#drabbles done wrong

[once-in-a-blood-moon]

Okay, so what if you propose to Solomon before he gets the chance to propose to you? Like obviously, he'd been thinking long and hard about what kind of ring to pick out, where to do it, what to say, yadda yadda... But then while you're *ahem* supervising him in the kitchen one evening, you get down on one knee and propose to him instead.

Poor guy did not see it coming, at all. Initially, he thought you fell or hurt yourself, so he scrambled around to check on you only to see you smiling up at him with the biggest heart eyes. With a gentle flourish of magic, you make the box appear in your hand before opening it to offer him the ring inside.

He can hardly believe it. Him? You want to propose to him? And you beat him to it? He's both impressed and deeply honored. Your little magic stunt made him proud as your teacher while also making the already special moment a million times more so.

Solomon's not one to get emotional. The only time he's ever cried to you was when you and the rest of Purgatory Hall tricked him with that overpowered onion...but this is different. He feels safe to cry as you spout to him a beautiful, heartfelt speech - feeling every letter being etched into his heart and every syllable committed to memory.

He falls to his knees, reaching out to hold you while whispering as many shaky "yeses" as he can muster through his sobs. He can't stop repeating himself like a broken record, beyond excited for this next step in your relationship, touched that you want to keep him as yours.

Once he's calmed down enough through your hushes, kisses, and gentle touches, you pull back to take his hand into yours. Slowly and carefully, you slip the ring onto his finger.

Solomon just stares at it with his heart in his throat, noticing how it shines in the light, how it fits him perfectly (both aesthetically and in size), and how it feels right occupying what he always assumed would be an empty finger. You've given him the gift of hope and the gift of love in the time he's known you. And here you are giving him even more...your life.

And in return, he's gladly and readily giving you his.

[smokeysweater]

No thoughts, only bad back Afab!reader and undeniable breeding kink Yandere husband. Nono hold on here me out here getting into an argument when he said he wanted to start and family, and you’re immediately defensive like “I already have a shit back, it’s sore after laying down on the bed for two seconds, now imagine me swollen ass belly complaining about it every two seconds cause a living thing inside me is breaking my back, not to mention my tits getting sore because they’re producing goddamn milk.” And the husbands all like, yeah mhm. And you’re like “you didn’t hear anything i just said beside swollen belly and My tits producing, did you?’ ”mhm.” ”you’re hard right now aren’t you?” ”mhm.” ”ffs.” (no i didn’t base this off of me and my sore back, what are you on about?)

[hunter-sylvester]

The Creature Lives

Written for the @steddiemicrofic January prompt: hole | 404 words. Rated: T | cw: smoking, scars, trauma. Title from Creature Lives by Mastodon [Ao3 link]

Eddie’s words got stuck halfway up his throat. Hooked between the comforting sting of blooming thistle and the horrid lump that his third joint was supposed to fix. He ran an unthinking fingertip down his side and couldn’t help recoiling in disgust at how healed it felt. Enough time had dared to pass for a whole slab of his flesh to grow back- hideously, sure. But it was closed.

Eddie didn’t feel healed. He didn’t feel closed. He clearly felt the gaping fucking hole in him- most days he was more hole than person. With more of him missing than remaining he wasn’t convinced that he was even human anymore. He felt like nothing more than a creature.

If someone had asked Eddie if he felt human before everything he’d have given some vaguely satanic sounding answer. Something freaky.

He never could’ve imagined what ‘inhuman’ felt like in his wildest nightmares until he lived through them. Not until he bled out. Not until he died. He could’ve sworn on his mother’s grave that he died. As an unspoken rule none of them questioned the ‘hows’ of it all. Everyone had crawled out of hell by the skin of their teeth- it felt safer not to ask questions.

But Eddie knew he hadn’t gotten out. Most of him was still down there, bleeding out forever.

With a touch to his shoulder, Steve gently nudged Eddie out of his downward spiral. The one he knew so well- the one he walked down every night.

He smiled and plucked the joint from Eddie’s fingers. He didn’t complain that he had to relight it- that Eddie had drifted away long enough for the smoldering tip to die the death they had both been promised and denied.

Eddie rolled onto his side towards Steve. He watched practiced lips hug the tatty paper and held his breath until he saw the cloud of smoke bleed back into the night air.

No living thing had ever smoked as beautifully as Steve Harrington.

Eddie moved himself closer to the safety of Steve’s warmth. His hands crept underneath worn fabric to find the familiar texture of nightmarish, smoothed over bite-marks that blushed with a heat that wasn’t his. He felt a mirroring hand trace his own mangled side and resisted backing away. Eddie could only hope that feeling those shared grooves rise and fall with his breath made Steve feel less empty too.

[mintea-in-space]

Part Two

Part Three

It should’ve been a summoning just like any other. Just another ghoul to help around the ministry as it continues to grow. It’s routine for Copia now, the incense, the chants, the glittering robes. The summoning circle glows brightly, the scent of sulphur permeating into the room. A blackened clawed hand appears to scrabble at the edge of the circle, a demon attempting to claw its way back to the surface. Aether gasps behind him, eyes glowing brighter through the goggles of his mask. A quintessence then. Good, that is what the Papa had been aiming for. And then Cumulus gasps too, glowing bright like Aether. Copia cocks his head as he watches. A multi, quint and air. Interesting.

A pair of tall golden tipped horns emerges, followed by pitch black hair streaked with stark white. Copia can’t help the slight smile his lips shift into. Phantom had emerged in much of the same way. The ghoul cries out, more dark grey skin revealing itself as the creature pulls itself from the pit. At long last, and with one final cry, they slump to the floor, chest heaving as they try to catch their breath. Copia simply waits, not wanting to rush them. The heart-shaped tip of their tail thrashes, long ears pinned back against their head. The tips of their ears appear to be feathery, as is their tail, and the long claws digging into the floor are gold.

The Papa steps forward, robes swishing as he moves to stand in front of them. He’s already opened his mouth, preparing to launch into the long standard speech he usually gives. The words die in Copia’s throat when the ghoul looks up, mismatched green and white eyes meeting his own. Finally he’s able to rasp out a single word, heart jumping into his throat and mind going blank.

“Papa?….”

