#quick little drabble

[mirainwonderland]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Thinking about RE4R Leon staring.

Just staring at you and appreciating his girl. Her curves and her hair and her little smile while she’s enjoying herself, perfectly unaware that he’s so entranced with her and that he can’t believe this fucked up life was kind enough to give him you. If there’s any emotion on his face it’s subtle. But in his head he’s going a million miles a minute about alllll the fucking things he wants to do to you.

When you notice him staring, you’re so unaware of the dirty thoughts that swirl around in his brain. You smile that sweet smile at him, noticing he’s slightly zoned out and his brain somewhere else. You poke his nose or pinch his cheek or ruffle his hair and go,

“Where’s your head?”

In the gutter.

But of course he can’t tell you that. He’ll probably show you later.

Nah fuck it. He’ll show you right now.

He grabs your chin and kisses you out of the blue, wondering what you’d taste like with a different flavor than that strawberry icecream on your lips.

He’s got to mentally slap himself before he gets carried away.

He slips in a little bit of tongue before he pulls away, biting your lip and leaving you a little bit stunned and flustered, blushing to the tips of your ears.

“What was that for?” Your voice cracks a little, clearing your throat when it comes out raspy. Icecream forgotten.

He takes the spoon and the half-eaten bowl out of your hands and leaves it on the table, taking your hand.

“Come with me and I’ll show you.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ━━━━⊱༒︎ • ༒︎⊰━━━━ ⋆⁺₊⋆

[philcoulson-redtapeninja]

Wip Wednesday| Based on the prompt, “Do you even know what this means?” from Fictober 2023 X X X X X X X

Aw hell, Don was going to have to explain the CIA's harebrained idea. "They want to super charge the laser and put it space." Jesus, the concept got more ridiculous the more he said it, but Don needed to stay on task, he wasn't getting through to Jerry. "Their money has strings, Jer. Do you even know what this means?" "And how much are they willing to give us for the additional requirements?" Hathaway drawled, mock patient, like he was talking to a particularly stupid student. The condescending asshole. "For the research budget? Does it look like I have the exact numbers here?" Why were they still talking about this, anyway? Don waved his hand dismissively, "About double." Jerry's hands paused mid-shuffle of paper, and Don didn't like the greedy look in the professor's eye. More urgently, Don added,"You can't pull your usual shit here, Jer!" The bastard had the gall to roll his eyes at Don! Turning to flip through some papers. How was the [self-proclaimed genius?know-it-all] unable grasp the severity of the situation?

[slowandsteddie]

The One Where Steve Harrington Dies

Here's something I started awhile ago. I'm not sure how to expand on it, or if I even want to. However, I'm trying to clean out my drafts and I don't want to just throw it in the trash.

Which means that we are here now.

CW: The title pretty much covers it. The death isn’t “fully” described, but. Yano, gotta cover those bases.

396 words.

Steve took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and squared his shoulders.

Okay.

He could do this.

He looked back to El, whose nose was bleeding profusely.  She was being propped up between Mike and Will.  Lucas and Max were off with Nancy and Robin, trying to see if they could find any weaknesses to exploit.

They were all going to die if he didn’t do something.

He had to do something.

“Eddie,” he said suddenly.  He turned his head to look at his boyfriend of three months and said something he hadn’t said before.  “I love you.”

“I— Steve.  No.  Whatever you’re thinking, don’t do it.”  Eddie’s eyes were so wide, so brown, and so full of tears.  He tried to close the distance between them.

Steve let out a watery laugh.  “I love you, Big Boy,” he returned that phrase that was normally directed toward him.  “Don’t let any of our shitheads follow me, because I’ll never forgive you if anything happens to any of them.”

He ran.  As fast as he could.  He couldn’t let this drag out and give him a chance to realize how horrible of a decision he was making.

He slammed into Vecna/Henry/One, whatever you wanted to call him.  And the full brunt of his weight was what it took to send that monster back into the Upside Down.

