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#look I’m writing silly little drabbles again!!
rodolfoparras · 5 months
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Thinking about Price sprawled out in bed while you straddle his waist, and spank his chest, hearing the groans and grunts that escape his lips every time the palm of your hand kisses his skin, feeling the way he’s trying to squeeze his thighs together in desperate search for some relief but unable to do much with your weight on him, and watching the skin jiggle with every slap, tits turning red as his face and nipples fully erect as if his body is silently begging and pleading for you to do something.
Or thinking about latching your lips onto Price’s tits, sucking vigorously as if milk is bound to spill from them, hearing the sweet gasps and hisses that escape him, and feeling the way his hand cradles your head in an attempt to pull you closer to him. Every once a while your teeth will scrape over his sensitive numbs and the hand on your head will turn rough, but you’re quick to sooth the bite with your tongue, lapping at his tits till they're practically glistening with your spit and the man beneath you is letting out contented hums.
Or thinking about Price letting you fuck his chest even though there isn’t much there but you’re more than happy to straddle his waist instructing him to push his small tits together as you slot your dick between them it’s both the best and the worst thing because his tits are too small for you to actually be feeling anything but you can’t help but love the sight of him struggling to push his tits together in an attempt to create some friction, the way his chest is rubbed raw and glistening from both your spit and pre and the way he loses his mind when your cockhead accidentally grazes his senestive nipples.
Or thinking about Price down on his knees, lips wrapped around your cock, while pushing his tits together, rubbing your precum and spit all over them, tugging and taunting the sensetive numbs, even going as far as slapping them for you because even though you can’t fuck them you might as well have a good view
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osamucide · 20 days
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⊹ 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." ⊹
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ybklix · 2 months
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playing with his hair
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giirrrl idk, a feral thought maybe; bf!felix x fem!reader w his long hair since i’m too lazy to make it a whole detail fic for now lol so, (i deadass tried to make it a drabble but it pass the 1k words😮‍💨)
genre - warnings: smut, fluff!! dry humping, handjob, grinding, unprotected piv, mention of cockwarming, idol bf felix btw
word count: 1.6k
a/n: this is what i have to deal with everyday, actually, oopsies, he’s next to me rn! also writing in present it’s so new, I like to read it when yall write like that, but I’ll stick with past tense😁 edit: girl i had this in the drafts for days, but he was a little too happy in his recent promoting video, he’s sleeping outside, someone pick him up /jk srly pls
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Felix likes to try new hairstyles ever since he let grow his hair, he feels very confident with it and likes the way you randomly stroke it every time you’re together.
Your idea of fun is one of those very rare free afternoons for him since he’s all the time busy at work; it’s when you’re just chilling together at your place because you feel too lazy to go out but very comfortable with each other’s company.
Your days are simple, and your hours with him are very limited but he always makes sure to enjoy being with him; so you try to do everything at once, watch a movie, talk, lay on his chest while he’s playing games on his cell phone… and suddenly, just playing around, with you sitting on his lap in front of him, giggling while playing with his hair.
“Fuck, your hair is so fried” you tease him with a smile, looking at your fingers entangling with his straight hair.
He pouts, “Stop, then don’t touch it…” he responds also joking, just watching you with heart and sparkling eyes.
Felix rests his hands on your tights and caresses them softly. You down your gaze to meet his, he’s suddenly looking at you so sweetly that makes your cheeks get a little warm.
“Can I play with it?” you asked joyfully.
“With what?”
“Your hair” you replied in an obvious tone, “I can do pigtails, braids, middle part, side part” you continue to say, laughing while playing with his hair.
Felix chuckles softly, completely in love, closing his eyes sometimes, then looking up at your arms.
“Wait here” you speak again, standing up from his lap and going to get a comb, hair ties, bobby pins and some random hair clips to take pictures of him just for fun.
“You can also do my make-up if you want” he comments, raising his thick voice so you can hear him.
You sit back down on his lap.
“Oh no, you wear makeup almost every day, let your face rest today” you answer, kissing him tenderly on the bridge of his nose, hiding a little bit the fact that you love seeing your boyfriend’s bare face, straight black eyelashes, big dark eyes, full lips, cheeks and nose with freckles all over.
You laugh at doing whatever you want with his hair, taking silly pictures every time you find him adorable, just giggling saying your favorite inside jokes, then ending with a bow on his hair.
“You can really use me, huh” Felix says, giving you a funny but adorable look with his eyes wide open.
Felix starts caressing your back, with more consistent and intense caresses and he suddenly realizes how you haven’t kissed each other on the lips the whole time, so he moves closer to you and you without hesitation receive his kiss, following a tender and slow rhythm at first, pressing your lips together in a delicate lip rubbing, but you’re a bit desperate when it comes to each other, so your boyfriend catches his breath between kisses and looks himself at the work of being more glued and pouncing on you, with his touches all over your body, from your thighs to your back, slipping his hands under your blouse to feel your bare skin.
Your make out starts to heat up precipitously that you can feel the growing erection in his shorts, so, with your hands wrapped around his neck, you begin to move over his cock, pressing it to your core and stimulating you both. At this point, your pussy is throbbing and you feel slightly heated. You’re always impressed by how incredibly fast you want and desire him. You both moan softly at the friction. As you pull apart you smile slightly mischievously at him and for some reason you start kissing his neck, which Felix loves so, causing him to give you a huge tender smile showing his teeth, clutching his grip on your hips tighter.
You pull away once more to meet the wide grin on his face, which gently turns into a slightly strained expression as you continue to move your body against his erection, Felix gasps, his lips forming a soft expression of satisfaction this time with his submissive facing enjoying the naughty act of crushing his cock with your center, with your clothes on.
“Fuck, baby, it feels so good” Felix sighs, biting his slightly swollen, full lips, lowering his gaze to your pussy being trapped in him, moving his erection back and forth, guiding your hips for better movement.
You smile satisfactorily at him in response, each time feeling the heat of your body and pussy brush against your panties, wetting them all over, just playing more with your arousal. You see him, he looks so fucking cute and yet so hot with the last few hairstyles you gave him, two little high ponytails with bows leaving the rest of his hair loose, he looked silly cute, but serious manly moans coming out of him contrasts somehow so perfectly.
Felix sighs again sonorously, his legs shaking a little, he doesn’t think he can take it long enough without cumming if you keep moving so dedicatedly on him so he speaks again:
“Mmm, c’mon baby, take off your clothes, or do you want me to take you to bed.”
A pleasant shock goes through your body as you hear him a little more needy, you’re not thinking straight and you don’t want to pull away from him so you just reply a simple, “It’s okay like this, Lix.”
With your heart beating fast you grab his shorts, indicating you want to pull them down, Felix helps you right away, releasing his pink, needy, throbbing cock, you look down at his member and then at the same time you join gazes, Felix looks at you so needy and innocent, his big eyes begging you to touch him, you can’t help but melt every time he does that and in a needy sigh, with your cheeks a little red, you stand up, embarrassed, pulling down your comfy cloth shorts along with your panties, climbing back onto his lap, catching your boyfriend licking his lips at the sight of your cute bare mons venus.
Felix smiles, so excited at the thought of feeling you on him again, now with the sensation of your warm wet center in him, he gets more excited at the thought that you were finally going to settle on him ready to fuck, however, you start pumping his entire erect length, making him gasp loudly as he throws his head back, marking his bulging Adam's apple in his throat. Felix returns to his posture, looking straight into you with desire, biting his lip as you with a smile, touch all over his cock, stroking his tip gently with your fingers, feeling his stiffness and the slight sticky precum sliding down your hand as you jerk him off.
You’re so wet, and Felix is getting over the edge, so you finally accommodate your body, squeezing your pussy tighter on his cock, grinding on it a little before you put his cock inside you, encouraging in him more arousal if that was possible, teasing him and you at the sensation of his dick rub between your labia, until you feel his throbbing member so foreplayed, and until you see your boyfriend’s sweet expression as he can’t resist anymore and, finally you insert his rigid manhood completely in you. The temperature of both your bodies rises, it feels so fucking good to be filled by him, every move you make comes out of pure bliss, panting, sliding on his cock in a rhythm that makes him shudder and moan; Felix feels every part of his body beat intensely, enjoying every thrust into him.
“Oh, fuck, l-ove, ke-keep going please, I’m gonna cum, fuuck” he whimpers, desperate in a high-pitched tone, closing his eyes.
Felix thinks about the idea of cumming all of him inside you, of filling you up, brings him to a better ecstasy and in a thick sigh of relief and satisfaction, he manages to cum, relaxing a bit all the tension built in his body, making his thighs restless in soft tingling and trembling. You rest your hands on his shoulders and hide your face on the side of his neck, moaning close to his ear and with your face brushing against his soft hair, gently overwhelming you with his sweet scent, you bite your lip at the sensation of his hot semen shooting inside you and you also sense you’re so close to your climax that, despite being slightly tired, you intensify and increase each movement, sliding a little more slippery as you are filled with his cum. You hug him without thinking, your walls squeeze his sensitive cock still stuck in your core, you’re climaxing so intensely that you open your mouth almost in an inaudible squeal, your vision blurs for a few seconds and you let yourself release completely onto your boyfriend.
You feel the joining of agitated chests and breaths, Felix hug you warmly wrapping your back, once again your body melts at the slightest touch of his, but you can’t help but feel him so close to you, acting tenderly. Felix doesn’t even have to say it, but you know he loves you, you feel it too, so you relax your body on top of him, stroke his hair and he gives you a soft kiss on your shoulder as he caresses your back and keeps you in such a vulnerable position with both sexes together, with you on top of him until you decide to move.
——————-
𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk
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garoujo · 1 year
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✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU ; — you can’t help but feel a little upset thinking that your boyfriend has forgotten your anniversary.
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ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ warnings! f!reader, none, fluff! although it gets a tiny bit hawt at the end! ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! an anon suggested this drabble idea literally like sometime last year + the new szn finally gave me some motivation to write it! i hope u see this!
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3 years.. 3 years and gojo didn’t leave you with so much as a “happy anniversary” as he left this morning. you’d have even taken an extra smack on the ass during your usual morning makeout session, the taste of his two sugar’s too sweet coffee on his tongue as it twists with yours and his hands on your waist.. but that’s it, that’s all???
so now you’re here, angrily stomping back to your shared apartment after the few errands you had to run today because you took the day off to celebrate. but your dumb, stupidly handsome boyfriend doesn’t even know what for as he rambles on the other side of the phone.
“can feel you poutin’, what’s gotten into my sweet girl? hm?” gojo hums like hes thinking about something, his same sickly sweet tone dripping through you like honey despite the way you want to be mad at him right now— you would’ve ignored the call all together, just to be petty if you didn’t know he’d turn up at the door a second later.
“nothing. i’m just almost home that’s all.” you’re lying and you know he can tell, he always could. he could pick up every slight, little change in your attitude like he seen right through you.
“oh yeah? nothing at all on your mind?” gojo drawls again, there’s a teasing lull to his voice and it makes your pout puff out even more before he breathes out a low chuckle and sighs. “and here i thought you were mad at me. you almost made me cry at work— who would take me seriously then, huh?”
“you’re not funny.” you huff out, short and a little clipped as you finally come to a stop infront of your apartment door — fiddling with your keys in your hand while your pout still rests on your features.
“you sure?”
you really can’t be bothered playing gojo’s games right now and as amusing as he seems to find himself, it’s only making you burn hotter — making your stomach twist with the lump in your throat that you’ve been fighting to keep down all day. you don’t want to get upset, but it meant a lot to you.
you just wanted him to maybe put in a little effort on the one day that you guys really get to celebrate eachother.
“positive. so i’m gonna g—“ you can barely finish your own spiralling, upsetting thoughts before your snapped response through your phone fades on your tongue. but suddenly, the tears youd been fighting to hold back all day seem to come so ruthlessly, gathering along your lashes as you gaze onto the ocean of red that greets you as you open the door.
you’re not sure how many bouquets there are waiting for you there. hundreds? thousands? sitting pretty along the floor, decorating the shared space so beautifully that you don’t even realise that you’ve gone quiet. ofcourse gojo would do something like this, and suddenly you feel a little silly for even doubting him.
“ah, fine. i guess i’ll get the guy to come pick all of those back up then, huh, sweet thing?”
but the smooth tone that sounds from your phone speaker sounds a little louder, closer when it’s accompanied by a long arm wrapping around your waist from behind as kisses are pressed up the side of your neck.
“but, you—“ you try but you feel so overwhelmed, so full of love as gojo’s large figure drapes over you from behind. his face is stuffed into the crook of your neck and you can feel the way his crooked smile sits on his features as it presses against your skin. he feels warm, although you’re sure he’s more than smug right now when he pulls away with an exaggerated gasp that cuts off your sentence.
“as if you’re perfect, good looking boyfriend would ever forget. what do you take me for, hm?” you giggle at that despite the way he’s teasing you again, squeezing at your sides until you’re meeting his gaze and you’re sure you must look so in love when you notice the way his features soften slightly.
“happy anniversary, princess.” gojo grins as he leans into kiss you breathless, twisting into your mouth as his tongue pushes past your lips and you almost rock back with how dizzy he makes you feel. but his hands are on your hips, keeping you close against his chest with a stability that you’d always found in him.
another long press of his lips with yours and you whimper sweetly as he pulls away to look at you, pretty gaze glowing slightly from under the snowy peaks of his hair before he’s smirking again, maybe a little wider this time.