[intheticklecloset]

i love how you write ler!fyodor. maybe more ler fyodor? and uh.. lee dazai. if preferred rough tickles, wreck him :3

scenario ; maybe they were like playing a game, hide and seek, and when you got found you got tickled.

if you dislike the scenario you can change it if you'd like!!

At last, an opportunity to write ler!Fyodor as I truly imagine him. Thank you for the prompt, anon! I tweaked it just slightly, but rough tickles are definitely implied. 😈

~~~

Dazai didn’t get nervous easily. It took a lot to get him to a point where he was truly on edge, worried that his actions had severe consequences, even scared that he might not make it out of a situation unscathed.

Looking at Fyodor now, this was one of those very rare times.

“Now, bunny,” he said, a slight waver in his voice that only made his partner’s evil smile grow. “Let’s…let’s be rational about this.”

“I’m afraid it’s too late for that,” the Russian replied, grabbing onto his wrist and yanking him forward so he could wrap his other arm around the detective in an iron grip. “You’ve chosen your fate.”

“But—” Dazai was cut off with a choke on his own giggles, biting his lip to try and stave off the smile that threatened to break free. He failed miserably.

“How badly should I punish you, lyubov’?” Fyodor mused, easily maneuvering to grasp Dazai’s other wrist as well, holding both captive against his chest while the other dug precise fingers into his ribs, forcing the brunette to squirm in place and snicker, his face aflame.

“You k-knohohohow I lihihihihike when you plahahahay dihihihirty,” Dazai attempted to flirt/tease/flatter in an attempt to get out of this mess. “B-But yohohohohou’ll hahahahahave to find sohohomething else to use agahahahainst me—EEEEK!!”

Fyodor’s voice and gaze were as calm and cold as ever. “Will I?”

“WAHAHAHAHAIT, BUNNY!!” Dazai was full-on struggling now, laughter spilling out of him as his wicked partner dug mercilessly into his hip, making him writhe against his chest uselessly.

“I know you enjoy tickling to an extent, love,” Fyodor said, leaning down to whisper the next part directly in the brunette’s ear. “But everyone has their breaking point.”

Dazai was beyond nervous now – he was both elated and terrified of what he knew was about to be the worst tickle torture he’d ever endure in his life. In fact, he might actually be tickled to death this time.

What a way to go.

“PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE, HAVE MEHEHEHEHEHERCY, BUNNY—!!”

Fyodor only chuckled and started dragging him – still laughing and struggling – to a more convenient location.

“Devils like us don’t deserve mercy, Osamu.”

[the-last-quest]

While I’m all for Nine being able to go to Green Hill and finally getting a home with Sonic and Tails I think that leaving him the grim made the most sense for his story.

To me Nine’s whole story is his want for a home. He wants someplace safe where he doesn’t have to worry about harm that others may inflict onto him, or having outside forces like the Chaos Council control every aspect of life.

That was his original plan with the Grim. He wanted to build a world from scratch where he was free from everything. He included Sonic in his wants, wanting the hedgehog to be happy and stay with him, the coconut trees being a testament to that.

That however changes after his fight with Sonic. That’s when it changes to not wanting anyone who could hurt him. The Alpha Grim’s built to follow his every command. To protect him from anything that could ever harm him.

He fights for the Grim until the end. Even when it’s clear he has no shot at winning. When each part of his attack fails. When he’s left only the fortress he built for himself.

And that fortress in the end is the home that Nine wants. It where he chooses to stay at the end. He got the home that he didn’t always want, but the one he wants now. A home where he can’t get harmed from anyone, but also where he can’t get close to anyone either unless the situation turns out the same.

In the end Nine got what he wanted, even if it isn’t what he needed.

[nomstellations]

Could you do Lucario and Blaziken? They my fav duo,, and could it be m/m? Plese thenk u

"Gettin' tired yet?!" A thrown punch was dodged with ease, as expected. The two fighting-types were evenly matched- experience and time spent together allowed them to read each other with practiced ease. Despite the type disadvantage between the two of them, Ciel fought with everything they had every time they sparred. It was something Lucien loved about him, that fighting spirit was as captivating as the pokemon himself...

But it wouldn't be enough to win the fight.

It was more of a battle of attrition than anything else. As they fought, the Blaziken only grew faster and faster...Ciel had to end the fight before he could speed up too much, but this time the Lucario wasn't so lucky. He could only trade blows until they got too fast to evade or block.

With a swift strike to the chest, Ciel was sent tumbling back onto the ground a few feet away. The outcome was clear- he lost, and Lucien was quick to stride up with a proud smile. "Good fight today, doll! You're getting better and better at keeping up with my speed boost, which is great!" He stood over his fallen partner, dusting some dirt off of his cream sleeveless vest before offering a hand to help him up. Ciel took it, but hesitated with pulling himself up. "Does this mean...?"

He beamed. "That's right, you know the rules~ Lucky I didn't wear a shirt today, eh?" A strong tug pulled the other 'mon up to his feet, pressing him to an already grumbling stomach. Ciel was too beat to really struggle, and this was a tradition of theirs anyway. Whoever won their spars got the rights to eat the loser, which was the perfect incentive for two people that could work up a HUGE appetite...which Lucien was eager to satisfy. Ciel was quick to remove his spiked gear- he didn't want to risk hurting Lucien on the way down with it.

Ciel closed his eyes, letting the Blaziken get to work as humid warmth suddenly clamped itself around his head. He was lucky that he was taller than him so his head could fit, but knowing how determined Lucien was...he probably would try to fit him down no matter what. Hungry gulps started to work him down, and it would seem that his throat muscles were just as strong thanks to repeated victories. It didn't take long for Ciel's torso to vanish, then his lower body, until the only things left of him outside were his spiked gloves and choker. Lucien's stomach swelled, happily grumbling as it expanded to fit its new guest.

"Ahhh~ Nice n' savory! I'd wager you have it nice in there, a massage and heat really relieves muscle soreness!" A fire-type's stomach tended to run hotter than most, and Ciel was inclined to agree. The walls churning and massaging around him felt pretty nice, but...it'd be nice to have his belly filled every once in a while. Lucien tasted pretty good...that was the point of the constant training, though. "Hm, you're the perfect weight in there." He idly patted at him, rubbing at around where his head was. "Maybe I could work on my balance holding you? Or go for a run?"