Steve fell in with him and the gate closed behind him with a finality that he tried to not let get to him.

Trapped.  One the wrong side.  With a male who wanted nothing but death and pain.

The world was crumbling beneath his feet.

“You fucking idiot!”  Vecna shrieked.  “You’ve ruined everything!”

“What, you can’t connect to and destroy my world now?”

Steve dropped to his knees when the ground shifted beneath him.  He knew that he was going to die.  And he was okay with that.  Because his friends were okay.

Eddie was okay.

They’d live, they’d move on, they’d be okay.

There was the screeching of bats in the distance and vines wrapped around him and he didn’t fight it.

Things were falling now.  Trees, buildings, the ground.

He choked.  He closed his eyes and pictured Eddie’s face.  Tried to let it be the only thing that he thought of while he lost his air, his lungs began to burn, and everything went black.

[storiesoflilies]

t.w: mentions of violence. if a gifted artist would like to bless us all with fanart inspired by this drabble, just know you will have saved my life.

thinking about knight!toji fushiguro who has gone completely rogue. he does not care for oaths or honor or justice, not anymore. he takes whatever he wants from whoever has it, with determined grit and merciless steel. who wears armor blacker than the night and rides atop a midnight stallion, its hooves striking the ground like thunder so you knew who was coming for you.

he was a god, a herald of death.

so they say.

but here you are, in his clutches atop his steed, and oh, how you believe everything you’ve ever heard about him.

“so pliant for me,” he hummed, his hand around your throat, bringing the back of your head to rest against his chest. “what a sweet little thing you are.”

you knew better than to try and fight him.

his lips ghosted over your neck, the tip of a fang lightly grazing your skin, and you felt his chest rumble. you shivered, even though his cloak was warm against your shoulders. it sounded like he was pleased, and his strong grip around you tightened. you couldn’t help but glance down at the ground, at the trampled bodies of the men who had tried to corner you, and toji tutted softly. his calloused fingers tilted your chin up, guiding your gaze away from the sight, arching your back against him. his green eyes peered into your very soul, and you had never felt more alive.

“sorry for all that,” he breathed out, chuckling, and you knew he wasn’t sorry at all. “i tend to get carried away.”

you don’t know why you said it, but you did. “it’s okay.”

toji barked out a laugh, burying his face into your neck, messy strands of his hair tickling you. his thighs pressed into yours, like he was trying to meld himself into you. his horse snorted loudly beneath you, impatient, its powerful muscles rippling.

“yes,” he murmured, more to himself than to you. “i think i’ll just have to take you with me, keep you safe.”

and with that, toji sharply spurred his stallion onward, and the both of you disappeared into the shadows of the night.

©storiesoflilies 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[thatrandomlittlegirl]

When you type Gaster's name into the game, the game shuts down and resets.

What would happen when you type his name elsewhere...?

[virescent-v]

Subconsciously Green-Eyed

Summary: Jealousy? Emily's never heard of it.

A/N: So...I tried to challenge myself to do a 500 word drabble. I didn't make it. LMAO. But lucky for ya'll you get two fics from me within 24 hours! There's no warnings to this one; there's no smut.

Word Count: 983

Emily cast her glance back and forth across the table. It wasn’t unlike her team to joke and lighten the mood during debriefs, but something about this instance was getting under her skin. 

She eyeballed the table, looking intently at each person present trying to figure out what was bothering her. It was the usual group of people; Tara, Penelope, JJ, Luke, and Dave. But there was also a new addition to the table. 

A young, attractive agent from New York. A bright mind in the Cyber Division office, if she were to go by what your section chief said. You were down in DC helping out on the case they were currently working on. Everyone on the team was besotted with you already after only having known you for two days. 

You were a bright light in the otherwise bleak office. You were average in height, but loud in personality. Your optimism rivaled that of Penelope, as did your technological savviness, and your humor meshed well with both Tara and Luke. You were confident and extroverted without being cocky and knowledgeable without being a know-it-all. 