“you gonna laugh f’ me when i tell jokes again? i can feel the tears threatening to start again.” he’s like a professional when his cheeky grin twists into an exaggerated pout, making you laugh again— a little harder this time before you’re pinching at his cheeks playfully and bringing him in for another quick kiss.
“you’re such a dork.” you tease and gojo groans against your lips like he’s offended.
“mmm, no thank you? oh i’m hurt, sweet girl. what’ll i do with you now, hm?” the look he gives you as he pulls away is suspicious, a raised brow as his head falls to the side and he really looks like he’s considering it. until the next moment his large palm is coming down heavy on your ass before his next handful squeezes.
“satoru!” you squeal but that only seems to make him chuckle as he leans down to kiss you again, rougher this time despite the way you’re both smiling giddily into the shared, messy press of eachother. almost too quickly finding yourself pressed up against the wall in the hallway as he melts into you.
“let’s see! oh, i’ve got a few ideas.”
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© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.
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frudoo · 2 months
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I really like your writing! I'm so glad I found your page. I was wondering if I could do a drabble or little one shot ask about the 141 boys (poly or individual doesn't matter either way) I just had this idea because there's so many ideas about the boys not thinking they're good enough for their girl but what if it was the opposite way and I was wondering what you'd think their reactions would be.
The idea is that their girl is on the phone with her friend thinking they can't hear her talking (maybe they were asleep or out for a run or something) and her friend asks how things are going with them. Their girl full on gushes about the boys to her friend and her friend is like "oooo sounds like love to me! Have you told them yet?" And their girl is like "I... No of course not...They can't love me, I couldn't possibly expect them to."
This is long but thank you for listening to me ramble!
PLEASE I got so sappy with this one I just couldn't stop my fingers from typing. Also you're such a sweetheart <333
Warnings: Mentions of self-doubt, food, mentions of sex. Fem!Reader. MDNI.
Kyle Garrick:
     Kyle’s had a long day, and the man just wants a proper cup of tea. He starts down the hallway, but when he hears his name coming from your room, he stops dead in his tracks. He knows it’s wrong, but he can’t help but crack your door open to eavesdrop a bit. 
     “I’m telling you, he’s perfect! When I have a bad day, he’ll take me out for coffee, or we’ll go for a walk or just look around the pet store. Sometimes he’ll even do my laundry! It’s- it’s not a crush anymore. I’m in love with him,” you ramble on to your friend, who’s giggling with glee over the speaker of your phone.
     “Well, have you told him?” She questions excitedly, and you go quiet for a moment.
     “Of course I haven’t. Why would I? It’s not… it’s not like he feels the same. I’d just be hurting myself,” you reply sadly.
     Kyle frowns deeply, and he’s almost positive he can physically feel his heart breaking. God, he’d rather fall out of another helo than ever hear you sound so distraught again. He wants nothing more than to barge into your room and pull you into his arms, kiss away all your doubts and prove to you just how much he loves you. Instead, the sound of your voice brings him back to reality. 
     “I think I’m gonna grab a snack. It was good talking to you,” you hang up the phone and open your door, surprised to see your roommate standing right there. “Kyle! Shit, did- did you-? I’m so-”
     “Y’mean it?” Kyle asks softly, not wanting you to feel embarrassed.
     Even so, you sheepishly nod your head, unable to meet his eyes. His warm hands cup your face and lift your head up to look at him, and he smiles so warmly that you can’t help but do the same.
     “Silly girl. I love you, too.”
     John Price:
     The base was dead today, barely any paperwork to do or new recruits to train. For the first time in months, John was able to get off on time, and he decided to surprise you with a bouquet of flowers and your favorite Indian food. When he arrives at your flat, he uses his spare key to unlock the door and steps inside, kicking off his boots—ever since that one time you playfully lectured him on keeping your home clean, he’s engraved the rule into his brain.
     John sets your gifts on the island in your kitchen, glancing around for any signs of where you could be. You’re definitely home, he can tell that much by your keys dangling off the holder and your own shoes by the door. He carefully steps through the hallway and hears your unmistakable voice in the bathroom, along with the quiet sound of running water. He goes to turn the handle but decides against it when he hears his name slip from your lips.
     “God, I love John so much, you don’t understand. He’s everything I could ever want. Every time I see him, I just- I wanna kiss him stupid, y’know? I mean, shit, he’s already seen every part of me since he’s my best friend and all.”
     “So… when are you gonna tell him? It sounds like he’s interested, babe,” your friend’s voice rings through your phone. “Best friends don’t normally just see each other naked.”
     “Oh, stop it. There’s no way he could feel the same. I’m just… I couldn’t ask that of him. It wouldn’t be fair.”
     John’s heard enough. He trudges back into the kitchen and fixes your plate of takeout, as well as a glass of wine and some chocolates. He arranges the food on a tray and brings it back to the bathroom, not even bothering to knock before walking inside. You scream, and normally he would laugh, but he’s so hurt that you think you’re unworthy of his love, and he’s dead set on proving otherwise. 
     “Do you always scare the shit out of people you’re trying to surprise?” You laugh, hand resting on your chest as if it’ll calm your beating heart.
     “Only the one I’m in love with, sweet girl.”
     Simon Riley:
     “M’gonna step out for a smoke, love,” Simon informs you, and you nod politely.
     The coffee shop is a little too crowded for Simon’s liking, and he needs a break. Your company is the sweetest he could ask for, and he feels bad leaving you for even a second, but the demons in his head were begging for an escape. Still, he stands by the window where your table is located just so he can keep an eye on you. Call it a weakness, but when he sees you messaging your friend, he can’t tear his eyes away from the conversation. Thank the heavens for the little slip-up the café made, having the one-way windows installed inside out.
yeah he’s like,,, stupidly perfect
it’s like he’s trying to make me lose it???
like sir i’m already in love with you
what more do you want
lmaooo why haven’t u told him yet????
he’s obviously in love with ur dumb ass too
oh fuck off
you know we’re just friends
don’t give me hope
     Simon frowns deeply, tossing the butt of his cigarette on the ground and crushing it with his boot. He’s spent his whole life in shackles, deeming himself unlovable, unworthy of anything good or sweet or kind. But when he met you, those thoughts dissolved like melting snow—he even took the mask off for you. He didn’t even know it was possible to love somebody so much, so to have the one person he adores more than anything in the world doubt herself? He won’t have it. 
     He reenters the coffee shop in a hurry, long legs striding over to you as quickly as possible. Before you can even react, he leans down to press his lips against yours, hands firmly on your face to keep you still. When he pulls back, he’s near tears looking at your shocked expression.
     “I don’t love y’like a friend. I love y’like a man loves his wife, like you’re the air I breathe. I’ve always been yours, y’hear me? Always.”
     Johnny MacTavish:
     Johnny’s expecting to feel your warm body beside his when he wakes, but instead he’s met with the soft thud of his arm onto the unoccupied sheets where you should be. He frowns and rubs the sleep from his eyes, checking his phone—it’s only 4:00 in the morning, and the sun isn’t even out yet. You’ve obviously not been in bed for a while, and it worries him. Did you leave in the middle of the night, all by yourself? Shit, what if something bad happened to you?
     Johnny hops out of bed and quickly pulls on his jeans from last night, starting a frantic search through his house. You’re not in the bathroom, or in any of the spare rooms, not even the sunroom where you love to cozy up and read a book. The last place he thinks to check is the kitchen, and lo and behold, there you are, brewing some coffee and talking on the phone to someone. Your best friend, he realizes, when you put the call on speaker to pour yourself a cup. 
     “It’s just… last night, he told me he loved me, and it- I don’t know. It ruined me. I couldn’t even finish, I had to fake it.”
     Johnny freezes and leans against the door frame. His stomach feels sick suddenly—did he really fuck up that bad last night? God, he knew he should have just kept his mouth shut, but he figured there was no better time to confess his feelings for you while he was… well, inside of you. He really thought you felt the same. Your little sniffle drags him out of his thoughts, and his eyes land on your now crying figure once again.
     “N-no, you don’t understand. I know he just said it because of the sex. I’m not… he couldn’t love me. Not the way I love him. We’re just friends who happen to sleep together sometimes. It’s my own fault for catching feelings when he- he deserves someone so much better,” the break in your voice destroys Johnny and all he can do is listen as your best friend calms you down.
     He doesn’t make a move until you’ve hung up. Only after you’ve set the phone down does he come barreling in, wrapping his strong arms around you, ignoring your shriek of surprise. Johnny pulls back to cup your face in his hands, thumbs wiping away the fresh tears that managed to slip past your waterline.
“Ye’re the only one ah want. D’ye understand? Ye’re the only one fer me. Ah meant wha’ ah said, hen, ah love ye. There’s no’ a force on this earth tha’ could make me want ye less. Ye’re mine, alreit? As much as ah’m all yers.”
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synthetickitsune · 3 months
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Hi!! I love your work sm and I was wondering if u could write a minghao drabble with the prompt “you don’t count- I love u” thank u 🤍🤍
The8 (SVT) | "You don't count - I love you" fluff | 0.8k | gn!reader A/N: thank you for requesting! also inspired by @hanniedream's froggy ring post and bibi being a menace feeding into all of my delusions
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“Absolutely not.”
You pout at him, whine his name, whisper into his ear how cute it would be to have a matching jewelry - a silly piece, the exact opposite of the classy necklaces and rings and bracelets you already had plenty of. But nothing gets Minghao to change his mind, and so the little froggy faces can only watch as you leave the store without them.
You sulk about it only a little. At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter. Your relationship matters, and it’s loving and wonderful, and Minghao is the best partner you could wish for. What would be the point in wearing a matching ring if you knew he hated it? He always makes sure you don’t lack anything you want or need, silly or serious. You let it go and truth be told, the entire thing slips your mind.
Until today.
Until today’s afternoon, to be exact, today’s very ordinary afternoon when your boyfriend suddenly told you to close your eyes before putting a little box in your palms.
“Open it,” he smiles at you as he sits down next to you.
You feel a lump in your throat. There are two rings staring at you. Matching rings. One with a little black frog, its limbs spread as if it was swimming, and the other with little lily pads and a white blossom. Minghao must’ve had them made, you don’t think he could find rings like this in a shop somewhere. 
“Do you like them?” he asks with a small smile. His hand slowly rubs circles on the small of your back. You look at him in disbelief.
“Why Hao?” you take a shaky breath. He frowns, sitting closer to you and putting his other hand over your knee. 
“What do you mean why?” his brows are knitted together, “Do you not like them?”
“No, I do - I love them,” you sigh, “But you hate things like this.”
You look at them again. The sizes make it pretty clear which ring is his and which is yours. He’ll look even more like he came out of a fairytale with the tiny blossom adoring his finger. You truly love them. You love the cute little frog. And you appreciate the gesture, but…
“I wouldn’t get them if I hated the idea - or if I didn’t like these rings themselves,” he assures you patiently.
“But you hated the silly frog rings I showed you,” you argue back, making Minghao smile and pinch your cheek.
“And I didn’t get those, did I?” he watches you laugh and loosens up a little himself.
“These are still silly,” you shake your head, “More… tasteful and elegant, but silly.”
“I’m good at compromising with you,” he grins. His thumb strokes your knee absentmindedly. It’s good to see you relax again, good to see the tender look in your eyes as you study the rings.
He looks at the box resting in your hands and carefully takes it from you. He slides the frog adorned ring on your finger before handing the now half-empty box back to you. Suddenly he feels shy when you take his hand in yours. You stroke your thumb over the ring once it sits on his finger, tapping the little flower. 
“You know you can tell me if you don’t like them or if I hurt you before and you no longer want silly matching rings. I won’t be upset,” not at you anyway - but he doesn’t say that.
“I’m really happy, Hao,” you lean in for a kiss that he’s more than happy to give you, “I just don’t want you to do anything you don’t like.”
“I’m not,” he threatens the doubts in your mind with a slight pout on his lips.
“You always shut everyone down with things like this though,” you don’t give up, stubborn as he is.
“Well,” he smirks mischievously and leans closer again to steal another kiss, “You don’t count - I love you.”
“That’s so corny,” you scrunch up your nose, pushing at Minghao’s chest without any force. It’s only natural that with every push comes a pull, so you don’t struggle when he pulls you into his side.
“But I won’t wear mine all the time, just so we’re clear,” he says softly yet firmly enough to let you know it’s not up for debate. Still he looks at the ring with a smile.
“I guessed you don’t have that many fits to match it,” you tease, “But I’ll wear mine all the time just so you know.”
“I’ll wear it when I’m not running around schedules. And when I’m with you. We shouldn’t leave the frog without its home for too long, hm?” he laces your fingers together. You gasp when you see it - like this it indeed looks like the frog is swimming towards the lily pads. You can’t help but laugh and snuggle closer to him.
You guess it is a little like that - Mingao is your home.
And you’re Minghao’s whole life, giving his existence a purpose. Even if that might be too much for a little frog to convey.
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moonstruckme · 5 months
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have a bonfire - send a character + a trope (one bed, fake dating, etc.) and I’ll write a drabble
steve harrington + friends to lovers maybe? definitely feeling lovesick steve rn 😮‍💨
Thanks for requesting lovely mal <3
Steve Harrington x fem!reader ♡ 698 words
The movie theater is dark, and yet Steve catches sight of you the second you step inside. His heart does a dumbass little somersault. 