Lucien mumbled to himself, considering his options. As much as Ciel loved him, he wished he could sit still...

[ragnaofazure]

((A bot just liked my drabble I wrote when I originally archived Ragna and this blog.))

((Doing at least some roleplaying here again now recently and looking at that it feels a bit 🤡))

[revivemyreverie]

Hello 🙈🙈🙈... I will let you pick which one you'd prefer to do

🍫 Jiahao and a love potioned Celaeno... something about when Celachan is under the influence of the love potion, she completely forgets about her past love in that other life of hers... doesn't mistake Jiahao for someone else

Or the funny option is 💍 with whoever would be most interesting with Cybele.

Thank you in advance !

The word of a love potion mishap had spread all across campus, to the point where even Jiahao could not escape the rumors in his beloved art class. While annoying, Jiahao still managed to progress far enough with his new piece.

He had stepped out of class when a hand had suddenly grasped Jiahao’s. Unaffected by the touch, he turned to see it was the muse of his current artwork.

“...Celaeno?” 

Well, she looked like Celaeno, but with a strange emotion across her face, as if she’s realizing something.

“Did you want to walk to the next class with me?” He questioned as she stared. “Our rooms are in the opposite directions, but I don’t mind being late.” 

“I-“ Celaeno stumbled over her words, “You remind me of someone, someone I love.”

A hint of emotion flashed on the ex-dragon’s face, before returning to its monotonous state. Jiahao understood, Celaeno must have mistaken him for another person, yet again.

“I’m not the person you’re mistaking me for, Celaeno.” He sighs. “I’m Jiahao, your schoolmate.”

“Yes.. yes, you’re Jiahao.” Her mind began to clear, “My classmate and my lover, Jiahao.”

Jiahao blinks, caught off guard by Celaeno’s last sentence. “...lover?”

“Yes.” She stated as if it were true; as if they had been in love since forever. “It appears I’ve scared you somehow.”

She grabs onto his other hand and brings him closer. “I swear to remember you, if it makes you feel better.”

“Could- How long will you remember me for?” Jiahao draws himself close to her face, his eyebrows furrowing with angst.

“For forever, if thats what it takes.” She reciprocates the movement, and kisses her “love”.

It has been a long time since Jiahao had kissed someone, even longer for someone to kiss him. And yet, as he notices the scent of an unidentifiable potion, Jiahao understands that this moment is a fleeting one. Still, knowing that this Celaeno knows him, the grey-haired student remains in the kiss.

For Jiahao, it will just be another memory he’ll carve out one day. 

[breitzbachbea]

Drabble #84

Opposites attract and nothing show that more than clashing magnets finding each other as soon as they return. Or - Magnús walking into hell while Freyja, walking first, gently holds his hand. (These two belong to my beloved @swabianmapley )

Drabble Collection on Ao3 Ship: SigFrey

“Oho, pretty lady, where are you going at this hour?” Magnús asked, his hand still on the key.

Freyja rolled her eyes, but the sated smile on her face never waned.

“Into bed, big boy,” she said, clung to his arm and rubbed her cheek against his shoulder. Magnús chuckled and took the hand from the key to put his arm around her instead.

With the other, he turned the key and pushed the door open. Freyja’s hand found his arm again.

The two stumbled into their hotel room. The door was closed with more force than expected and louder than perhaps welcome at the time.

“Seems like you had a fun night out,” Magnús said. He was glad to be back with her after their group of Irishmen and Scots had split.

“The funnest. What about you?”

“It was alright.”

Freyja swung around to stand in front of him and let go of his arm. Despite her slight stagger, she was steady on her feet. “Would have rather that we stayed back in Reykjavík?”

Her gall, her good-natured taunt, amplified by the alcohol in her veins. He smiled, much softer than her grin.

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he answered. He turned as he got out of his jacket. “I got invited to a whiskey tasting.” He opened the closet.

“Oh, did you now?” Freyja asked and when he looked over his shoulder, he saw her curious and elated smile, her eyebrows arched.

“Mhm.” He hung up the jacket. “Well, they’ve planned a whiskey tasting in front of m.” When he turned around to Freyja and closed the door behind him, her excitement was less radiant and she had crossed her arms in front of her. “They talked about it like a big event, with everyone involved. Told me to tell Emil about it.”

“Oh, great! So, we’ve been invited to a whiskey tasting.” She let herself fall onto the bed and untied her boots.

“If anything even comes of it and it wasn’t just a wet idea…” Magnús sat down on the arm chair to remove his shoes.

“I think it sounds fun! I’m sure Emil will love it!” Magnús cocked an eyebrow and waited, until Freyja looked at him. “Come on, Siggi, it’s basically like the get-together after the sheep and horses returned from the mountains. He’s comfortable at those.”

“Those don’t have insane people. I’m pretty sure this is going to end in chaos, something he is decidedly less comfortable around.”

Freyja threw her boots to the side and waved her hand. “He’s been doing fine on his family weekend with Chun and Fen in the Icelandic wilderness so far, he can handle a little drama.” She shrugged. “Also, remember that time the Danish were over for the sheep and horse handling?”

Freyja caught a glimpse of Magnús’ face and burst into laughter. He hadn’t unhunched his shoulders yet, although the pure rage and repulsion had been replaced by a thoroughly miffed stare into space. “Regrettably so.” Every time Jóhann asked about Frej and if he wouldn’t want to come again next year, admiration and a little bit of excitement in his voice, it was hard to grin and bear it.

Freyja had fallen onto her back and held her stomach. Once she stopped laughing, she went limp and sighed. She fumbled with her belt, opened it and unzipped her pants.

However, she struggled to strip out of them.

“Do you need help?” he asked.

“Yeah, if you could pull from the bottom, that’d be great.” She pulled her pants off with little struggle. “Thanks, sweetheart – Oh my god, you’re such a square.” She laughed again as he folded her pants to put them away.

“Your square,” he replied and put her pants on a chair. “Looking out for you.”

She crossed her arms behind her head and he avoided to look at her naked legs. “I know. You don’t have to be at attention every possible moment though. Like, I know. Yes. That comes free with this life, but .. the whiskey tasting sounds nice.”

“With normal people it would, I’m sure.” She shrugged. She still had to take her piercings out. “Like, danger aside, people like those aren’t exactly the company I’d choose for a fun evening.”