Everyone was captivated by you, trying to work closely with you over the past couple of days. You had knowledge that seeped into various topics that made you an asset at the round table. More importantly, you were creative with directions to take the case that opened up a few different leads that impressed everyone, including Emily. 

As Emily continued surveying the table, you were in the middle of a funny story from your first New York case and everyone around it had their eyes on you. You were leaning lightly into Penelope’s personal space, your hand on her arm, sharing a quick giggle at something techy. You made sure to make eye contact with everyone around the table, keeping everyone’s attention on you. It felt natural, the way you worked the small crowd, and Emily could tell that each member was enamored with you. 

She noticed that Tara and Luke’s eyes were more heavily focused on you than the others, something dark and gleaming. Watching them watch you, their eyes trailing sneakily but lazily over your body, Emily could feel something swelling inside of her. Something unnamed, something she hadn’t felt before. 

As she was internally cataloging whatever feelings were swirling inside her, she didn’t notice the room clear out leaving only herself and you. 

You noticed Emily’s distraction during the past few minutes, especially as the team made their way out and she stayed behind. Her gaze was directed at the table top, but it looked befuddled, distant. 

“Agent Prentiss?” When you didn’t receive any response, you timidly walked around the table and gently put your hand on her arm. You spoke quietly, not wanting to scare her out of her reverie. “Emily?” 

Regardless of your trying to be soft spoken, Emily still startled, jumping a little. “Wha- oh. Sorry, I was in another world.” 

You laughed lightly, breaking the tension a bit. “I could tell. Is everything okay?” 

Emily cleared her throat, still unsure of how to name the emotions rippling inside her. “Oh, ye-yeah. It’s nothing. Just a lot on my mind.” She looked around, finally registering that the team had left. “Are you enjoying DC?” 

You tilted your head a little at her, your eyes softening. “I am. It’s a nice change of pace from New York,” you stepped a little closer to the section chief. “I really like the team. Everyone’s, uh, great.” 

Emily had to stop herself from rolling her eyes. Go figure you enjoyed the attention of her agents. She figured you probably noticed the glances that some of them were throwing your way, your personality clinging to the admiration. “I can tell,” she said with just a hint of something venomous. 

Your head tilted a little further as you scrutinized her. You were not as proficient in profiling, but you weren’t blind. You leaned back on the table and crossed your arms over your chest, regarding Emily with a hint of amusement. “Agent Prentiss, are you jealous of my newly budding relationships with your team?” 

“Jeal-? Jealous? No, no. Why, why would I be jealous?” 

Emily felt her face flush, confused by the emotions rushing through her. Was it jealousy? But why would she be jealous of her team showing you attention? 

“It doesn’t take a profiler to spot jealousy.” You walked closer to her, close enough that you could feel her body heat. “You’re stuttering over your words when you’re normally very well spoken. Your hands are clenched at your sides right now.” You trailed your hands over Emily’s hands, loosening them. You trailed your hands up her arms, keeping your eyes on Emily and her reactions. 

As your hands brushed her shoulders, Emily’s breath caught. “I can feel your muscles, you’re pretty tense right now.” Your hands continued north, brushing the underside of her jaw. “You’ve been clenching your teeth and frowning with narrowed eyes since you noticed Luke and Tara checking me out.” You trailed your thumb over her lower lip, which she had pulled between her teeth at your movements. “So, yeah, I’m not a profiler, Agent Prentiss, but all signs point to jealousy,” you said, arching your eyebrow. 

Emily slowly released a breath, gently closing her eyes in a way to relax herself. “Maybe I am jealous,” she whispered. 

You watched as Emily steeled herself, confidence lighting up her eyes. You grinned fondly as you gently shook your head, opening your body language as Emily prepared herself. 