“Y/n’s here?” he whispers to Robin, who’s sitting next to him and using her licorice as a straw. On his other side, Eddie’s kicked his feet up on the seat in front of him like a total asshole. 
“Oh, yeah.” Robin waves to you, and you spot them, heading over. “I invited her.” 
“You didn’t say she was coming.” 
Robin gives Steve a sideways glance. It’s tinged with a meaning he refuses to decode. “I didn’t realize I needed to check with you.” 
He huffs. You’re climbing the steps, still three rows from reaching them. “Move over by Eddie.” 
Robin turns towards him now, eyebrows raising. “You’re not serious.” 
“Go!” 
“Dingus.” She musses his hair spitefully as she stands, just so he’ll have to fix it, waving over her shoulder at you as you start shimmying down their row. 
You wave back, smiling bemusedly as you take her seat beside Steve. “Hey,” you say. 
“Hey.” He’s grinning like an idiot, and he can’t seem to stop. He wasn’t expecting to see you today. “Long time, no see.” 
You go a bit sheepish, the previews casting a red hue over your features. “Yeah, sorry. Work’s been keeping me busy lately. Three people quit at once, so everyone’s expected to cover until they can hire new ones.” 
Steve grimaces. “Yikes.” He has the urge to tell you to quit and let him pay for everything, as if that’s something he can fiscally manage or even remotely normal. “That sucks,” he says instead. 
“Yeah, hopefully it’s not for long.” You get comfy, slipping off your shoes and putting your socked feet up on the seat. Your knees lean onto your shared armrest, within a pinkie’s reach of Steve’s hand. “I actually just got off, I didn’t grab anything from concessions because I was worried I’d miss the beginning.” 
“Oh, no way.” The movie starts, and he lowers his voice but neither of you turn towards the screen. “Want me to run and grab you something?”
You give him a funny smile. It makes your cupid’s bow flatten out and Steve thinks that if he were to kiss you, he’d start there. “No,” you whisper, “you shouldn’t have to miss anything either.” 
“It’s okay,” he promises you. “I don’t even really care if I see this.” He has been looking forward to it ever since he saw the commercial, honestly, but he’s happy to miss it for you. 
“I’m fine,” you reply, “but thanks, Steve.” 
“At least have some of mine.” Eddie shushes him loudly, and Steve kicks the underside of his knee, making the other boy curse. “I’ve got coke and popcorn, that okay?” 
The movie glows blue over your face as you grin, eyes twinkling in the low light. “Classics. But I’m not gonna take your food.” 
“I’m not gonna eat it all,” Steve argues. “These are both extra-larges. You think I bought that all for myself?” He absolutely did. 
You lean in closer, your knees touching the side of his hand. “You paid for them,” you whisper. 
“So?”
“So, I’d feel bad.” 
“Then make it up to me.” Steve hopes he doesn’t look as nervous as he feels. He’s never been able to lay on the charm with you like he can with other girls, he doesn’t know why. Or maybe he does. “Come with us back to my place tonight. We’re ordering pizza.” 
“So,” you murmur through a smile, “make it up to you by taking more of your food, is what you’re saying.” 
“Uh-huh, exactly.” He takes a sip of his coke and then angles the straw in your direction. “Deal?” 
You drop your eyes for a second, shaking your head like he’s silly, and Steve knows he’s won even before you meet his gaze again. 
“Deal.” You wrap your lips around his straw, sucking in a mouthful before letting go. “You drive a hard bargain, Harrington.” 
Steve grins, laying bay in his seat and totally not thinking about how his pinkie is grazing your thigh. “Yeah, that’s what they tell me.” 
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scream4ash · 2 months
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size kink w/ amber??
silly lil drabble bc i’m too fucked up to write smthn real
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my gf is just so silly n so pretty 😵‍💫
amber freeman x f!reader
warnings: smut 18+; strap on (r giving); size kink; name calling?; multiple orgasms; spanking; pussy slapping; pussy eating; subby!amber >_<
summary: ambs just wants needs her pretty cunny stretched out 😣😣
a/n: sorry guys, i genuinely haven’t been sober in weeks. i would say i’m trying, but i’m really not. addiction sucks, don’t do it. again, sorry for these fuck ass drabbles.
nsfw content below, mdni.
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loosely inspired by this
“a-ah, fuck.” a strained moan left amber’s lips, her head lulling forward. ur hips gained a faster pace, thrusting the giant dildo into her stretched cunt faster, smacking her ass.
“fucking whore. jus’ been needing me to stretch ur pretty cunny, hm baby?” ur words were mocking, ur hands guiding her hips to get her to take more of the fake cock. u could see the way her cunt stretched around the silicon, the way her thighs trembled as she struggled to ride u.
“y/n!”, she nearly sobbed as u pulled her down, forcing the whole length into her tight pussy. she wiggled her ass from side to side, enjoying the feeling of being so fucking full. u let out a soft moan feeling the friction against ur core. fingers grip the fat of her ass, nearly whining as u watched her.
“fuck, ambs. u like it? u like being full?”, u asked mockingly, delivering a harsh smack to her ass. “since u like being so fucking full, ride.” ur tone was harsh, demanding. the hand still on her hip guided her to start riding, the strap brushing against ur clit perfectly. “amber, shit. look s’ pretty, baby. taking my big fat cock.”
u hear a choked sob leave her lips, though her hips moved faster, her pussy practically swallowing the fake dick. “gon’- gonna cum y/n.. oh, fuck!”, her words are slurred, too caught up in her pleasure.
“c’mon, amber. don’t tell me this little fucking made u stupid now. u know what u gotta do, pretty girl.”, u said sternly, thrusting ur hips up in timing with hers. the base of the strap hit ur clit perfectly, bringing u closer n closer to ur orgasm.
“please.. lemme-“, she cuts herself off with a moan, speeding up her bounces. u can see her pussy clench around ur cock, how she’s practically sucking it in. “fuck.. lemme- lemme cum, y/n.. please..” her ass jiggled each time ur guys’ hips met. it was the prettiest sight u had ever seen.
her melodic moans and pleas were music to ur ears. u wanted to be mean, to edge her, but u couldn’t. not when she sounded so pretty. not when u were this close to ur own climax.
“c’mon, baby.. cum for me, u fucking whore.”, ur words are followed by a low groan, ur hands guiding her hips to speed up. her hips stuttered, her thighs trembling in ur hold.
u didn’t even need the breathy “i’m- i’m cumming..”, that left her pouty lips to know she was cumming. she continued to bounce on the silicone cock, riding out her orgasm.
u felt ur own climax building, just begging for release. “ambs, fuck.. ‘m gonna cum baby..”
she rolled her hips against the strap, watching u over her shoulder. “oh?”, she muttered teasingly, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth seductively. “u gonna cum inside me? i want u to fill me up..” she shook her ass teasingly, watching pleasure overtake ur features.
“amber, fuck..” u thrusted ur hips up, u moaned in sync with each other, her second orgasm of the night approaching.
her soft moans turned into broken cries, just begging to cum, begging for u to cum. u cum with a breathy moan, a whine getting caught in the back of ur throat. u watch her pussy cum around ur cock for the second time tonight, seeing a creamy, white ring around the base.
u pull out of her, lightly slapping her pussy, chucking when u heard a soft cry from her. “c’mon, baby.. i wanna taste u, lay down for me.”, u said sweetly, undoing the straps around ur waist and putting the toy aside.
she layed back against the duvet, spreading her legs, giving u a glimpse of her ruined pussy. she looked so pretty like this, her lip tugged between her teeth, her stretched pussy lips glistening with cum and a fresh layer of arousal.
u dip ur finger into her pussy, a playful ‘tsk’ leaving ur lips when she tries to pull away. “just lay there and take it, baby.. be a good girl.”, u mutter sweetly, pressing a kiss against her thigh. u attach ur lips to her clit almost immediately, moaning into her pussy when she tugs at ur hair.
“baby, fuck.. fuckfuckfuck..”, she whispers as she desperately tries to push u away from her overstimulated cunt. she arches into u, whining so pathetically when u pin her against the bed by her thighs. u flick ur tongue against her clit, pushing two fingers into her dripping hole.
“i know u have one more for me, ambs.. c’mon.. jus’ lemme have one more..”, u mutter against her pussy, ur words muffled by her cunt. she bucks her hips into ur mouth, moaning.
u feel her walls squeeze ur fingers, her clit pulsing against ur tongue rhythmically, she was close. u trace hearts against her hips with ur thumb, speeding up ur assault on her pussy.
she cums with a silent scream, her head thrown back in ecstasy. her thighs tremble, her hands pushing u away once she finally came down, overstimulation becoming a very real thing. u trail gentle kisses up her body, finally pressing a kiss against her lips.
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a/n2: so uh, this is actually really long. but it’s pure smut. maybe even the best thing i’ve ever written. in my opinion, at least. yay4relapse?!!?!?
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lovelaurs · 4 months
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hi!! i really like your writing:) you followed me last night and i was So Confused because i don’t post i just repost with stupid tags HAHA if you can and your requests are open (i checked like 29 times and read the rules and im still scared im gonna mess this up and i missed something), can you write a suggestive mcd garroth and laurance little drabble? if you want a direction to go in, i really like fanfics where they fight and it turns into a suggestive bit ^_^ thanks so much aahhh!!!!!!!!!!!!
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TRAINING TOGETHER
featuring : mcd garroth & laurance x gn reader synopsis : after deciding to train to be a guard, you seek the help of none other then a knight from phoenix drop. yet, after a tough training session, things begin to get a bit out of hand... tags : mature, romance, friends to lovers, sword-fighting, training, kissing, making out, suggestive word count : 2.5k | around 1.2k per character! a/n : woohoo, my first request done! this was really fun to write, so i hope you enjoy!! these two were so silly to write, i just love them so much!
MASTERLIST
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GARROTH
As someone who has always dreamt of being a guard, you didn’t exactly have the schedule of one.
After sleeping in for what seemed later than normal, your eyes quickly shot open as you remembered what today was.
Shit.
Your weekly training with Garroth was this morning.
As you quickly shot up from your bed, you ran around your house putting on the first pieces of clothing you could find.
After slipping over a plain tunic along with some boots, you swung open your door, slamming it behind you as you sprinted towards the training grounds.
As you passed through the town, many of the other villagers looked at you with amusement as you exhausted yourself on the way there. They had gotten used to watching you run late to almost everything.
Ever since you were younger, you had always aimed to be a guard.
Except, with the village guards being scarce and always so busy, you were never able to train. This was the very reason that got you rejected from the training program in O’khasis.
Of course, since things have been more and more easier under Lord Aphmau’s rule, the guards have increased, and with that, so has their availability.
After seeking out a guard to help train you, the Head Guard, Garroth, gladly accepted. Even though he himself learnt his sword-fighting in O’khasis, he always mentioned that it wasn’t required to make a good guard, and that all that mattered was the strength in one’s loyalty.
Since you met him from when he arrived, he always showed himself to be loyal.
Ever since then, your hopes have been raised.
It has been weeks since you began training with him, your sword-fighting skills increasing almost tenfold since the first day.
And yet one thing has never changed.
Your tardiness.
As arrived at the training grounds, you keeled over, hands on your knees as you breathed deeply. A disapproving Garroth watched from afar, smiling at the scene.
“Yet again you're late.” He noted, leaning against the guard tower.
“Yeah,” You panted. “No shit.” 
He frowned at your response. “Watch your tone, we’re supposed to be prepping you to be a guard, remember? Guards do not speak that way.” As you finally caught your breath, you stood up straight, nodding. “Right… I’m sorry.” “Great.” Garroth pushed himself off the bricks, reaching for his sword. “Now, are you ready to begin our training that was supposed to start at sunrise?” He teased.
“Haha, very funny.” You sighed at the remark, reaching for the hilt of your sword… before finding it not there.
You frantically patted yourself down, quickly realizing that you had forgotten your sword at home.
“You know, I was waiting for you to notice.” Garroth chuckled. He motioned his head towards the guard tower. “Go grab an extra sword from the armory.” You groaned as you made your way over there, picking up a random sword. 
As you made your way back over to the training grounds, you noticed Garroth watched you with a smirk.
All you wanted was to wipe that stupid look off his face.
As you took your position, readying your sword in front of you, you let your eyes focus on the trained knight before you.
This man had been trained amongst would be Jury Of Nine members, so of course he’d be tough to beat.
It wasn’t until he counted down that you brought yourself back to the present, focusing.
As the word “go” left his mouth, he rushed towards you, unrelenting on his force.
His first contact with your sword was strong, catching you off guard. You held your stance, pushing against his blade, causing him to jump back to regain his own footing.
“Nice defense, your hold is getting stronger.” He smirked, slowly circling you like a shark staring down its prey.
As it seemed he was going to keep taunting you, never truly moving towards you, you decided to take the opportunity to take the lead.
You rushed towards him, putting all your strength into the swing of your sword as it collided with his.
He held his stance, before you both pulled back, colliding your swords once more.
It wasn’t until you shared several more blows that you started to feel sweat pooling on your forehead. This singular match has gone on longer than your usual time, so it wasn’t surprising that your muscles started to ache in response.
Out of nowhere, Garroth swung his sword with all his might, causing your own blade to go flying off towards the bushes behind you.
As you fell to the ground, the blonde stood above you, holding his sword towards your throat.