“Normal-Schmormal. You chose me, didn’t you?” She smiled at him. It wasn’t beaming, it wasn’t smirking, but it radiated kindness that seeped right through his skin into his heart. “You love my weirdness. You followed it all the way into hell.” Gratitude. Apologies written in her eyes.

“I … yes … I mean …” He was at a loss for words. Instead, he got onto the bed, laid beside her and took her hand. As they gazed into each other’s eyes, their fingers intertwined.

[arcxnumvitae]

“What will we do about Zhaohui?”

From the moment their student had set foot in their estate, his expression deadly serious, the elder had known that he planned to speak on something weighing on his mind. The only question had been ‘what’. A myriad of possibilities and they found themself unsurprised still at what it ended up being. 

“He is a ticking timebomb just waiting to explode,” Huaxiu continued, hands falling to his hips with a grimace. “We know something will set him off, the only questions are when and how.”

They should have been expecting this conversation ever since Zhaohui returned to them and they became fully aware of what had become of him in the years during his banishment. The anger and hate that had festered into cruelty was unmistakable. Worse, it all seemed to fixate on Huaxiu as a target. It was easy to see how Zhaohui may one day act on what was festering inside. But to act on that assumption was not so easy.

“What should I do, Xiao-xiu? Punish him for a wrong that he has not yet committed? Banish him from our own group?” They watched as the younger dragon’s face twisted with frustration.

“So we will wait until he falls down the same path as Shizun?! Shifu, there is Minglian to worry about now. If Zhaohui were to do something that ended up hurting her, or if she had to feel even a fraction of what I felt when Shizun betrayed us, I--” He faltered at the memory of what it had felt like to lose someone he trusted. Silence passed before Huaxiu took a quiet breath. “I know that I cannot spare my Xiao-lian every pain that the world may throw at her, but this-- this I can do.” ‘This I refuse to allow’ hovered unspoken in the air between them. Jianhuren’s eyes fell away.

“What I can do at this point is speak with him. Try to lend an ear.” They watched as Huaxiu shook his head, clear in the way he believed the futility of it.

“It will not change anything.”

[bi-disastersoup]

from the dialogue ask prompts: “i just wanted to say thank you for protecting me”

AAHHHHH BEE THANK YOU! This one was really hard... I actually started working on it and then scrapped what I had cuz there wasn't any actual dialogue after like four paragraphs lol

From this list if anyone wanted to send me another!

"Hey," R'alma said abruptly.

It was abrupt, entirely out of the blue. They were lounging at his apartment, lazily draped over one another on the sofa while G'raha quietly read a book. Neither of them had spoken aloud in some time.

The Miqo'te's answering hum was automatic, and so R'alma continued. "I, uhh... I just wanted to say thank you. For, um... for protecting me."

The words took a moment to register past the ones he was reading, but once they did, G'raha set the book aside and looked down at the head nestled in his lap.

"Alma, are you drunk again?" he asked quizzically.

R'alma scoffed and buried his face further into his partner's lap. "Why would you think that?" he muttered in reply.

"Because you hate it when I try to protect you, from anything," G'raha responded, running a hand fondly over the long black ears twitching against his stomach.

"Yeah, I do." With a huff, R'alma rolled so that he was looking up into crimson eyes. "Doesn't mean I don't still appreciate it, though. And you've always done it, throwing yourself in front of me -- whether in battle, or in political situations -- to shield me from anything you think might do me harm. And I hate that you are constantly putting yourself in harm's way on my account, but... but I appreciate it nonetheless."

G'raha smiled down at him, feeling warmth swelling in his chest. "But of course, my star," he breathed. "How could I not seek to protect that which is most precious to me in all the world?"

[fstbmp-a]

NOT ME DEADASS MAKING A DIVIDER SOLELY FOR A FUCKING DRABBLE TO HELP SEPARATE A PERSPECTIVE SWITCH. GOD DAMN IT.

[gojoest]

when you get an idea and sit down to write but then jskladhafsgdjknabvjaskdjbjvskdalkzdxvbj

[tearsofcalamity]

im ngl shitting out lil drabbles here and there without going through all the trouble of making the banners and adding the a/n and title and all that fluff has made writing WAYYY more enjoyable

[osamucide]

⊹ I AIN'T NOTHIN' BUT A NASTY DOG!

. . . BSD MEN AS OVERUSED PORN PLOTS!

wc: 5.3k

cw: MINORS DNI—explicit sexual content, gn!+afab!reader, a lot of anonymous sex, dirty talk, BIG DICK MEN, probably a good amount of ooc, some questionable dynamics/dubcon that can be read through the lens of roleplay and/or prior consent. character-specific warnings—chuuya: public sex, penetration; dazai: penetration, riding, creampie; kunikida: professor/student, oral (m!receiving); fukuzawa: secretary/boss, office sex, oral (m!receiving), facefucking; atsushi: HEAVY DUBCON WARNING, stuck, perv atsushi, penetration; akutagawa: blackmailing if you squint, degradation, choking, penetration; oda: penetration; ango: public sex, penetration, riding; nikolai: dubcon, home intruder f!masturbation, penetration; sigma: a tiny bit of perv sigma, oral (f!receiving); fyodor: priest!fyodor, religion/blasphemy kink, christianity-specific, oral (m!receiving)

reid: putting my dual major in journalism to work by subtitling these like bad porn videos. little not so thought out drabbles many with no definitive ending just silly whore thoughts. some are more stupid than sexy but either way i hope you enjoy because this was a blast to write HAHAHAHA

⊹ ⊹ ⊹

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA—HOT GYM BUDDIES CAN’T WAIT UNTIL AFTER THEIR WORKOUT TO FUCK!

“Yeah, that’s a lot better. Look at you, you got it,” the pretty redhead mutters, his hands still firmly on your hips as he spots your squat. “Give me one more, I know you can.”

The praise prompts you to draw in a deep breath that has nothing to do with your next squat; anyway, this gorgeous man, kind enough to help you with your form, believes in you. So you bend once more, squatting down, down, and pushing back up—until on your way back up, you feel your legs begin to buckle.

“Woah, woah.” It’s sweet how concerned he sounds as his hands fly up to the bar and his feet nudge you forward to help you replace the weight on the rack, but his hips end up pressed to yours, and you’re gasping. “You okay?”

You’re fine, caged between him and the bar as he leans over your shoulder to glimpse your face that’s flushed from exertion. Only exertion, surely, even though your ass is pressed firmly to his pelvis. He doesn’t seem hard, but you can still feel it, and it feels big.

“Yeah,” you breathe, moving to duck under the bar, but it’s low and you’re feeling a little dizzy, so you teeter backwards into him, and as his hands find your waist again. “Yeah, I’m about to be done anyway.”