“I think,” she started, her hands landing on your hips. “To avoid all further jealousy, I should beat Tara and Luke to the punch.” She took a deep breath. “Want to get dinner with me tonight?” 

You couldn’t suppress the teasing smile that broke out across your face. “Why, Agent Prentiss, I thought you’d never ask.” 

[teddybeartoji]

dazai and gojo are so similar in my head. silly little touch starved geniuses<33333333

they both get so lovesick – staring at you with hearts in their eyes as you talk about your day. they rest their heads on their palms, twirling a strand of your hair between their slender fingers while humming. there's a sickeningly sweet smile plastered onto their faces, the corners of their eyes crinkling at the sight of you dramatically reenact even the smallest details.

they hope you never stop talking – they want to listen to you forever; they want to look at you forever. you give them so much comfort, you make them feel safe and sounds just with your voice. and your smile. and your eyes.

after you're done, they'll smother you with honeyed kisses – mouth, nose, cheeks, eyes, forehead, jaw, temple; they won't stop until you're melting into their arms with laughter spilling from your lips like a waterfall.

(is is bad that they want to drown? is it bad they want you to swallow them whole? is it bad they want to sink; to hide from the world and just be yours forever?)

[petvampire]

Jerejean and the necklace 👀 you just know it’s bouncing around when they’re-

ohmygod YESSSSSS.

~

He can’t help but pay attention to it - the glint of silver catching the light. Renee’s cross, the one Jean always wears without fail, its original chain broken and replaced with a sturdier one. It falls two inches or so below the line of his collarbone, usually, far enough down to be tucked beneath a shirt collar, or hidden under his gear.

It’s very obvious now without anything in the way of it, the pendant swinging against Jean’s chest with every movement of his hips, every arch of his back. The Frenchman is currently preoccupied with riding Jeremy for everything he’s worth, and yet he can’t stop staring at the damn necklace while his boyfriend is bouncing on his dick. It’s so absurd, it almost drags a laugh out of him, one that turns into a groan as Jean grinds his hips down against him in a movement that makes Jeremy see stars.

Part of him wonders if he should feel some lingering spark of jealousy that Jean still wears the necklace, a piece of Renee always with him. Part of him wonders if he can give the other something that he’ll hang onto with equal care, wonders what he would choose.

Most of him, though, is just fixated on how perfect the pendant looks against Jean’s skin, how every movement of it emphasizes the elegant sweep of his neck and collarbones, the lean muscle of his chest and shoulders. It’s just a focal point that helps drive home how gorgeous the other is, as if Jeremy didn’t already know.

Renee would probably enjoy the sight, he thinks with an impish grin, reaching up to drag Jean into a kiss. Maybe he’ll snap a photo for her, next time.

[shares-a-vest]

Prompt: Lazy Sunday (Discord Drabble) Ft. Eddie's butt because well, we all saw that gif from Hoard today right?

Steve wanders back into the bedroom to find Eddie just where he left him: lounging on his bed and wearing nothing at all.

He smiles as he stops just by the foot of the bed, admiring his boyfriend and how the afternoon sunlight is highlighting Eddie's shoulders, the subtle muscles in his back.

The peaks and valleys of his scars.

The plump flesh of his –

"– Can you believe Julia Roberts, man?" Eddie says, tearing Steve from his lovesick and ogling stupor.

He flaps the magazine page he is reading and shakes his head, his somewhat frizzed curls bouncing with the movement.

Eddie continues babbling away – something about Kiefer Sutherland and the other guy from The Lost Boys and how 'scandalous' he finds the whole thing.

But it all goes in one ear and out the other, all because Eddie's dramatic retelling has him squirming about as he talks and causes his ass to jiggle just enough that Steve is left hypnotised.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

MDZS au where WWX isn't rescued by the jiangs and he basically becomes a Mafia boss. Or whatever the equivalent for ancient Xianxia China Mafia boss is

Just, imagine it: An elegant man robed in white ducks into a low den, tucked away in the labyrinthine city alleys.