“You need to work on your grip.” He heaved, before sheathing his sword, offering his hand out to you with a smile.
That’s when you thought of something devious.
You swept your leg under his, causing him to fall on top of you with an “Oof!”.
“And you should work on your stance.” You giggled. 
Garroth adjusted himself, his hands caging you in on both sides of your shoulders. As he took notice of your current position, he paused, just looking at you in the eyes.
You couldn’t help notice just how beautiful his cerulean eyes were. You were so lost within the blue that you didn’t notice how his pupils dilated, his position above you growing stiff.
It was then that his eyes wandered down to your lips, almost watching them impatiently.
With that, you practically couldn’t stop yourself from looping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer.
As the two of you sat in silence, it wasn’t long before Garroth spoke.
“Can… Can I kiss you?”
A sense of wonder filled his eyes as he watched your expression switch into one of joy.
You smiled, slightly tilting your head. “Yes.” When he kissed you, it felt like all pieces of a puzzle were finally connected. With his lips locked against yours, you savored the feeling as much as possible.
He pulled back for a breath for only about five seconds before diving back to kiss you once again.
His lips hurriedly pressed against yours as if the two of you were running out of time and his goal was to taste your lips on a dying breath.
As if a knee-jerk reaction, you slowly moved your hands from around his neck to his hips, pulling his lower half closer. Garroth couldn’t help but groan at the friction.
His face was flushed, tinted pink all the way to the tips of his ears.
As you lay beneath the blushing blonde, it wasn’t long before your perfect moment was interrupted.
“Sir Garroth! Come quick! Kiki’s animals got loose and-”
The two of you whipped your heads around to see a dirtied Dante, covered in hoove marks and mud, looking at you both all flustered.
He quickly brought his hand to his face, covering his eyes. “Oh my- uh, nevermind! I’m sorry to interrupt-” He stuttered as he began to quickly rush away.
Garroth stumbled off of you, rolling over in the grass before stumbling as he went to chase after Dante “W-Wait! It’s not what it looks like!”
You couldn’t help but giggle at the guard’s reaction to being caught, catching his attention.
He turned around, puffing his cheeks. “Don’t think you’re getting away from this!” He yelled, before giving you a soft smirk. “I’ll swing by your house later this evening to continue where we left off, okay?”
And with that, he ran after the younger blue-haired knight.
Now it was your turn to flush, as your mind conjured up several images within your mind that left not much to the imagination.
And you just couldn’t wait.
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LAURANCE
Who in Irene’s name suggests training in the middle of the woods?
As you made your way through the shrubbery, pushing aside all sorts of branches and leaves, you kept asking yourself if you were going the right way.
When you left the gates of Phoenix Drop earlier in the day, you felt something in your stomach twist. Perhaps it was a bad omen as to your situation now?
The training area Laurance had told you to meet at was somewhat northwest of the wall, in a clearing in which you could see the ocean.
As if such directions would be easy to follow within an overgrown forest such as this!
He had originally suggested it in an empty area so the two of you “could have no distractions”, which in hindsight, you seriously should have doubted more. That charmer of a man always had ulterior motives.
The brunette himself had gone ahead of you earlier in the day, saying he’d set up the area with equipment and some rations. 
Why the hell did you let him go ahead of you?!
As you continued to stumble over tree roots and unforeseen rocks, your eyes eventually caught sight of the ocean.
You had to be close!
You continued to trudge forward, your new boots practically covered in dirt. As you made your way into the clearing, you saw Laurance polishing his sword, his hair tied up into a small ponytail.
While you approached him, you stepped on a twig, alerting him of your presence.
“Took you long enough.” He smirked, raising his head to look at you. “For a minute I was beginning to think you stood me up.”
You scoffed, taking off your satchel and placing it next to what seemed to be the bag of rations he had brought. “Maybe I would have gotten here sooner if someone had at least made it more obvious where this “secret” area was.” 
“You do know what the word secret means, do you not?” He chuckled. “And besides, I’m sort of glad you had to stumble through the woods by yourself. I mean, just look at the state you’re in right now!” He held back a laugh, covering his mouth with his hand as he pointed at you.
You quickly looked around your clothes, seeing countless spots of dirt littered across it, before patting your head to find leaves scattered amongst your hair. You picked out as many twigs from your hair as you could before finally dusting yourself off.
You swung your head back towards his direction with a pout. “I can’t stand you.”
He smiled at the comment, before standing up with his sword in hand, throwing away the cloth he used to polish the blade beforehand.
“So, are you ready to face the all mighty, powerful Laurance?” You guffawed at the comment. “My, it seems you're even more full of yourself than usual.” You unsheathed your own blade in response.
As the two of you began to circle the area, an unspoken commencement of the training between you two, you kept distance from the brunette as you surveyed his moves.
You kept watching his stance, waiting for an opening, until out of chance his foot slipped up just slightly.
Perfect.
You lept towards him, raising your blade above your head before bringing it down with such might that even he was surprised. 
He blocked it easily, sure, but his stance was still unstable. Your first move had caused him to move his feet to re-adjust himself.
A great play indeed.
Your eyes watched as he let his feet move back.
He must have sensed your motives, as his eyes followed yours to his feet. Of course, being the trained guard he was, he wasn’t about to just let you defeat him so easily from a minor slip-up.
The Shadow Knight decided to turn the tables on you, swooping beneath your own feet, causing you to slam into the ground.
He followed you soon after, pushing his sword against yours whilst on top of you. Your eyes trailed over his body, trying to find a weak spot to escape your soon defeat.
Soon, your eyes landed on the side of his lower abdomen, and your foot instinctively kicked him, causing him to fall off to the side.
You took the chance and jumped onto him, your knee pinning down the arm in which he held his sword, with your own blade aimed at his neck.
As you straddled his waist, pinning him down by your blade, you couldn’t help but breath heavily.
“I won.” You smiled, watching as his light blue eyes never left your own. “I won!” You repeated, only this time cheering.
He smirked as you took pride in your victory. “Really? Because right now it really feels like I won.” His eyes wandered, looking you up and down.
You couldn’t help but slightly flush, realizing the position the two of you were in. “You know I can slit your throat if I wanted to, right?” “And yet you don’t seem to be doing it.” He smiled smugly. “Seems to me that you might care for little ol’ Laurance.”
You rolled your eyes as you sheathed your sword back within your scabbard. “In your dreams.” You responded, before turning to get off of the knight.
That was when he grabbed your hand, pulling you flush against him, before he rolled you both over; switching your positions.
As he towered over you on the ground, he brought his hand to your cheek, cupping it gently, before whispering your name.
Your face flushed, the color change obvious enough for Laurance to notice with a smirk. He began to lean down, closing in the proximity between the two of you.
Before simply plucking a stray leaf from your hair.
“You missed a spot.” This. Asshole.
The look of disappointment seemed to have shown as your face, as his smug grin grew even wider. “Hm? What’s wrong? You look a bit frustrated.” He teased, basking in the fruits of his actions.
You puffed your cheeks, sighing. “You know, if you’re thinking about doing something, just go ahead and do it instead of humiliating me.”
A confused look spread across his face before he smiled again, leaning closer to you. “So you do want me.”
“Shut up and kiss me already.”
It took only a moment for that to process in his brain before he swooped in and planted his lips upon yours.
Your heart fluttered as you felt Laurance battle to take the lead. His lips almost fight against yours as if you were dueling once more.
At some point, you decided to just let him win, seeing as you beat him in your duel.
That’s when he turned you over, both of you laying on your sides as his hands flew to grip your hips. The action caused you to let out a gasp on Laurance's lips, which he took as an opportunity to let his tongue explore. His knee popped up in response, placing itself between your thighs.
You felt like you were going to die. From the way he kissed you, to the grip he had on your hips, and the friction he was causing between your legs? Oh my Irene, it was incredible.
As he pulled back to take a breath, you suddenly realized the two of you were outside… anyone could see you.
But your worries were quickly assuaged as you realized… This place was secret after all.
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@lovelaurs, 2024. do not repost this work in any way!
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icyowl · 4 months
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12:29, a Soshiro Hoshina sick-fic drabble
Pairing: Soshiro Hoshina x reader
Synopsis: teeny tiny drabble with Hoshina and the ever-popular sick fic trope. 700 words.
A/N: I'm sorry about being a little MIA. I've been going through various things since Jan. and for the first time in my life I'm critiquing my writing to the point of being unable to produce anything. Trying to get slowly back into the groove by writing this lil' guy. I promise I'm still here!
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“At ease, soldier.” Soshiro said to you as he passed, grinning and relaxed.
“Yes, sir.” You replied, masking your grimace as a smile. Thankfully, he mistook the listless look in your eyes for fondness. Soshiro continued on his way, mind occupied with last night’s rendezvous and how the warmth of your head had felt on his shoulder. If he could ensure no intrusions, he’d do it again right now. He would have to settle for another time.
Soshiro reminisced as he left you behind, your smile and his hand in yours and the way you laughed still on his mind. The base’s halls hadn’t felt nearly as dark or musty since the two of you had started your. . . thing. He might have to advise the captain to get her own relationship; maybe she’d liven up a little.
The sound of someone falling had him rapidly backtracking, coming around the corner to find you sitting slumped against the grimy wall. He hurried over, calling your name, and saw how the dreamy look in your eyes had become languid. Where he’d placed his hand on your back felt unreasonably warm even through the fabric of your suit.
You wouldn’t lift your head to talk to him. Your voice had given in and become hoarse. “I’m okay, sir. Just a little under the weather.”
Soshiro put his palm on your forehead, scowling at the temperature. “Put your arm over my shoulder. I’m taking you to your room.”
“I’m okay—”
“That’s an order.”
You didn’t have much else to say to that. The short journey to your room was spent trying to power through the nausea pulling at your stomach and the embarrassment flooding your face; Soshiro should not be seeing you like this. Your condition was making you walk far too slow for your liking but you didn’t dare stress your upset stomach. If only you could get to your room faster, hide away from his penetrative gaze, but your energy was somewhere far away from your physical body. With every step you worried you’d trip.
“Why didn’t you call in sick?” Soshiro asked.
“While everyone else is doing work?” You had to admit, the others’ resolve was a little infectious. Kafka’s motivational speeches and Shinomiya’s natural talent had given you something to strive for. If a man with absolutely no battle prowess could persevere, then your silly little cold didn’t seem like much of an excuse.
“Rest is important.” He replied.
You wiped the sweat from your forehead, “don’t pretend you don’t sneak out for late night practice.”
Soshiro stopped at your room. “I’m not running a fever,” he pushed open the door. It wasn’t far to your bed, thankfully, and you slouched onto it like a shameless drunk. Your shaky arms could hardly hold you upright but at least you could catch a few wheezy breaths. Soshiro’s hand was on your forehead again, occasionally dipping down to your cheeks and neck while he looked over your pale skin. Your struggling breaths were only break in the otherwise quiet room.
“I just need some sleep,” you tried, “I’ll take a nap and be back in a couple of hours.”
“A nap isn’t going to get rid of that fever.” He sang. Before you could say anything he’d already gone towards the bathroom. It gave you time to try and calm your heartrate. The one-man-army that was Soshiro was tending to your sniffles with the same xx he had against kaiju. As if your germs were evil little kaiju themselves. He came back, damp washcloth in hand, and sat on your flimsy, creaky single cot. “Lay back,” he said, hand rising to push at your sternum. Much to your dismay, you gave in under the slightest pressure. Not that there was anyway of fighting him off, anyhow.
“Soshiro—”
“Do I need to pin you down?”
That got your attention. “N-No.”
You couldn’t ignore the heaven that spread across your skin when he placed the washcloth to your sweltering skin. Finally, after suppressing the coughs, sweltering away in your combat suit all morning, and fighting off the dizziness and chills, you let yourself relax. A belly-deep sigh left you in a long rush. If your eyes weren’t covered, you see Soshiro smiling faintly. Genuinely.
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the-travelling-witch · 7 months
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𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐋
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summary: a siren attack is already unfortunate, but it's worse if it also reveals some truths about your insufferable crew mate
pairing: pirate! hawks x gn! pirate! reader
warnings: just a silly drabble to get back into writing and exorcise some of my hawks brainrot; a little suggestive at the end
general masterlist || bnha masterlist
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Getting stuck on the same ship as Takami Keigo was one of life’s most torturous challenges. At least for you. He was obnoxiously arrogant and, much to your chagrin, people flocked to him like seagulls to a forgotten loaf of bread. 
Sure, your fellow pirate was quite easy on the eyes and rather charming when he wanted to be;  a truth you would only ever admit in the comfort of your own head, lest you inflate his ego even further. Instead, you rather grumbled to yourself, cursing his name for getting to sit pretty in the crow’s nest while you sat on deck and mended a torn net.
“Having fun down there?” If the devil ever spoke to you, you were sure he would mimic the grating lilt of Keigo’s melodic voice. “You know, I’m pretty sure a whale could swim through the holes you’re leaving.”
He was your crew mate, he was an essential part of the expedition, you couldn’t just shoot him down. 
“At least one of us is doing their job,” you deadpanned, not even giving him the satisfaction to look up. “You know, I think an island could sneak up on us with how distracted you are.”
“Oh you think you’re distracting me?” Even with your eyes trained on the cords in your hands, you could picture the cocky tilt of his head, a dashing grin playing around his lips. “Is that the kind of effect you want to have on me?”