“You should really stretch after maxing out like that,” he suggests, turning you around. “Don’t wanna be hurting, do you?”

But you can only look into his intense eyes and shake your head lightly before he’s easing you to the ground on your back, settling each of his knees over one of your thighs, and slotting his shoulder beneath your hamstring. He pushes forward, gently, slowly, looking to you for anything wrong; and there isn’t.

There’s nothing wrong, except for the fact that you can feel his huge dick against your pussy through both of your shorts.

It’s all you need to start moving blindly, reaching down for his waistband, pawing at his neck, mashing his lips to yours, and he doesn’t hesitate to do it back—he lets up on your leg only to slip your shorts off before your ankle is back over his shoulder and he’s grinding the head of his cock into your wetness.

“You gonna let me in, baby?” he pants hotly, looking down at you squirming beneath him. “Yeah, I know you will—you’re strong, you can take it.”

His tip catches on your clit, and you gasp before he’s plunging into you, setting a brutal pace. “Oh, fuck!”

“Oh, fuck, yeah,” he groans. “So fuckin’ tight.”

He hits the inside of you perfectly, his soft ginger hair falling loose from its low pony—you wish you knew his name so you could scream it, but you settle for moaning, panting, cussing, as he throws your other leg over his shoulder and drills into you on the gym mat. ⊹

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI—MY OLDER BROTHER ALMOST CAUGHT ME FUCKING HIS BEST FRIEND!

“Shit—I’ll be back, gonna go shower this off. Asshole.”

That was what your older brother, Chuuya, grumbled at Dazai before scurrying off to the bathroom. The three of you had just gotten back from getting ice cream, and Dazai had the brilliant idea of snatching Chuuya’s cone from him and sticking it in his hair. Cursing ensued the entire walk home.

And Dazai popped the tail end of his cone in his mouth and grabbed for your wrists as soon as your brother was out of sight, which leads you to now—in the living room, on the couch, bouncing furiously on his cock as he grunts.

“Osamu—be quiet!” you plead with him, but you’re moaning, too.

His lips fall into a grin. “Don’t worry, cutie, I can still hear the shower—fuck! Just keep—keep doing that, you feel so fucking good.”

So you reinforce your grip on his shoulders and slam your hips down to meet his, over and over, drawing sinful sounds from both of your bodies as you’re separated by a single thin wall from your brother—Dazai’s best friend, who would probably murder both of you if he found out you were fucking.

And then the water turns off. You muffle the choked cry you let out into Dazai’s shoulder, so damn frustrated that you won’t get there, not before Chuuya comes back—but Dazai’s flipping you onto your back, grabbing you by your hips, pulling you into him with such fervor that you almost shout.

“Need it, baby, I need to cum in this pussy—”

“Osamu!”

But even you can’t tell if you’re egging him on or warning him to stop—with no sound buffer and Chuuya undoubtedly coming back any minute, your body decides for you that you need it, too, you need to cum and you will, no matter how much your mind protests; your eyes flick nervously up to the hallway when they’re not rolling back from how Dazai’s rearranging your guts.

“He’s gonna come back—unh—and you’re gonna sit here with my cum in you, and he won’t even fuckin’ know.”

He’s digging his nails into your hips and ass, making you twitch, reaching down to rub your clit hard, and when you cum, clenching around him, he shoves his palm over your mouth and spills into you with a last few wet smacks.

Dazai’s scrambling back into his pants as footsteps pad down the hall; he all but throws himself at the other end of the couch as you curl up, dressed but fucked silly, focused on not letting the evidence of what just happened gush out of you and leak onto the couch.

“Fuck was that noise?” Chuuya mumbles, sauntering out as he’s tying his wet hair up.

“Hm? I don’t know, I didn’t hear anything.”

When Chuuya turns toward the kitchen, Dazai tosses you a wink. Your face burns as you feel yourself leaking. ⊹

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA—COLLEGE HOTTIE SUCKS DICK FOR EXTRA CREDIT!

"You do realize I'm going to have to fail you," your professor informs you, looking into your eyes with a little regret. Truthfully, you've always been personable in class and shown promise as a student, and he's disappointed. Not in you, just in your poor academic performance during your final semester.

"There has to be something I can do to make up for it," you nearly plead, hands clasped together on the edge of his desk as you look to him with hope. You know you've been slacking, but you need this class to graduate.

"I don't know—" He sighs your name, clearly confliced. Your attendance record is less than impressive these days, and Kunikida's enforced a strict class participation policy throughout his years of teaching—as well as no extra credit—something he makes clear to all of his students in all of his classes, and you especially should know better after taking his classes for four years. "I don't know. Like what?" Maybe you can do a few credits in the summer and still walk at graduation, or pick up an internship. But he wants you to take the initiative and accountability.

He doesn't really know how to protest when you're slipping out of your seat and sinking to your knees as a spark starts to gleam in your eyes. You rattle off a few academic ideas for posterity, but ultimately find your hands sliding up his thighs and fiddling with his belt.

Fuck it, you think, you'll be out of here soon enough. Plus, Kunikida's always been kind, compassionate, understanding, and sexy—too invested in his field to even notice that handfuls of students on campus would throw themselves at him given the chance. Maybe he'll finally understand, you muse to yourself, as you work his hardening cock out of his dress pants.

He chokes out your name when you take his length in both of your hands; he's all the way gone when you're swirling your tongue over his tip, giving in to your little idea for extra credit sooner than he'd ever admit to himself.

"Oh, fuck—" He's staring up at the ceiling of his office in pure bliss because his student is working hot, sloppy kisses down the underside of his cock. His hands twist into your hair, and you gaze up at him, doe-eyed, as his head falls forward and he looks at you through his glasses. "Keep going. Don't fucking stop."

He's trying not to thrust into your mouth when you fondle his balls; his pretty blond bangs are dampening with sweat, and you can't take your eyes off him as you bob your head faster, hollowing your cheeks around him and moaning at the taste of your professor's cock heavy in your mouth. He twitches and jumps at your attention to detail—your fingers raking tracks down his thighs, your frantic tongue, your fluttering lashes and sugary moans, gags, and slurps that are music to him.