A fair yet strong hand pushes aside gauzy carmine arrases, yet his keen vision remains partially veiled. Lazy clouds of smoke intermingle with the rich fabrics that cocoon the low-slung chambers.

Men and women alike crowd the ornate hall, a variety of characters all in different stages of repose. The rich tones of liquor, incense and secondhand smoke perfume the room. From respectable scholars to disreputes of society, unowned and owned women, thieves and merchants, criminals.

The low humming of a multitude creates a melodious baseline of noise.

A thin yet surprisingly forceful hand clamps down on Lan Wangji's shoulder. Lacquered nails dig through the fabric and into his muscles. A feminine voice cuts through the polyrhythmic thrum of voices, drawling.

"And what, is a man like you doing here?"

Woman and cultivator meet eyes. She's small, yet her build is strong. Wrapped in vermillion brocade, cold eyes and a strong brow. Hair bound tightly, ornamented with glinting hairpins. There are blades hung on her belt. Lan Wangji bows his head respectfully, baritone joining the chorus of voices around.

"I would like to meet him."

Her gaze is sharper than a serrated edge. She steps deeper into the room, eyes flicking about the occupants and back to Lan Wangji. Back turned, he can only see the profile of her face as she considers the audacity of his request.

"And why should I, Bái-daozhang?"

白 Bái: Artic, Snowy, White, Bright.

Steadily, he replies.

"I would speak to him."

She snorts, swinging her head in his direction.

"I'm afraid a reason like that won't suffice. And quite simply, Bái-daozhang, you remain here on my sufferance.

State your goal."

Four women bleed out from the crowd, penning him in.

Right as Lan Wangji was about to speak, a strong and merry voice calls out from the depths of the chamber.

"Li-jiejie! What have you caught there? Bring it here."

She glares at Lan Wangji but motions him forward, deeper into the den. Two red clad women flank him, escorting him to the source of that mellifluous voice. His eyes search for the other two, but it seems they bled back into the hubbub.

He's hustled through curtains and past partitions, the crowd thinning out the further he's taken. More and more red robed persons flit past his vision.

Two guards stand by a veiled doorway, stances relaxed yet emitting a dangerous aura. They merely observe as Lan Wangji is ushered through the heavy embroidery and silks.

Low tables lurk at the edges of the room, from the rafters hang black tapestries, the smell of wood and candle wax welcomes him in. A draft carries the signature of wine to him.

Littered around the room are people, some caught in amicable conversation, others observing the proceedings.

His generals, perhaps.

At the head of the room is a man. The man. He sprawls on a mahogany throne, cushions and pillows artistically strewn about him, lending his position overabundant gravitas.

An irreverent hand swirls a jar of wine. Leather braces peek out from beneath long black sleeves that fan about his sides. His robes cling to his chest and torso, displaying the man's lithe and powerful body.

Not dissimilar easygoing musculature of a panther. He moved like a river at night.

Black and grey skirts played about his ankles, the polished leather of his boots catching the diffused light.

His waist was trim and firm, wrapped in crimson textile, the red of his waist meeting the black of his chest in pleasing contrast. Lan Wangji's eyes travelled up. Tanned skin parted his collars, revealing a structured collar-bone and sinewy neck. Long hair framed his bust, locks burning copper in the light.

Outdoors from a young age would explain the bronze appearance and sunbaked hair.

Grey eyes caught his.

Ornamented by a winsome face and charming smile, those intelligent eyes took note of Lan Wangji's every detail.

"What have we here?"

The woman, Miss Li he supposes, gave the lissome man a respectful bow.

"Bái-daozhang here claims a desire to speak with you."

The beautiful face turns inquisitive.

"Bái-gege, what can this lowly man do for you?"

"Lan."

Lan Wangji is inwardly surprised at his sudden reply.