“You’re the one who’s always coming up to bother me, so if anything you’re the one who’s obsessed with me.” If this conversation went on for any longer, your medic would have to patch up a popped vein on your part.
“Ah there is that wishful thinking again,” he laughed and this time you glared up at his silhouette standing out against the blinding sun. As always, he wore loose beige pants and the top buttons of his black shirt were undone, showing more of his toned chest than you needed to see. His black boots were propped up against the nest’s railing and the crimson head scarf fluttering in the breeze matched the earring dangling from his left lobe.
Just as you were about to retort, another shadow against the sun caught your attention. Drawing your pistol, you undid the safety, alerting the rest of the crew that there was something coming.
But before you could see what exactly was approaching, you suddenly lost your balance as the ship developed a heavy list. Grabbing onto the mast of the crow’s nest, you managed to steady yourself, yet the impact knocked the revolver from your grip. As you looked up, the first thing you saw was the massive cliffs your ship was heading towards, sharp rocks littering the waters, waiting to demolish its wooden bottom. 
Then your eyes locked on to the crew’s navigator, whose head lulled from one side to the other as he firmly steered you towards your demise. Next to him, holding his attention, was a beautiful woman sweetly tracing a finger along his jaw as she sang to him. As a feather drifted past your eyes, it suddenly hit you what -or who- exactly you were dealing with.
“Cover your ears!” You shouted to no one in particular as you scrambled for the wax you had stuffed into your pocket. With your hearing muffled, your own heartbeat raced in your ears as you dove for your pistol and breathlessly aimed for the siren attached to your navigator, who by now was half way towards the ship’s railing, his feet dragging underneath him as the woman lured him further towards the water.
You weren’t sure if your bullet was enough to actually kill the siren but upon impact it dissolved into a burst of feathers and released its hold on your crew mate, who dazedly blinked as he tried to regain his senses.
The next few minutes were a blur of talons, feathers and pulling your crew back from the ship’s edge, even tying some of them to the masts to make sure they wouldn’t try to kill themselves again.
Soon enough, however, you were out of bullets and you reluctantly drew the dagger previously secured to your thigh, scanning the area for more sirens when someone tapped your shoulder. Whirling around you slashed your dagger in an arc around you, only to find Keigo standing in front of you, holding up his hands innocently. There was an easy going smile on his face as he said something you couldn’t understand, so you removed one of the wax beads restricting your hearing.
And that was your mistake.
Only a few heartbeats after his velvety voice reached your ears, your dagger clattered onto the deck as Keigo reached out to unplug your other ear as well, his fingers grazing your cheek with nails much sharper than you expected. You wondered if his lips would be as plush as you imagined them to be or if his hair would be as soft as it looked when you buried your fingers in it.
His amber eyes were trained entirely on you as he gave you a coy gaze, inviting you to take another step towards him, to find out for yourself, to sate your curiosity. Likewise, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him either as your feet followed his graceful movements, the light reflecting of his golden hair like a halo, the crimson wings on his back completing his angelic appearance—
Then, Keigo dissolved into a burst of those same scarlet feathers as two sharp swords sliced through his torso. For a moment, you thought you had imagined it when the same face came back into view again.
With full force, the noise of the ship reached you again and you staggered backwards at the sudden onslaught of stimuli. Around you, the crew was running around, untying people and frantically steering the ship back onto the right course as you raced to regain your bearings, disoriented by the orders being bellowed around you.
“That should be the last of them,” Keigo ripped you from your daze, his voice clearer as the sea as he sheathed his swords again. “Nasty creatures, those sirens. Though I guess this one was a handsome fellow, considering you were dazedly mumbling my name on your way overboard.”
Your lips pressed into a thin line when your brain caught up to your current situation. Perhaps the siren had been taken care off, yet you were still tempted to throw yourself head first over the railing. Justifiably so, you thought when your eyes darted to the man’s face long enough to confirm the self-satisfied expression he was wearing.
“I am quite flattered really,” he mused, one hand reaching out to tilt your face up so you’d meet his eyes as he stepped closer to you. For a split-second, the thought that it was still a siren in front of you crossed your mind. “To think that a siren would choose to wear my face in an effort to seduce you… now isn’t that quite the compliment?”
“Just… shut up and let me die in peace, would you?” You rolled your eyes, ready to retreat into your little cabin and try to grapple with your near-death experience, this confrontation included. If only the rocky spikes had ripped open the bottom of the ship, you could sink to the sea floor in quiet solitude.
“No no no, why would you do that when you can stay right here with me? C’mon just see it as my reward for saving your precious life, treasure.” He sent you a cheeky wink, drawing your attention to the sharp slant of his eyes and your heart, the treacherous thing, skipped a beat. 
“Is your idea of a reward torturing me further? Or what could you possibly get out of this?” Your shoulders sacked with your sigh, resigning to your defeat. 
“What I’m getting out of this? It’s quite obvious isn’t it?” Slinging an arm around your hanging shoulders, Keigo pulled you flush to his side. Warmth and the scent of salt mixed with something woodsy radiated off of him and you could admit this wasn’t the worst position to be in. “Believe it or not, I do enjoy your company.”
“That is hard to believe, you’re right.” You cocked your head in suspicion. “Normally you do everything to get under my skin, so what changed?”
“Hmm, I wonder why that is,” Keigo’s melodic timbre lilted before transitioning into his typical pearly laughter. Then, as if sharing a secret, he leant down so his lips were dangerously close to your ear, his voice dropping low. “You know, you weren’t the only one visited by a siren. As tempting as that version of you looked, I must say I prefer the real deal.
“Do you think I could get you to sing for me as well?”
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feyhunter78 · 7 months
Note
I just found your page and I totally didn’t read all of your Miguel O’Hara fics. One I love how you write kissing you caught that spark off a kiss with someone you love in a way most books don’t get right.
I can’t sit here and sing your praise all day but I do have a question. Fully up to you and if it’s just a Drabble that ok but will you ever being writing something else for Side walk kisses? It’s so cute and I can see more moments with Miguel and Y/N just being silly cute mindless college students so helplessly in love. Fluff smut angst whatever you decide to Drabble in I will be fully ok with
(This is the first time I’ve done an ask so sorry I I seem a little over excited)
AHHH I love when I'm people's first asks, it always makes me feel so special!!! I thought I'd try my hand at a bit of angst for you anon!
Insecurities
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You know you shouldn’t be jealous. Shouldn’t feel bad about yourself, shouldn’t be debating making up some excuse and dashing off to the humanities building to rid yourself of this pit in your stomach like a snake sheds its skin.
But that would require leaving Miguel alone with Xina, and you think you’d rather die than do that. So, you’re stuck in the courtyard right outside the library, holding onto Miguel’s bicep possessively as you struggle to keep up with the flow of conversation.
Now you wouldn’t say you’re an insecure person, sure you have your insecurities like everyone else, but they don’t plague your mind, or weigh heavily on you as you go about your day-to-day business. Right now, though? As you take in Xina, her long thick dark hair, her stunning almond eyes that sparkle with intelligence, the flawlessness of her skin, the way she so easily keeps up with Miguel as they discuss the intersection between genetics and robotics, you’re feeling pretty insecure.
“That’s exactly what I was thinking, when making your calculations you have to factor in the deficiencies in the code, just as you have to factor in potential genetic flaws.” Xina says, a smile tugging at the edge of her lips, excitement clear on her face.
“Of course, with genetics it’s harder to eradicate flaws than in code, but I could see it following a similar pattern.” Miguel responds, nodding at her words.
You’re so lost. If they wanted to discuss the intricacies of the English language or the way philosophers can so heavily affect the development of a nation’s culture you would be there, front row and ready, but science? Science is not your forte.
Xina laughs and smacks Miguel’s arm, pulling you out of your thoughts, Miguel is laughing too so you do the same which draws her attention to you.
“Oh, y/n, I’m so sorry, we’ve been so rude, what do you think?” She asks, and you can’t tell if she’s genuinely curious, or just hates you.
You stumble for a moment, then say, “I agree with Miguel.”
She laughs again. “You think Charles Darwin would be a good computer programmer?”
Miguel joins in, and for the first time ever his laughter sounds sour to your ears.
“Oh, um, no, I just—”
Xina smiles sympathetically at you, but it feels a bit patronizing. “It’s okay, not everyone can keep up with us.”
Okay, maybe running and hiding was a good idea.
“Y/N is actually top of her sorority for GPA, she’s read more books than anyone else I know, and she helps me write all my lab reports.” Miguel jumps in.
“That’s so cute.” Xina coos, looking at you as if you were a kindergartener presenting her with a crayon scribbled drawing.
You give her a tight smile, then squeeze Miguel’s bicep. “Hey, I’m gonna head to class, but I’ll see you later?”
He nods, and lets you go, reabsorbed in his conversation with Xina.
You toy with the bracelet Miguel got you as you sit at your desk, waiting for class to start. It’s a pretty thing, a birthday present, simple and elegant, highlighting your birthstone, the words, mi dulce, engraved on the inside in a small, flowy script. It jingles pleasantly as you mess with it, and glints under the florescent lights.
“The professor isn’t here yet, right?” Kelsey slides into her desk next to you and starts unpacking her bag.
“No, he’s running a little late.” You say, absentmindedly shading one corner of the blank page in your notebook with your pencil.
“Okay, good because I have something kinda fucked up to show you.” She says, pulling out her phone and scrolling until she finds what she’s looking for.
You lean towards her, the thought of gossip perking you up a bit.
“So, you know that Ava girl, the bitch who used to date your man?”
“I wish I didn’t, but yes.” You grumble, feeling that familiar gloom settle back over you.
“Okay well she’s been trying to get with this Kappa Sig, and you know how the brothers are like obsessed with me because my brother is their president and an absolute legend as they always remind me.”
“Yeah, it’s the reason we got into their parties freshman year.”
Kelsey’s brother was a decent guy, all things considered. Older than you two by a year or so, with the charisma of a cult leader but lacking the desire to start a cult. Throughly satisfied with his fraternity and the Fortune 500 company he’ll go on to work at once he graduates. He was nice enough, extending his protection to you and anyone else close to his sister while in the Kappa Sig house.
“So, one of them texted me about her trying to sleep her way through the frat, but then, my brother sent me this video. I gotta warn you, it’s not school appropriate.” She says as she slowly turns the screen towards you.
At first, you recoil. It’s Ava, half naked, and some guy, on a bed that looks vaguely familiar. The guy’s face is out of the frame, but he’s shirtless, his pants pushed down exposing his dick to the camera, Ava’s hand wrapped around it pumping furiously. “Um, what the fuck is this?”
“Just wait.” Kelsey says quietly, glancing around the room to make sure no one else is watching. They’re not, they’re too busy with their own phones or side conversations.
You half watch the video, feeling weird about watching, your idea of a good time isn’t watching your boyfriend’s psycho ex jack some guy off.
The guy finishes, his hips bucking and Ava saying something you can’t hear since Kelsey’s sound is off.
The camera shakes as Ava picks it up and shows off the face of the man. Dark hair, glazed brown eyes with hints of crimson, perfectly formed lips parted. You know that face, but you don’t want to accept it.
“Is that Miguel?” You’re horrified, sick to your stomach, head spinning, every unpleasant feeling and sensation you could feel erupting all at once.
You can see Ava go to grab his face, guide him lower, moving to take off her underwear, and you turn your head, unable to watch any longer.
“I’m sorry, I don’t know when it was filmed, but Darren said he had one of the brothers send it to him yesterday then made all of them delete the video from their phones. He knows Miguel’s your boyfriend, said he was just looking out for you.” Kelsey puts away her phone and looks at you, eyes searching your face, before giving you a one-armed hug. “I’m so sorry y/n, I can ask him to see if he can find out when it was filmed?”
You want to cry, you really, really want to cry. “It looks recent, that’s Miguel’s bed, I’ve been there, I’ve slept on that bed, I—I can’t think about this right now. Thank you for telling me, and tell your brother I said thanks too.”
Kelsey nods and squeezes you tighter before letting go and giving you a sad smile.
The professor finally shows up, and you throw yourself into your notetaking, graphite digging into the pristine white paper as you try to drown out the images in your head with the sound of your professor droning on.
Part 2 here!!!
TL: @bat-bae, @nyctophilic0vitnir, @smokeywhalee, @obi-mom-kenobi, @prowlingforfood, @penggion, @crystal-crax, @oharasfilipinawife, @generalkenobitrash, @melsimps, @chrishy973, @farrowroyale, @palesatan, @scaryplanetdestroyer, @denzmallows, @36namey, @scoobysnakz, @ihateuguys, @idkbros-world @smartyren, @deputy-videogamer, @blackrose8425, @amberpanda99, @marshhbs, @queerponcho
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cinnaminsvga · 8 months
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🥀 | yoongi
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the sleep deprived series (n.): drabbles that i write when i’m sad and tired
→ vampire!yoongi ft. lots of miscommunication (all because newly-turned yoongi doesn't know how to talk to women lol) | 2.6K words → a/n: SURPRISE i am miraculously alive and well (?) back at it again with some weird monsterfucker propaganda... it's been months since i've written a fic so pardon the lacking quality but i Am Trying... also i added ghost!maknaeline bc i think they'd be cute... umm this might become a series if anyone is interested but i think it works as a standalone... enjoy!!!