You know, as he falls apart more and more by the second, you won't have to worry about this class anymore.

"Unh—uh, yes, oh, fuck, we'll work something out, yeah, gorgeous? Just don't stop—d—don't stop, don't fucking stop, I'm gonna cum down that pretty throat, yeah, and we'll get it all figured out." ⊹

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA—NAUGHTY SECRETARY SEDUCES HOT BOSS!

You're perched on his desk when he returns from the meeting—Yukichi, your boss, who, lately, you can't stop thinking about climbling like a tree. You're sure your coworkers see it, too, but you're his personal assistant; no one gets to be as close to him as you, and he trusts you.

Which is why you'll put the moves on him today.

He runs a hand through his silver hair—obviously stressed—sighing as he pulls his office door shut and turns to you. He speaks your name, holds a few papers in your direction, begins instructing you on what he needs from you next.

But you know better what he needs. The papers that make their way into your hands are quickly forgotten about on his desk as you uncross your legs and hop down, sauntering up to place on hand on his arm, the other on his chest.

"Sir, you look so tense. Are you sure there isn't anything else I can do?"

He makes his way to sit down in his office chair, disregarding your touch in a way that has you following after him like a puppy in need of attention.

He doesn't answer, but he also doesn't protest when you settle between his knees beneath his desk and push his yukata and haori up to pool around his hips. His dick is thick and veiny, even soft; when you spit in your hand and begin to work him up and down his mouth falls open with a sigh, and he grows at least two inches as he hardens beneath your grip.

You didn't think you'd be able to fit his absolute monster cock in your mouth, but you find yourself, throat open, with your nose pressed to his happy trail as you swirl your tongue and breathe through your nose frantically; he holds your face down, speaking very little but making up for it with the way he grunts hotly in that deep, rough voice as he bucks into the back of your throat.

"Unh—ugh..."

You breathe through your nose as his hips fall into a brutal pace; his hands on either side of your head keep you pinned in place as he uses you, takes his stress out on you. Your fingers massage his balls, and you can't help the way you hum around him when he twitches in your mouth.

Yukichi pulls out of your jaw and you gasp for air, wiping the spit that drips down your chin with the back of your hand, but he's not done. When he does speak, it's demanding, low, and it makes your cunt throb with need.

"Get up. Get up, sit on the desk. 'Need to fuck you."

You do as you’re told, open up for him with no hesitation, smiling as he works his fat cock into you—yeah, his stress will be gone in no time with the way he fucks your hole so hard and fast that you shake with each creak of his desk. ⊹

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA—STUCK IN THE ELEVATOR WITH MY SEXY NEIGHBOR!

"Ah! Atsushi, open the door!"

"Um," he frets, punching the button until he's sure it'll break. If it's not broken already. "I—I can't, it's not working!"

Not working? Is he fucking serious? You're trapped in the door—all you did was try to reach back out for your bag you'd set by the elevator and now you're stuck, by the waist, between the two sliding maneuvers, your bag dangling from your hands.

"It's supposed to have a sensor! It's not supposed to even close when someone's on the threshold!" you cry through your teeth as you try to squirm out. Atsushi's mind is already working, though, over the way you're pinned in half, wiggling your ass as you struggle against the industrial strength of the elevator door. "Atsushi, help me, please call someone or something—"

But his hands are on your hips, pulling backward, and you can't help the noise of surprise that slips out of you.

"Atsu', I seriously don't think that will work, please, just call—Atsushi!"

His hands shake as he slides your pants and underwear down your thighs, exposing your ass; he tunes out your protesting as he undoes his belt. You hear the clink of it hitting the ground, you feel his fingers dipping into your cunt from behind, and he cannot be fucking serious.

"I'm sorry," he cries like it's out of his control—he feels like it is. "I'm sorry, you're so hot, you're right here, I've wanted this for so long."

And you feel yourself beginning to drip at his desperate tone. You can't fucking believe it—this is depraved. This is some shit you would've never expected from the sweet, cute boy in the apartment across the hall who helped you drag your bedframe and couch from this very elevator to your room but here he is, prodding at you with his pathetically leaky cock while you're stuck in the damn elevator door.

And you'd be frustrated with how your body reacts, but as he slides his dick along your cunt, drenching himself in your wetness, you can't help but arch back into his touch.

"Atsushi, you have to fuck me, please."

And he does, fast and unpracticed—he whimpers for you, tells you you're all he thinks about when he jerks off; he confesses that he looks through his peephole when he knows you're leaving for work or school just to get at least one glimpse of you everyday to fuel his imagination, and you gush around him, the pain of the door trapping you falling irrelevant, drifting out of your mind, as he buries his face in your shoulder and humps into you like an animal, pounding against your cervix.

"Fuck, that's right, so good, so, so good—better than I could've imagined—agh, fuck, that's right, take it all, take it, take it, take it...!" ⊹

⊹ RYUUNOSUKE AKUTAGAWA—HOT BABE HAS NO MONEY, LETS THE DELIVERY BOY DESTROY THAT PUSSY!

You rifle through your wallet and hum when you come up short. "Um, I... know you said you don't have a card reader, but I don't have enough cash."

The delivery boy looks at you with little more than boredom until you invite him in.

"Here, let me look in my room—I might have more stashed somehwere..."

He stands over you, searching you with his curious gray eyes as you dig through a drawer, a bag, another bag, only to come up short again. You even peek under your mattress for good measure, but you're just out. You turn to him sheepishly.

"I, uh... I don't have enough, I'm really sorry."

"Well, I can't leave without some form of payment," he deadpans, and you try to think of something, anything—you have a few giftcards for other delivery services, some jewelry—but he's letting his bag fall off his shoulder and grabbing you by the hips before you can register what he means.

You end up face down, ass up on your bed as a compromise, his hips rutting into you from behind as he holds your wrists behind your back. Ryuunosuke his name tag read—you're quick to adopt a way around that mouthful, moaning out, "Ryuu, Ryuu, please!" as he splits you open and calls you a whore.

"Fuckin' slut—"