Eyebrows raise and the handsome man's eyes twinkle in delight

"Lan-gege, then."

Lan Wangji watches as wine-stained lips wrap around the syllables.

The flippant hand loosely brings the jar to his lips, chin tilted up, exposing the lewd column of his throat as it bobbed.

"What brings a respectable cultivator like Lan-gege to this Wuxian's hospitality?"

No one has ever spoken his name the way he did. Playful, warm and teasing. Flirtatious.

Lan Wangji would like to hear him speak it again.

Wei Wuxian leans forward as Lan Wangji explains.

Their gazes never waver from the other. It was as if they were the only two in the room.

[nebuladreamz]

“You make for terrible habits.”

The words ring in your ears as you paused for a split second, broom still in your grip before continuing. “Oh yeah?” You reply, no hesitance. “What makes you think that?”

Save for both of your presences, El Chip’s is quiet, the lights dimmed considering it was after hours. One of these days you were going to strangle your employer for the change in times, but some good came out from staying past closing. One of them being talking to your recent favorite bot. Well, technically two, but whatever.

You lifted your head up towards the ceiling, seeing your favorite hanging there, red beady eyes staring in your direction.

Arms finding each other crossed against your chest, letting the broom lean at an angle atop one of the dining tables, you raise a brow at him. “Well? What makes you think so, twinkletoes?”

He scowls at the name, which only makes you give a cocky grin.

Moon takes a few beats of silence for himself until he finally relents an answer. “Figure it out.”

You huff at that. “You’re one to talk then.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Now you’re just saying things.”

A scratchy chuckle itches your ears as you move to grab the handle of the tool to return to work. The lunar-themed robot irritated you at points, but despite his efforts of annoying and pestering you (ones that always succeeded), you could never find yourself liking him any less. What could you say? You like the kind of guy that could wreck your shit. At least half the time.

So when the time came that his hands found their place around your neck, squeezing painfully, tears pricking your eyes, the bubbling fire threatening to push through his grip was surprising. You can’t remember what was said before now.

But it hurts. Maybe it was your fault. You don’t know. It hurts.

He had a habit of getting too close. A terrible habit until the end.

[jasminepicksflowers]

Cookies

Isaac was always one to pay attention to every minor detail. The kitchen cups misplaced somewhere in the library, the swing moving outside, the creeks of the staircase, the vague sound of the water running.

Every little detail comforted Isaac. Reminding him he was not alone anymore, he’s with someone now. Someone who loved him and looked after him.

“Isaac!” Your voice happily calls out to him as his office door opens. “Look what I made!” You walk up to him with a big smile plastered on your face. Placing the plate of cookies on his desk, you lean down crossing your arms on his desk, propping yourself up.

“Try them!” You requested Isaac. He looked at you with a soft smile, picking up a cookie and biting softly. Only to be met with the taste of nothing. Air. He looked down at the plate again confused, realising the plate was gone, and so were you.

Isaac sprung up from his desk, looking frantically around his office. Until his eyes glanced over at the pink orchids planted around your tombstone through the window. His body stifled, lungs tightened as choked tears escaped his eyes.

[slashingdisneypasta]

Freddy Krueger x FinalGirl!Reader || Drabble

Plot: You think its your boyfriend. Well, he's dead and it's not.

Warnings: Non-con kissing.

Tagging: @ghouletka , @gr4veyardg1rlv , @kawaistrawberry21 , @lady-love88 , @masqueradeball , @miss-understood , @slxsherwriter , @spookiifi , and @thecourtofgraywaves .

When your eyes fall on him, his soft brown eyes and his crumpled band t-shirt waiting for you just outside of class, you feel happiness bubble up in you and a beam spread across your face.

"'M here to pick you up sweetheart- you ready to go?"

Before he can even get his keys out of his camo pants you've thrown your arms around him, burying your face in his shoulder. "I missed you!"