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When Yoongi first agreed to being turned, he never imagined being so tired all the time. Even as a mortal, Yoongi had never been the most energetic soul. He preferred loafing around at home or reading a nice book by the fire. He rarely left his drafty villa, always isolated despite the nearby town. The most cardio he would ever do was when he’d take the few steps needed to get to his piano and play a few soft songs for the ghosts wandering down his halls.
He knew the neighbors liked to whisper about him, liked to refer to him as a local boogeyman to scare naughty children. “Beware the man who sold his soul to the devil,” they warned, though Yoongi supposes their silly rumors weren’t so far from the truth. Although, it was only a month ago that he did “sell his soul,” just not for the reasons that people might have expected.
Still, being a vampire was still very strange and new to Yoongi. He’d known about spirits and ghosts for as long as he can remember, but even he thought that creatures of the night were nothing more than an urban legend. All it took was one high-stakes game of cards and an empty promise to pay back a debt for Yoongi to realize that it probably isn’t smart to make deals with ghoulish-looking men in strange clothing in the first place.
It wasn’t all bad, save for the never-ending fatigue and deathly pallor to his skin. He was still Yoongi, just… worse, if you will.
For safety’s sake, he hadn’t told anyone about it. He was a bit embarrassed, to be honest. If his brother found out, he’d surely get an earful (or a stake through his heart, though Yoongi hopes his Seokjin hyung would remember all the good times they had together). Most importantly, he could absolutely NEVER tell you about his turning. That would be absolutely humiliating.
You were a witch doctor he had met just a few weeks prior to his turning. You had just moved into his sleepy town as a “pharmacist” who could “magically” make any ailment disappear. You had decided to move there on a whim after being exhausted from the high-paced nature of the big city.
You had spotted a small line of ghosts trailing after him on the night you had moved in. He had been on the way to the convenience store for a caffeine fix, and you had been on the way there to grab a couple of toiletries you had forgotten to pack.
You were so sweet, shyly approaching him under the guise of asking him if he could reach for a snack on a high shelf. But he could see your worried gaze fixed on the three spectral children climbing on his back, though he did nothing to shoo them away. After all, they had no mass, so as long as they didn’t lick his neck or something weird, he was fine with letting them be menaces.
When he had his back turned away from you to grab your snack, he could hear you quietly telling the ghosts to get off of him. They only laughed in response, their giggles always sounding a little muffled and distorted.
Yoongi plucked the bag of chips from the shelf and turned back to you, catching a glimpse of your annoyed expression before you could school it back into something more neutral.
“Is something the matter?” Yoongi asked smoothly, handing you the bag. He amusedly watched as your brows furrowed, not even hiding that you were glaring pointedly at the little gremlins making faces at you from his shoulder.
Jungkook, the youngest of the three ghosts, climbed on Yoongi’s head before proceeding to pull down his pants, mooning you with his spectral ass.
“Uh, nothing,” you eventually said, huffing indignantly as you stomped away. Yoongi caught you discreetly poking your tongue out in annoyance before you turned to another aisle.
Thus began your cautious attempts at exorcising him without trying to “alert” him to it. It was amusing to watch you try to “save” him from the three little ghosts that decided to cling onto him, and it was even more amusing to watch you fail repeatedly every time.
Yoongi made no comment when you were suddenly bumping into him everywhere he went. There was always a terse grin on your face as you performed as many anti-ghost spells as you could, but none of them ever seemed to work. The truth was, ghosts could only be exorcised if the haunted person in question wanted them to leave, but Yoongi had found himself a little fond of these stupid little kids. They might be slowly sucking the life force out of him, but Yoongi didn’t really care. They were just kids, and he’s always been too soft for his own good.
Your many encounters with him created a subtle friendship of sorts, one that Yoongi found himself enjoying. He was never been one to foster friendships with living beings, but perhaps your sweet attempts to save his soul might have defrosted his little grinch heart. But he wouldn’t ever tell you that, of course.
Plus, it didn’t hurt that you were very pretty, for that matter. He certainly would NEVER tell you that as well.
Was he feeling guilty for not telling you about his ability to see ghosts? Slightly. But was it cute watching you trying to outsmart three little ghost babies to no avail? Very much so.
So, Yoongi stayed quiet and enjoyed your company, even if you had no idea who he was or what type of things he was capable of.
That was until he got into that damn bet with the stupid bloodsucker.
Probably shouldn’t call him that, given that I’ve become one myself, Yoongi groaned internally. He’d been hiding in his house for a month now, and your “random” visits were surely on the horizon. He wasn’t sure if you’d immediately clock that he’d turned into a vampire, but he wasn’t going to risk it. If you found out, then you’d find out about everything, and that wouldn’t be a good impression.
Yoongi knew he wasn’t great at interacting with people, let alone people he had a crush on. But at least he knew that lying to someone for extended periods of time was probably not in his favor.
Little Jungkook fluttered close to him, his smoky form twinkling from the moonlight streaming through the living room windows. “When is the pretty witch coming to visit?” he asked, a little forlorn. Among the three ghosts, Jungkook was the one who’d grown attached to you the most. “I miss playing with her…”
Yoongi sighed, rubbing his face. “Hopefully never,” he responded, voice muffled by his hands. He peered through his fingers and saw the two other kids floating by his doorway.
Jimin, the older twin, nudged Taehyung forward to speak. “Y-Yoongi… I think she’s coming soon,” Taehyung whispered, a tinge of excitement evident in his tone.
“You can’t keep hiding from her forever… She's sure to find out anyway,” Jimin warned, uncharacteristically stern.
Yoongi stretched his tired limbs, his aching back cracking as he pushed himself off his sofa. Time moved weirdly ever since he turned into a vampire. This month had felt like a day, so it was hard to tell how long he'd been sitting so still. His creaking bones gave him an idea though, that's for sure. “I know… how much do I have to bribe you three to scare her away?”
Jungkook giggled, floating over to sit on Yoongi’s shoulder. “Nothing. We do that all the time for free,” he snickered.
Taehyung nodded in agreement. “It’s true… but she never seems to go away even when we do.”
“In fact, I know she thinks we’re cute,” Jimin said, and Yoongi couldn’t help but agree. Your cat and mouse game with the three idiots was probably past the point of annoyance and more towards the territory of playfulness. You likely noticed how they weren’t exactly the malicious ghosts that people feared, so you humored their antics.
(Yoongi hoped that you stuck around for him, too.)
“How much longer ’til she gets here?” Yoongi asked, walking to his bedroom. The air was stale inside the room, not having to use the bed as much as he once did. He opened his closet, trying to find some better-looking clothes than the threadbare robe he had decided to live in. He plucked a nice button-up shirt, before thinking better of it.
Am I really going to look like a stereotypical vampire when I meet her? What’s next, a cape?
“She’s a few blocks away,” Taehyung responded. The ghost paused, looking at the shirt Yoongi had put back. “No, wear that. She likes it when you wear that shirt.”
“She thinks you look regal in it,” Jimin agreed, grabbing his only pair of slacks. “These, too. She likes your butt in them.”
If Yoongi were still human, he’d probably blush. “I told you boys it’s rude to eavesdrop on her thoughts,” he scolded.
“You like the reassurance, though…” Jungkook muttered, but Yoongi ignored him.
“Two minutes away…!” Taehyung reminded him before disappearing. The two others followed suit, likely going to meet you before you arrived. Yoongi sighed, a headache slowly forming by his temple.
As promised, after two minutes, there was a knock from his front door. As Yoongi reluctantly approached and reached for the doorknob, he could hear you arguing playfully with his little friends.
“Taehyung, no pulling! I just got my hair fixed,” you whined. Despite your words, Yoongi could hear the affection in your voice, plain as day.
“You look really pretty today, noona…” Jungkook giggled, and Yoongi could imagine Jungkook placing a chaste kiss on your cheek in greeting. “Are you finally gonna tell hyung about your crush on him?”
“What are you talking about?!” you yelped. Yoongi heard something fall, then a string of curses from you. “Oh gosh, the food! I hope nothing spilled…”
“Don’t worry, noona. I doubt Yoongi hyung is hungry,” Jimin giggled slyly. “Unless you count how he’s hungry for you…”
Before you could reply to Jimin’s out-of-pocket comment, Yoongi swung open the door, an alarmed expression on his face. “H-hey, Y/N,” he began, a little awkwardly. He cleared his throat, trying to appear as if he hadn’t heard anything at all. “What do I owe this pleasure?”
You froze when Yoongi suddenly appeared. You were in the midst of rearranging the plastic bags of take-out food with your jaw agape, likely about to chastise Jimin for his rudeness. You floundered for a second before straightening up quickly. Your cheeks were a cute shade of red.
(Yeah, maybe he was a little hungry…)
“Yoongi! Oh god, sorry, I was just…” you stumbled for a moment, trying to figure out a way to explain yourself. Behind you, the three stooges grinned evilly, full of satisfaction.
“Do you need help?” Yoongi asked instead, bending down to gather your bags. The smell of take-out Chinese wafted into his nose, and he had to hide his growing smile. His favorite food, you had remembered. If he could eat, he’d be salivating.
“Yoongi hyung is salivating for a different reason…” Taehyung muttered, reading his thoughts. Yoongi and your eyes widened in alarm, causing the three kids to guffaw in response.
“Sorry, I was on the phone with somebody and the bags slipped,” you coughed, quickly grabbing the rest of the bags. In your haste, your hands accidentally touched, making you gasp in surprise.
“Gosh, Yoongi! Your hands are terribly cold! Are you alright…?” you asked, trailing off. When you tore your gaze away from his pale hand, you slowly turned to face him fully. Due to the uproar caused by the kids earlier, you hadn't been able to look at Yoongi properly since you arrived.
Yoongi braced himself, a terse smile on his lips.
You observed him silently, a mysterious emotion flitting through your face. Yoongi saw the way your gaze shifted to the injury on his neck, which he had recklessly forgotten to at least try to cover up. The dots were connecting, and Yoongi waited for you to make the first move.
To his surprise, you started by staring inquisitively at the kids. “Did you guys…?” you asked, suspicious. This was the first time you had openly addressed them in front of him, and Yoongi was shocked. Not only for that, but for also potentially thinking that they were to blame, somehow. Didn’t you trust them by now?
Jimin looked affronted, scoffing at your train of thought. “Us? Of course not! Why on earth would we do that to hyung?”
Jungkook huffed, wrapping an arm around your waist with a sad pout. “Yeah! Why would we hurt hyung on purpose? You don’t think we’d do that, right?” he asked, eyes watering with hurt tears.
Immediately, your expression softened. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…” you trailed off, sighing. As if remembering where you were, you snapped back to reality, staring incredulously at Yoongi as if he’d grown three heads. Well, or turned into a vampire, he supposed.
“Yoongi! What on earth happened?” you asked, terrified for him. Or perhaps, terrified of him? Yoongi knew he should be feeling guilty, or embarrassed, or maybe a little ashamed, but all he could see was your worry for him, and his dead little heart would have skipped a beat if it still could. God, he was pathetic.
Instead of answering you truthfully, Yoongi chose to run away from his problems, like he always did. “It’s just a mosquito bite,” he explained lamely. He rubbed the very conspicuous marks in question, wincing slightly. It might have been a month since he turned, but it still felt as tender as it did the day it happened.
You stared at him, unimpressed. “In the middle of winter? When you rarely step out of your house?” you asked sarcastically. You gave him a steely glare. “Be serious with me for a second, Yoongi.”
But Yoongi couldn’t. He couldn’t tell you, or else he’d literally die a second death, from embarrassment or heartbreak, he couldn’t tell.
“I… I don’t actually know,” Yoongi lied. It was sort of true. He didn’t know that the stupid bet would actually mean he’d give up his soul to pay for an impossible debt. He had been swindled, that was it. He still didn’t understand how he could’ve been so stupid.
“He didn’t know he was stupid… what a joke,” Jimin murmured, causing the others to giggle in turn. You and Yoongi ignored them.
When he didn’t explain further, your shoulders slumped, defeated. You likely didn’t believe him one bit, but you were never the type to push. You were probably as shy as he was, which had caused its fair share of misunderstandings in the past. Most of the time, those misunderstandings helped Yoongi, though he often wished that he didn’t need them. One day, he’d be honest with you, but for now…
“May I come in, Yoongi? There’s something I have to tell you…” you started, eyes shifting behind you. The kids hovered closer, watching you with curiosity.
Yoongi felt the air turn colder, though he wasn’t sure if it was just him, the wind, or the ghosts doing it. Or maybe it was you.
Yoongi opened the door wider, gesturing for you to come in. “Please, make yourself at home…” he whispered before closing the door gently.
Outside, the three boys didn’t make a move to come in.
“Now… we wait,” Jimin whispered. The other two nodded, faces determined. They floated to the second floor of Yoongi’s villa, still keeping their ears to the floor. As much as they wanted to interrupt, they knew this was an important development for the two of you. They wanted to give you a false sense of privacy, but they could never stop themselves from hearing the gossip. God knows that these rascals would be bored without their daily dose of real telenovela romance.
In the living room, Yoongi took a seat as far away from you on the couch as possible. He laced his hands with an iron grip, forcing himself to stop any fidgeting.
Breaking the silence, you sighed tiredly. “So… where do I begin?”