When you're able to glance back for a second you can see his pretty black hair swaying with each rough thrust, and you're sure he's hitting your lungs—he's so fucking deep inside you, and you're gasping, moaning for more.

"—so eager to—unh—take this dick. Probably hiding your cash somewhere."

But whether you are or not doesn't matter; your eyes are rolling back to the hard smack of his hips against your ass and the white-hot pleasure that rolls through you every time he plows straight into your g-spot, and he's throbbing inside of you at the way your cunt grips him. Your pizza's getting cold on the counter in your kitchen, but you don't care—not when he bunches his fingers up in your hair to arch you back up to him so he can wrap his other hand around your throat.

You hold onto him as he bends you, pulling air down into your lungs when you can, and his gravelly voice barrages you with more words that make you gush around his cock.

"Gonna let me cum in this pussy so you don't have to fork over a few bucks for a pizza? Pathetic."

His teeth sink into your shoulder, his other hand reaches down to torture your neglected clit, and you're sure he's gonna break you over this, your hot delivery boy who just so happened to have the idea to fill you up as payment. You pant his name desperately between thunderous moans—you're gonna cum soon. ⊹

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA—THIS PLUMBER FIXED MORE THAN JUST MY PIPES!

"Okay, that should do it." The man stands up, back to a height at which he towers over you, and you lean on the doorframe to the kitchen as he shuts the cabinets beneath your sink. "It's all movin' again."

You were in your robe when you answered the door, but you'd be lying if you said you didn't run to the bathroom to fix your hair and swipe on a little lip balm while he was working. Really, you hadn't meant to try to fuck the plumber. But this man was gorgeous, with his auburn hair, stubble-lined jaw, large hands, broad shoulders. You felt your eyes widen when you first laid eyes on him, and now you'd been throbbing thinking about what those thick fingers could do other than plumbing.

You pull your robe tighter around yourself, hoping to subtly accentuate the outline of your body. "Thank you so much, really, I don't know what I'd have done without the sink."

"Probably used the dishwasher a lot more," he cracked dryly, and your previous words suddenly feel stupid, but it only serves to make him hotter.

"How should I pay you?" You stride over to him. "Cash?"

"You can just pay online." He looks tired, but he has a well-meaning smile on his face.

You look a little incredulous. "Really? I can't—do you accept tips? Seriously, top notch work and super quick. I can't not thank you."

"I'm really not supposed to take tips," he drawls, running a hand through his hair. You find yourself biting your lip; you can't look away from him. You must look like a rabid animal right now, but you can't help it.

He doesn't tear his eyes away from yours.

"I mean, unless..."

Those three words are what find you on your back in your bedroom with your robe thrown open, the sweet and efficient plumber named Sakunosuke standing at the edge as he impales you on his cock. He worked you open with those fingers first, fast and harsh, just how you begged him to, but nothing could've prepared your weeping hole for the stretch of his fat dick—and now he's pounding into you, his hands clutching your waist as you hold your legs open for him to thrust deeper, deeper.

“Oh, shit. Unh—so wet—“

His groans come from his chest, deliciously—he looks a little like he knows he shouldn't be doing this, but your cunt is sucking him in like it was what he was supposed to come here for all along. You spasm and clench around him and he throws his head back, your whole body rippling as his strong hips and heavy balls smack lewdly against your ass with each thrust.

“Mmph—fuck—break that sink of yours more often, alright?” ⊹

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI—I JOINED THE MILE HIGH CLUB (EXTREMELY RISKY)!

The man you met in the airport bar—oh, he’s pretty.

He's even prettier in your mind when the pilot announces phone permissions now that you're in the air, and the first notification your phone receieves is from him.

I have an open seat next to me in first class. Come visit.

You don't hesitate for a moment. You stride forward from the economy section, past the flight attendants who protest at you flimsily to search for his seat number—you see his unmistakably gorgeous hair, his glasses, his sharp side profile as he speaks to an attendant, catches you in his peripheral, and then shoos her away.

There's hardly niceties before one of your legs is slung over his knee and he kisses you with fervor. You don't think too hard about the people around you—none of whom can actually see you but without a doubt will know exactly what's happening in a few minutes—as you grind down onto his thigh, bite his lips, draw soft gasps from him when your knee nudges his bulge.

Before you know it, his cock is free and he slides your underwear to the side so you can sink onto him; he groans shamelessly when your wet heat envelops him completely, causing heads to turn in your direction, but you just brace your knees against the airplane seat and your hands on his shoulders make quick work of milking him of everything he has.

He kisses you, hot, heavy; he smells good, he smells expensive, and you tear his dress shirt open to rake your nails down his chest as he grabs your hips, letting his head fall back and a full-bodied moan into the cramped air of the plane as he does so. You lift up to let him thrust, let lewd smacks resonate throughout first class, and with your chest in his face he rides your shirt up to latch his teeth to one of your nipples; you echo him, moaning unabashedly, running your hands through your hair, gripping him as people look on.

"Fuuuck, yeah, feels so good," he praises from beneath you. "Knew I had to fuck you from the second I saw you." His eyebrows draw up in concentration as he looks down at where your bodies meet and continues fucking up into you hard. "Hah—listen to that cunt cry for me. You like being watched, huh? Gonna let me fuck you 'til the plane smells like sex? Huh?"

You nod, messily, desperately, and he quickens his pace ever faster, pulling you back down into a sloppy kiss.

An attendant awkwardly approaches in the aisle, but the gorgeous man who's destroying your insides just holds up a palm, shoos her away again.

"Fuck—so sexy. Keep takin' this dick." ⊹

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL—LUCKY INTRUDER GETS TO FUCK HORNY VICTIM!

You're splayed out on your bed, two fingers stuffed deep in your cunt—and he's just surprised you didn't hear him breaking the lock on your front door.

When you meet his eyes, you're so glazed over with pleasure that you barely miss a beat, your gaze only blowing wide when he peers around your bedroom doorway. His snowy white hair, his sharp features—you can't find the sense to be alarmed at this unfamiliar man, the one holding your laptop and—is that your wallet?