"Bunny- I appreciate the warm welcome but I dropped you off this morning! You okay??" He sounds baffled, and a little amused, but he drops the pursuit for his car keys and rubs your back instead; making you sigh. His hand lands on your hip then, and squeezes, and you press your face more firmly into his shoulder. You missed him so much.

"Yeah, I'm okay. Love you."

"Heh... I love you, too."

After a moment, you pull back and look at him. That ruffled hair, that sharp jaw, those happy eyes. You don't notice the slightly off-kilter way he's standing; his left shoulder dropped ever-so-slightly- or you ignore it.

It feels so real. It's gotta be real. You swear, that it's real.

Gently you lean up and press your lips to his, feeling his kiss for the first time, since-

God it feels so so real. He melts into it, pressing his mouth so softly-firmly against yours that your head goes fuzzy and fizzy. Vaguely, in the back of your mind, under some discarded papers, there's a part of you telling you it can't be, though. That this doesn't taste like him, that he's not wearing his usual cologne. That you're not kissing him right now, it's impossible, because he's-

But you don't listen. It's totally real, you think, tilting your head and wrapping your arms more snuggly around his neck. It's real, it's real, it's real, you chant in your head.

You missed him so much, you can feel it in your bones. The relief at having him here against you again makes you ache and feel better then you have in days, since he went to sleep and he was- since he went to sleep and the next morning, he was found-

Again, your thoughts stop just before they can finish. They fight to get through, but you... You almost don't want to finish them. A part of you knows what's going to happen when you realise, a heartbroken part of you aching dully inside.

Slowly the hand on your hip grows out, the fingers stretching longer and getting sharper. You hear it like a sword coming unsheathed and you feel blades sliding against your hip.

But you keep kissing him; theirs a desperation, now. A need to hold on, to keep him. Him; Your highschool boyfriend. The one you survived elm street with that first time in your senior year. Who you broke up with in your first year of college because the work load was too hard. Who you found, again, a year later. Who Freddy finally, after 3 years home-safe, kil-

The feeling of the brim of a hat, soft and warn, grazing your forehead.

Right now this is him. This is your. him. You don't wanna let go, you know something's wrong here, so so wrong, but you're so heartbroken and so hurt you cant let go-

You don't want him to go, again- you just got him back!-

Polyester turns to wool under your touch as he suddenly deepens the kiss, forcing your lips open wider. His tongue grows out longer down your throat, and-

You choke, the spell broken and reality crashing down around you as you realise the wolf in sheep clothing that you're kissing. Eyes opening, you use one forearm to shove Freddy off of you- and he's smirking and leering like a goblin at you as you trip back onto your ass; covering your mouth. Tears grow in your eyes from choking on his horrible tongue and also remembering that your boyfriend is dead.

He's dead. And Freddy's back again. And you're in a nightmare that never ever fucking ends.

"What's the matter there, princess, you wanted me pretty bad a second ago~ "

"You evil, evil freak." Tears overflow, filling up your furious eyes and then bubbling over onto your scowling cheeks; holding yourself up with the heel of one hand digging into the boiler room floor behind you. The other still covers your warm, tingling lips.

With a too-pleased grin, Freddy takes off his hat and does a deep bow in front of you, holding his hat to his chest like some kind of gentleman magician. "... oh you're too kind~ "

[shushposting]

I can be your Prince or I can be your Dragon

Possessive Full Demon Form Vox, intersex Val, toxic relationships because Vox and Val being Vox and Val, they’re so codependent it's disgusting can you have make up sex and hate sex at the same time? Yeah kind of.

Valentino stays gone too long after a fight, Vox doesn’t handle it well

It’s a dance at this point, well practiced and predictable. They fight, they break apart, they fuck, and the broken pieces fit back together. It didn’t matter how many times they stormed out they always always came back.

But even the most practiced dances stumble sometimes, right?