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landwriter · 1 year
Text
Desperate Measures | Dream/Hob | 1.2K | G v silly and fluffy, literally 90% air, dream attempts a romantic gesture, hob is a sap and forgetful, human au, part text fic
for @domaystic drabbles, Day 6: Under the Same Umbrella
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Dream woke up to 26 texts from Hob. He put on his glasses and began his morning read. It’d replaced Times for him. The editorial quality, he thought, was far superior.
Hob (7:19 am) heading out, gave you a wee forehead kiss and you didn’t even stir. sleeping bloody beauty. love you disgustingly much x
Hob (7:26 am) couldn’t find my umbrella anywhere can you take a look if it’s not too much of a bother? feel like i’ve gone mad
Hob (7:30 am) christ it’s bucketing down!! standing under the eaves just to tell you how much it’s bucketing down
plants will be happy at least so will my goth boyfriend ;) hope your writing goes well today love. extra atmosphere!!
Hob (8:42 am) nevermind don’t look for it remembered that i left it in my office told johanna she can use it since i’m at the archives all day anyway glad i’m not the only one who’d forget their own head if it wasn’t screwed on :) :) :)
Hob (10:11 am) you should’ve seen the look lisa gave me when i showed up had to dry myself off in the men’s w half a forest of paper towels there goes my carbon offset from walking i said christ you’re probably still in bed asleep warm dry!! lucky bastard
wish i could come back already and drip puddles all over you
Hob (10:37 am) if this keeps up i’m going to look like mr darcy in the rain on your doorstep tonight don’t worry i promise not to propose marriage while insulting you xx although i do love you most ardently
...elizabeth
Dream smiled, read them all again, contemplated, and then sent his reply.
Dream (11:01 am) Sir, I appreciate the struggle you have been through
Hob replied moments later.
?? you sound like a customer service agent wait you’re quoting the film you can’t reject me if i’ve not proposed to you!! yet!!!
Dream snorted. 'and I am very sorry I have caused you pain' went the line. They’d watched it last weekend. Hob had cried, and Dream had privately decided that if Hob proposed, he’d say yes. Even if it was poorly done. It wouldn’t be, though. Not if Hob was doing it. He sent a second text.
...and I am very sorry you were drenched by rain.
Then he got out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen. His phone buzzed anew as he made tea and toast. He smiled at the sound. On their first date, Hob had warned Dream that he had a bad habit of annoying boyfriends over text. Dream, on his first date in six years, had wondered what it might be like to be so effusively charming that you could have enough boyfriends to form habits around them at all. He hadn’t known what to say, and Hob had ducked his head, grimacing a little, and said, “Just tell me to piss off, please, if I do? I know I can be a bit much.”
Dream believed it, because the man was telling him about his habits with boyfriends after one date. Not that he minded. And three months in, Dream had yet to tell him to piss off.
Turns out, a bit much was exactly what he’d wanted. Needed, in truth. Someone to tether him to the real world. His phone had become a modern-day lodestone in his pocket, a comforting pull of Hob-ness that would always point him back to life whenever he’d emerge, blinking and disoriented, out of the mire of his work. Work that he loved - creating worlds out of nothing, writing stories that would change people - but, coming on the age of thirty with nothing to show for it but recurring wrist strain and an upmarket flat that never had any guests, work that had also made him spend so much time apart from the rest of humanity that he was sometimes unsure how to rejoin it.
The tipping point had been when his eldest sister had found out that he hadn’t spoken to anyone else in between two of their regular dinners. Which were monthly. It had been mortifying. She’d smiled sadly, which was excruciating enough, and then gotten the gleam of a plan in her eyes, which had been far worse. “I’m setting you up,” she’d said. “I know just the guy. We go way back. I think you’ll like him.”
He had. Now, when his phone buzzed, he found himself frowning if it wasn’t Hob. (An exceedingly rare occasion.) But this time it was, of course. Four short messages sent one after the other:
hahahaha ok fine that was v good enjoy your day x
Five hours later, not even the curtain of rain awaiting him outside could douse the anticipation in his belly. An idea, he knew, was a powerful thing. Dream didn’t have an umbrella - Hob always shared with him, and would’ve apologetically nicked his if he had - so he would make the first leg of the journey as Hob did. He intended to go and get something nice, but once in the cold downpour, his resolve failed him almost at once, and he ducked into the first shop that had umbrellas in the window.
“Hiya,” said the girl at the counter without looking up from her phone.
Dream ignored her, blinking the rain out of his eyes, belatedly registering all the merchandise had a unifying theme and that he’d made a terrible mistake, borne of sheer desperation.
“Would you happen to have any other umbrellas? In black?” he asked. Hidden behind the counter, perhaps. If only you knew to ask.
The girl looked at him with an air of disbelieving reproval only accessible to teenagers and the very elderly. “You could try Boots, you know. It’s just down the street.”
Dream looked out the window. Rain torrented down. Commuters hurried past with their sensibly coloured umbrellas. From places exactly like Boots.
“Or we’ve got rain ponchos,” she added. It sounded like a threat.
“Nevermind,” said Dream quickly. “I’ll take it.”
“Enjoy your visit in London, sir,” she called out as he left.
He stepped outside and flicked open the umbrella with slightly more force than necessary.
Dream waited a few paces outside the archives, wanting to surprise Hob properly. Two separate pairs of tourists had thought he was their London Ghost Tours guide, and he was beginning to regret not holding out for longer, drenching be damned. Then Hob emerged, striding out and immediately stopping to pull out his phone. He was smiling at it. Dream smiled too, in anticipation.
A moment later his own phone buzzed loudly in his coat pocket, and Hob looked up in surprise.
“Oh my god,” he said. Then he said it again.
“I heard you needed an umbrella,” said Dream. He’d had the line already, since he got the idea. It had been very dashing and romantic in his head. It was somewhat undermined by the dreadful costuming choice that had been forced upon him.
Hob looked between Dream and the umbrella, bafflement melting into a happy laugh. He ducked underneath, pecking Dream on the lips. “I’m not sure I needed one quite this badly. Did you rob some poor tourist?”
“Unhappily, I paid for this.”
“Oh no,” said Hob, pulling away and pretending to inspect him for injury. “My poor darling. Your dignity.”
Dream sniffed. “I will recover.”
“Here,” said Hob. “I’ll carry it for you. You’ll only be guilty by association, then.”
They began walking, a bobbing Union Jack in a sea of blacks and greys. After the chief sin of ugliness, it was also a little small for two grown men, but Dream found he didn’t resent that at all, as Hob tucked him tightly into his side to keep them both dry. People gave them a wide berth. Tourists could never be trusted with umbrellas.
“You’ve rescued me, you know,” said Hob, nuzzling into his cheek.
“It wouldn’t do to have you dripping puddles all over the floors,” said Dream.
“Even if I looked terribly handsome, all wet and ardent?”
Dream bit his lip and smiled a little. “Perhaps you can be wet and ardent in the shower. Instead.”
Hob laughed again. It was Dream’s favourite sound. “Much warmer than the rain anyway. Deal.” Rain drummed down on their private nylon ceiling. “I was thinking chicken tikka masala for dinner?”
And so they made their way home, and although the rain never let up, Dream was so content and warm that he might’ve sworn they were walking in the sun.
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loudstan · 4 months
Note
hiii i was wondering if you would be down to do a small drabble based on that part where soobin had managed to pull yn out of the circle but with a twist? taeyong did not manage to arrive in time causing him to take advantage of her? i mean, let's be honest she would probably allow it, it's soobin after all
joke's on you because I have wanted to write this for a long time! So let's do it right now!
Warnings: manipulative soobin, cheating, dubious, not a happy ending.
You let out an exhausted sigh.
“Soobin,” you said when his grasp on your arms tightened. “let me go.”
For a few seconds, he only stared back into your eyes. 
“No,” he finally murmured, sneaking his arms around your waist and pulling you even closer.
“I’m not in the mood for your jokes,” you warned him, squirming in his arms.
“Good, because I am not joking.”
“You can’t–”
“Can’t I?” he purred. With a rapid movement, he had you with your back pushed on the wet grass, hovering over you. “Silly little human,” he teased. “Look at the time.”
Your heart stopped when you noticed the faint moonlight illuminating the fae prince’s fair skin. It was way past dusk.
You gulped. “S-soobin, please–,” your voice broke when you felt his fingertips caress your face. “Don’t hurt m-me,” you begged.
“Hurt you?” he echoed. “You know that is not what I want,” he trailed off when his thumb made contact with your lower lip.
Realizing what he was referring to, you turned your head to the side, breaking free from his touch. “Don’t– Soobin, please, we’re friends!”
He grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look at him again. “Friends…,” he scoffed like you had just insulted him. “Do you let all your friends court you?”
“I never–When d-did I–” you stuttered.
Soobin raised his eyebrows. “For someone who is writing a book about faes, you know absolutely nothing about us,” he sighed, using his free hand to reach for one of the berries that were scattered on the grass. “These are the sweetest berries you can find. I picked them myself,” he said casually, placing it over your lips. “Did you think I kept bringing them  to you because I am a good neighbor?” 
You were about to reply that that was exactly what you thought when he pushed the small fruit past your lips. True to what he had said, it was incredibly sweet, but now that you were aware of the implications of his gift you knew you shouldn’t accept it. So you spit it out. 
His expression remained calm, but the slight twitch in his eye told you he didn’t appreciate the attitude you were giving him. He pretended he didn’t feel you squirming under him to get free, as he unhurriedly grabbed another fruit and offered it to you.
You kept your lips sealed and scratched his arms stubbornly. He was equally, if not more stubborn, and he kept trying to feed you no matter how hard you made it for him. 
“WHY?!” He finally snapped after the 10th wasted berry. “You have been enjoying my courting for weeks! Why refuse now?!”
You stilled at his outburst. You had never seen him lose composure like this. He was panting heavily on top of you, his brows furrowed in anger and confusion. He looked so…human.
“I have never met someone as insolent and infuriating as you!” he continued. “Do you not understand the position you are in?! I reign over the entire forest and every single creature that inhabits it. That includes you. I own you!”
“P-please–” you tried to speak but you started sobbing quietly.
“Shh…,” he tried to soothe you, immediately regretting the way he had spoken to you. What was it about you that kept making him lose his cool? “I apologize,” he whispered, resting his forehead on yours and wiping your tears away gently. “That was very uncivil of me. No more tears, Y/N, please,” he begged you. 
“Y-you have to let m-me go…,” you insisted.
He shook his head urgently. “No,” he whispered, kissing your tear-stained cheeks. “Anything but that.”
“But–...T-taeyong–” 
“Does not deserve you,” Soobin growled against your lips. “Keeps disappearing and leaving you all alone. He makes you sad, Y/N.”
“No–” your protest was interrupted by the prince’s soft lips pressed firmly against yours. He moved his lips softly, but his hand on your jaw held your head tightly. He took advantage of your surprised gasp to lick and taste every corner of your mouth, moaning at the realization that he was finally tasting you. And you tasted better than he imagined.
A loud noise took him out of his daze and he quickly lifted his head to search for the possible threat. The last thing he needed was alpha showing up. Not that he would give you up now that he had finally had a taste of you. 
But there was nobody out there. 
He tilted his head and then he felt a slight tingle on his left cheek. 
He turned to look at you and saw you holding your right hand and wincing. Your palm was reddened. 
His own hand reached for his cheek as his lips curled into a wicked smirk. You had slapped the fae prince. 
“Did you really think a weak human could harm an immortal?” he asked you incredulously. 
“I… I just w-wanted you to s-stop—”
“Do not lie to me,” he warned you.
“I’m not–”
“You know I can feel everything you feel,” he reminded you, caressing your face lovingly. “I can feel your guilt, your fear… but you do not feel repulsed by me.”
You tensed and blushed.
“And now you are embarrassed,” he continued, chuckling and kissing your neck. “Oh, you love it right here,” he sighed, nibbling on a spot of your neck that had you gasping. “You exude such intense desire when I do this…” he breathed out shakily.
“Soobin–...” you whined, trying to push him away by pulling his hair. “I r-really c-can’t…”
“Y/N…” he whispered, rutting his hips experimentally and savoring the pleasure that consumed your body. “I can feel how much you enjoy this. Let go…” he meant for it to be a command, but he was practically begging you.
He could easily feed off this for eternity. He planned to.
But you were being so unnecessarily difficult. He was giving you what your boyfriend refused to give you and you were enjoying it. So, why were you rejecting him? Because you felt guilty? Because you were confused? Because you loved that bastard?
He felt a pang of jealousy and decided to try a different approach.
“This is your f-fault, you know?” he continued, trying to keep his voice even as he rocked his hips and you gave him the cutest little noises in response. “You have been so miserable these days…all you have been feeding me are gloomy feelings,” he pouted.
“I–,” you breathed out, biting your lip when he pressed his hips against yours harder.
“I spent all my afternoons here with you,” he taunted. "All to help you write your book, but you only give me insipid negative energy in return…”
“I d-didn’t mean–…” 
“I’m starving, Y/N,” he growled, suddenly stilling and looking into your eyes. “You did this to me.”
You gasped for air and pressed your legs together, embarrassed at the stickiness between your legs. You were horny and embarrassed.
“I’m s-so sorry,” you whimpered.
“Then do something about it,” he commanded. “Feed me something appetizing.”
You gulped. “T-tomorrow–”
“Now.”
“I…I can’t just feel good out of n-nowhere,” you complained.