Doesn't matter—they're clattering to the ground, another factor here you can't find it in yourself to care about as his gray eyes are locked onto you fucking yourself open on your sheets. The sheen of sweat that covers your skin, your desperate moans as you grind your clit against your palm, the obscene squelching that comes from your wet cunt—they all serve to propel him over to you, prompt him to dig his already-hard cock out of his pants as you just watch, beg him with your stare to come fill you up. You're so lucky he's here, really—you look like you're struggling to get deep enough with your pathetic little fingers; he guesses it's only fair that he repay you for the material goods he's about to rob you of and pawn off on whatever sucker will buy them for cash, right?

"Right? I'll help you out—" He gives his cock a few pumps as he positions himself between your legs, "—looks like you need it, sweetheart."

You can only bite your lip to supress the moan that leaves you as he enters your cunt and lifts your fingers up and out of you by your wrist to swirl his tongue around them, lick them clean. He's huge—even your third and fourth fingers weren't enough to prepare you properly for the burglar’s dick in your needy pussy, so you let out strained combinations of gasps and screams when he starts to drill into you mercilessly. You can't help the way your ankles link behind his back, the way you reach for him—and he smiles wickedly when your eyes roll back.

"You like having a stranger's cock deep in your guts, huh?" he speaks between deep sighs and grunts. You can only babble your incoherent agreement, your laptop and wallet forgotten, the actions of this man forgotten, everything but how desperately you need to squirt all over him forgotten—you reach down and rub your clit, play with your nipples as your mouth is frozen open as you moan, moan for this man who's just broken into your home. "Uh—yeah, you're gonna like takin' all my cum, too, I bet." ⊹

⊹ SIGMA—MASSEUR HELPS HIS SEXY CLIENT RELIEVE STRESS!

"Oh, yeah—right there," you groan softly as the heel of his palm meets the center of your back. You've been looking forward to this full-body massage the whole week, and this man was not disappointing.

He works his way down your back, twisting knots out as he goes—his lithe fingers feel like heaven against you, overworked from hours at your desk hunched over your computer.

But it's a full-body massage, as mentioned before; when his fingers dig into the plush of your asscheeks, you can't help the groan that leaves you.

"That okay?" he inquires; you think you hear a shake in his voice.

"More than okay," you reply, thinking you could fall asleep as he works you into relaxation. You could close your eyes from how good it feels, or you could peek behind you and see his face burning with blush at your sounds. You do the former, but smirk a little at how sweet it is of him to check in.

He checks in again when his hands are inching your underwear down, and you tell him of course, he's the professional.

He's still the professional when he climbs up on the table behind you and buries his flushed face into your cunt. You arch up and back, crooning, as his hands stay massaging you, spreading you apart, kneading your ass with career expertise and plunging his tongue into you with enthusiasm.

"Oh! Oh—feels good," you breathe, grinding back into his face, onto his nose. He laps at you happily, this masseur you've barely looked upon for a total of twenty seconds, but you can't lie to yourself and say you didn't think he was pretty when he led you back to his room; he hums into you, sending you shivering, twitching. "Please, more."

"Mhm," he mumbles, releasing one of your asscheeks to lay back beneath you and insert a long, thin finger into your pussy; you sigh, you settle onto his face, and his tongue speeds up in this new position in a way that rips a high moan from your lungs.

Not hunched, but arched, the stretch feels heavenly on your back in combination with the way he pumps another finger into you; you graciously sit up, throwing your head back, begging, pleading for more until his tongue settles into a tight back-and-forth rhythm over your clit. "Please, please, please—"

You grind against his nose, your moans become more erratic, and you dig a hand into his hair as your hips move in dizzying circles over his head.

"Cum for me?" he asks, muffled by your pussy; you'll ride him until his face is soaked. ⊹

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY—CONFESSING MY SINS ENDS IN HUGE CUMSHOT ALL OVER MY FACE!

“And I’ve been terribly, terribly lustful, Father Fyodor,” you say with regret. “It consumes me. I really never used to be like this."

"Temptation lurks everywhere," the priest sympathizes. You can barely see him through the grate, but his soft, forgiving voice sounds close to you. "The Devil and his army are constantly exploiting our vulnerabilities to try and turn us to sin, but worry not, child of Christ; we're human. I'm here to guide you. Continue."

You shift on the wooden seat in the booth, crossing your hands tighter over your lap. "That's really all. It's been very concerning to me. I think about it... I think about it so much."

"About what?" Father Fyodor prompts, and you bristle even more at being asked to elaborate.

"Sex," it barely comes out as more than a whisper. "I can't help it—it's everywhere. It leaves me feeling so... exhausted and frustrated, and the only thing that helps is... Well..."

But you're met with silence. You know he wants you to go on. You're here to confess, after all.

"...touching myself. I do it at least once a day. It's like a burning within me—nothing helps but—but—cumming all over my fingers." Your voice is laced with shame—the throbbing of your cunt as you talk makes you feel all the more guilty, and you can only imagine how he's shaking his head. "That's all. That's all."

"You'll do penance," he says, comfortingly. "When we bring our sins to the Lord and repent he cleanses us of them."

The grate pops out of the window, and you see the the waist of his alb as he speaks his next words.

"You'll take communion, now—" the cinctures around his waist fall undone beneath his hands, and the alb is hiked up to reveal a leaking cock, pretty and pale and bobbing in the air of the confessional. "—and be saved from the flames of perdition.”

"Yes, Father, please. Anything to be saved." But your mouth waters in a way that you know has little to do with your thirst for salvation.

"Take this; eat. This is my body," he recites the scripture as his length reaches through the window; your hands, eager and already on the threshold, accept him willingly. As you wrap your mouth around him, he groans, and it's like seraphim singing their holy, holy, holy.

"That's it—child of God, follower of Christ; I absolve you of your sins," he gasps as his tip hits the back of your throat which was begging for forgiveness moments ago. His hands reach through the window to stroke either side of your face, and then hold you in place to fuck your throat. "The Lord will forgive you for this." ⊹