He scoffed. “Useless human. I have to do everything myself,” he muttered, unbuttoning your blouse and pretending to be annoyed.
“Soobin!” you objected grabbing his hands nervously. 
He glared at you. He wasn’t actually mad at you. He wanted to hug you and tell you that he didn’t think you were useless, that you were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen, and that he would take care of you better than your stupid boyfriend. He wanted to treat you gently. But right now he had to stay in character. You were so close to giving in.
“We had a deal, Y/N,” he reminded you.  He omitted that he had never specified what type of emotions you were supposed to give him in exchange for his help these past weeks. You had honored the deal by letting him feed off whatever you were feeling in those moments. 
But he was hoping you were too lust-drunk and remorseful to notice.
“I know,...I’m s-sorry,” you whispered as another tear slid down your face.
He fought back a victorious smirk. “I will make it good for you,” he promised, kissing your chest and caressing your trembling body. 
You felt terrible for not listening to your boyfriend when he told you to stay away from Soobin. You felt remorseful for taking so much time from Soobin without giving him anything in return. 
But what was worse was that you liked Soobin’s touch. How could you be such a terrible girlfriend?
“What you feel is natural, Y/N,” Soobin suddenly said, sensing your guilt. “You are loyal to a man who does not tend to your needs. Your body needs this,” he assured you, massaging your breasts gently.
You covered your face with your hands and Soobin chuckled.
“W-will you–,” you gulped nervously, feeling his lips traveling further down. “Will you l-let me go when you are satisfied?”
“Of course,” he mumbled, kissing your navel and making you shiver. 
He would let you go when he was satisfied. Which would be never.
“A-and I can go home after?” you asked while he pulled down your shorts
He paused and looked at your conflicted face. He kissed your thighs lovingly and, as usual, chose his words very carefully.
“You will go home,” he declared before diving in.
He never said whose home.
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ramblingoak · 10 months
Note
Hello! I apologize if you don’t take requests btw but if you do , do you think you can write head cannons of what the papas would do for their s/o with Covid when you can? <3(I totally didn’t js find out that I had Covid 😀) again super sorry if u don’t take requests!🖤
Hey! I hope you are feeling much much better. Apologies this took a bit to finish. I ended up getting Covid last week myself so clearly karma got me for taking too long xD. This did end up being more for readers that are just kind of sick in general but I hope you still enjoy the little drabble I did for each Papa 💙
Warnings: short and sweet, pretty fluffy and fairly silly, there are some suggestive comments but these are mostly sfw, readers are all gender neutral, not beta read so pls ignore any mistakes
Mayo Rub ~ Primo x GN!Reader
“Are you going to be grumpy about this the whole time I’m sick?”  Primo scoffed and continued to aggressively turn the pages in his gardening magazine.  “Well?”
“You are mistaken, I’m not grumpy about anything.”
“Then why are you pouting over pictures of tulips?”
“They’re not tuli–”  Primo stopped abruptly, roughly closing his magazine and getting up from the couch.  When he glanced over your way you raised an eyebrow at him.  “They’re lilies.”
“Fine, lilies.”  You took a moment to cough into your elbow, knowing that he was now frowning because it had been getting progressively worse as the day had worn on.  “But you admit that you’re pouting.”
“Why must you be so difficult?”  When you couldn’t answer right away due to another coughing fit he wandered over to the bed, wringing his hands with worry.  “Fogliolina, I’m only trying to help.”
He was ready with your bottle of water when you were able to look up, meeting his concerned gaze sheepishly.  With a shrug you took the bottle from him, taking a deep drink to try and soothe your throat before attempting to answer.
“The store bought stuff is working fine.”  You ignored his muttered ‘clearly’ and pressed on,  “Look I just don’t buy into the…you know.”  Primo raised his eyebrow as you wiggled the fingers of one hand in his direction.  “Plant magic.”
“It’s not magic, my little leaf.”  The unspoken ‘idiota’ hung between you but you decided to be gracious and ignore it.  “They are natural remedies that have been used for hundreds, no, thousands of years!”
“Fine.  If I let you work some of your plant magic will you stop pouting?”
“It’s not–”  He took a deep breath, blowing it slowly out through his nose before continuing.  “SÍ, I will stop pouting.”
“Alright then, have at it.”  Primo gave you a pleased smile before leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead.  He was frowning when he pulled away, bringing his hand up to press against the warm skin his lips just touched.  When he muttered something under his breath in Italian and turned away you grabbed at the sleeve of his sweater and tugged him back.  “Fogliolina?”
“Just promise not to rub mayonnaise or whatever on my chest.”
“Che cazzo?  Why wou–nevermind.”  
You had to bite your lip to stop from laughing at the impressively annoyed look on his face.  He took a deep breath before shooting you a look that usually either predicated a lecture or him demanding you remove your clothes.  Unfortunately you knew that right now it meant the former.  You decided to go easy on the man that was about to work his…whatever on you.
“I love you Primo.”
“As you should.”  The both of you shared a smile before he clapped his hands together and turned back to head out the bedroom door.  “Sit tight fogliolina, I’ll be back with the mayonnaise in just a few moments.”
Your laughter quickly brought on another coughing fit but you waved him away when he looked back at you.  
“Go!  Get your potions old man, I’ll still be here.”
“I’m going to make sure of it, my little leaf, don’t you worry.”
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Secret Ingredient ~ Secondo x GN!Reader
“Is it salt?”
You hid your face in the neck of the sweater you had borrowed.  The fabric was soft and warm, with the bonus of smelling like the man it belonged to.  Secondo let out an aggrieved sigh from where he was standing over the stove before turning around with an eyebrow raised.
“Salt?  Really?” 
“Fancy salt?”
“SÌ, the secret ingredient of the chicken noodle soup recipe passed down through my mother’s family for generations is fancy salt.”  He gave you a little smile when he caught you pouting.  “Would you like a taste, dolcezza?”
“Yes, please.” 
Secondo got a spoonful and blew on it as he walked over to the kitchen table.  He held it to your lips with great care, watching the expression on your face change as you tasted it.  When you gave him a pleased smile he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.
“You feel a little warm again, would you like to lay down?”
“No, no I’m fine.  I want to stay out here with you.”  That earned you another kiss before he turned and went back to the stove.  You licked the taste of the soup off your lips before taking another guess.  “Rosemary?”
“That’s not much of a secret, dolcezza.”
“Parsley?”
“Parsley is a necessity, certainly not l’ingrediente segreto.”  
“Ok fine, how about Primo’s parsley?”
Secondo chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled two bowls from a cupboard and started to fill them with the soup he’d labored over almost all afternoon.  You had been stuck between desperately wanting him close because you felt bad but also not wanting him to get sick.  When you’d tried to explain this he had gone on about some nonsense of the Emeritus line having strong constitutions and rarely becoming ill.  Whatever.  You’d remember his speech the next time he was whining over a cold.
“All of the ingredients are from Primo’s gardens, as you know.”  
He set your bowl down in front of you before taking a seat himself.  You let yourself get distracted for a bit looking at his exposed forearms.  It was one of the reasons you enjoyed watching him cook.  He’d roll up his sleeves and you’d get to daydream about his arms while he worked.  Your eyes finally looked up from staring at the dark hair covering his skin to find him smirking at you.  
“Get over yourself.”  He knocked his foot against yours under the table and you flashed him a smile before bringing a spoonful to your lips.  Like most everything he made it tasted amazing.  You let out a delighted little hum before taking another guess.  “Basil?”
“Again, not a secret.”
You frowned down at your bowl as you tried to think of what was so damn secret about his soup.  He had even refused to tell Copia earlier when he’d come by asking for the recipe.  It had to be something extremely uncommon for him to be so weird about it.  But he always got a little weird when he was making you something special, especially if it was an old recipe of his mother’s.  Secondo always took such great care when he recreated them, like he was pouring his love for his mother into them as he worked…oh.  You reached across the table and laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently when he looked at you.
“I love you too, Secondo.”
“What?”
“What do you mean ‘what’?”  When he didn’t elaborate you pulled your hand away and crossed your arms over your chest.  “The secret ingredient.  It’s love.”
“Love isn’t an ingredient.”
“Yes it is.”
“No dolcezza, it isn’t.”
“I bet your mother would agree with me.”
Secondo snorted, rolling his eyes as he moved his chair closer to yours.  It was close enough he could wrap an arm around your shoulders and tuck you close to his side.  After placing a few kisses into your hair he pulled away and cupped your cheek.
“I have no doubt that if my mother was still here you and her would run circles around me.”
“Just admit it.  I promise I won’t tell anyone.”  When he didn’t say anything you grinned, his silence was all the confirmation you needed.  “It’s love.”
“It’s paprika.”
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Satan Magic ~ Terzo x GN!Reader
“You shouldn’t be here.”
Terzo groaned, muttering under his breath as he pulled you closer to his chest.
“This is my church I can be wherever I want.”
“Oh your church, huh?”  You dug an elbow into his gut, grinning when he swore in Italian.  “Besides, you know what I mean.”
“SÌ, sÌ.  I know.”  He shoved a leg in between yours and rubbed his cold foot along your skin, holding you tighter when you tried to wiggle away.  “Ai!  Quit it, I'm trying to help.”
“How are your freakishly cold feet supposed to help me?”
“You have to warm them up first.”
“Satan’s dick, Terzo.”  A fit of coughing came over you then and you tried to ignore how nice it was to have Terzo’s hand rubbing your back as your body shook.  It took you a moment to catch your breath and you sniffled as you shamelessly pressed back against his warm chest.  “I don’t want you to get sick.”
“How many times must I say this?  I don’t get sick.”  
“I seem to remember a few days last year that you were definitely sick and whining in this bed just like me.”
“Those were allergies and completely different.”
“Whatever you say Papa.”
His chest vibrated against your back when he groaned.
“Don’t talk like that right now, it’s not fair.”  You giggled as you pushed back against him, trying to get as close as possible.  He was so warm, it was exactly what you needed right now.  Terzo tightened his arms around your waist for a moment before pressing his lips against your ear.  “Would you like to hear a secret?”
“Always.”  
“It’s because I’m a Papa that I don’t get sick.”
You frowned, turning your head to the side to look at him as best you could.
“What?”
“My family line has been blessed by Lucifer himself.  It is not often that an Emeritus falls ill.”
“But he’ll let you suffer through allerg–hey!”  
He got another elbow in the gut after he pinched your hip and you both wrestled a bit under the blankets.  Terzo managed to turn you so that your chests were pressed together and you took advantage of the new position to tuck your face into his neck.  Your nose was severely stuffed up but you could still smell his cologne and it was so good you let your body go limp in his arms.
“Don’t worry about me, eh?  I want to be close to you, to take care of you.”
“Alright, fine.  I just hope your Satan magic protects you from this.”
Terzo snorted and started to card his fingers through your hair.  It didn’t take long before the soothing movement helped you begin to drift off.  You felt his lips against your temple and you smiled, opening your eyes to meet his gaze.
It was unfortunate that it was the exact moment he sneezed into your face.
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Stolen Soup ~ Copia x GN!Reader
Copia always got a little anxious when you were sick. 
It was part hating that you felt bad at all and also part him not wanting to catch what you had.  He hated getting sick and was always the worst patient.  In contrast you generally preferred to be left alone.  All you wanted to do was sleep and unfortunately you just found yourself getting irritated when Copia kept bugging you. 
“Copia I’m fine!  I just want to sleep.”  Oh here we go, the pout.  You groaned, rolling your eyes as you fell back onto the pillows.  “You’ve got better things to do anyway.”
“The only thing I need to do right now is take care of you.”  He had that stubborn look on his face, the one he gave Imperator when it was time to ask for a bigger costume budget.  “Amore, please?  Let me make sure you’re going to be alright.  Would you do this for your Papa?”
You could never win in a battle against that dopey look on his face so you just huffed and nodded your head.  His dazzling smile would be worth listening to him gloat later when he claimed it was only through his care you survived at all.  Copia began to hum to himself as he grabbed the big tote bag he came in with, quickly pulling things out and setting them at the foot of the bed. 
“What’s all this?”
“Ah, well I stopped by Primo’s for some salve to rub on your chest,”  You snorted when he wiggled his eyebrows at you.  “He also gave me some tea that will help your throat.  Secondo had some of his homemade soup in his fridge so I brought that as well.”
“Does Secondo know you took his soup?”  
“I left a note, he’ll get over it.”  
There was definitely no way Secondo would get over it but you decided to let it go.  When Copia started pulling some books out you sat up again and reached out for one. 
“I don’t think I have the energy to read right now.”  You ran your fingers over the worn cover of the book, flipping it open and seeing a short passage written in Italian on the first page.  “What does this say?”
“It’s a note to Terzo.”  Copia walked around the bed and gently took the book from you.  “From his mother.”
“Oh, Copia, maybe you should take it back.  I don't want anything to happen to it.”
“No no, this is what the book is for.  Sick days.”  He gave you a warm smile, leaning forward and kissing your forehead.  He was frowning when he pulled away, muttering something about taking your temperature.  “Terzo’s mother read this to him when he was a child and then Terzo used to read this to me.”
“So now it’s my turn?”
He looked over at you with a fond smile, his hands full of remedies and stolen soup. 
“Si amore, now it’s your turn.”
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My Masterlist
My Archive of Our Own
Thank you to @gothdaddyissues for the dividers and @foxybouquet with the Italian help 💙
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