Valentino had walked out of the Vees tower two weeks ago. The longest he's ever stayed away in all their years of euphoric highs and sickening lows. Any attempt Vox made to contact him was ignored. Texts left on read, calls dumped to Vmail, assistants baring messages and gifts shot and left wherever they crumpled. That was the first week and by the tenth day, the texts and calls stopped.

After that, it got more drastic. TVs in the hotels he stayed or in window displays where Valentino walked on the streets burst. Voxtek appliances shorted and sparked or just combusted once he touched them. Lights shattered in his clubs, showering him with sparks and colored glass.

The moth’s last frayed nerve snapped when the next casualty was his phone. He'd only glanced at a text from Velvette that he needed to haul ass back home before every contact and app changed to Vox's speed dial.

Vox vox voxxy V̸̨̊o̶̺͛ ̴̀ͅxv̴̎͜o̸̰̐x̵̢̚x̶̡̒v̴̙̕oVox ̷̬́x̸̪̊ẍ̵͎v̷̱̍ȏ̶̧x̶̄͜Y̴̞̚v̸̟̓Ǒ̸͎X̴̞̍V̸̄͜ö̸̟́X̴̫̀vXY̸͌ͅo̵͖̓Ơ̶̯0̴̡͂0̸͕͘x̶̉͜

The thing rapidly heated and glitched in his hand until the screen cracked. He'd just barely managed to throw it down before it shattered apart with a sharp pop!

Under threat of being sent back to the goddamn stone age Valentino finally relents, he tells Dia to call his car for him and thankfully she's able to do it with minimal static and sparking around the phone. The car was suspiciously close, too close for it to not have been waiting on standby for him. It's not his usual driver who opens the door for him, it's Vox's and he's not asked where it is he wants to go. He swears he sees Vox's eye staring at him in the driver's V-Watch through the partition the whole way back to the tower.

The walk to the media overlord's surveillance room is.. honestly a shitshow. Vox's area of the tower was always pristine, sleek, and perfect. Now it looks like a war zone, with pieces of employees and debris scattered along the floor. Lights hang from their fixtures in ugly wirey tangles, ceiling tiles broken on the floor, elevator doors stand jarred between floors, doors not able to close properly and ding obnoxiously. One shudders to life and opens for him, the light overhead indicating the destination was Vox's lair.

It's not a smooth ride but it doesn't drop him to a temporary death either. Small mercies. It does leave him though, the second he steps into Vox's private space the thing slams shut behind him and groans back up the chute, stranding him.

Wires and cables writhe like snakes along the floor, the ceiling, and walls; all feeding back to the bank of monitors. Vox's highbacked chair was in a gnarled heap, torn from where it had been fastened to the floor, more wires coming up from the hole it had left. The TV demon himself hung in front of the screens, the cables connected to his body holding him aloft like a puppet. Or maybe he was just standing. It was hard to tell with Vox's disjointed limbs, too-long cables and wires lengthening his joints like some grotesque doll. And he said Val was theatric.

Valentino's own reflection looks out from the screens. Recordings and still shots of him over the last two weeks cover every monitor. In his clubs, hotels, the street, looking up at him from his phone before the damn thing detonated. Right in front, the one Vox was fixated on, was the live feed of him standing there in the here and now.

"And you get mad at me for wrecking shit?" Val says to his partner's back- might as well get this shit started "I take a siesta and you trash the whole tower while I'm out."

"G⦻N3" The glitched snarl seemingly comes from everywhere as the screens go red, Vox's black-ringed hypnotic stare broadcast across each one, glaring down at him "Not 'out'. You were gone."

A sneer pulls Valentino's upper lip off his teeth "Oh excuse me, I didn't know I had a fucking curfew."

"Two weeks" In a surging wave of sparking cables Vox is in his face, bodily slamming him against the wall.

"Ow- Goddammit, Vox-"

"You left me." Vox's claws fist into the ruff around his partner's neck as wires wrap painfully around him, sparks of electricity singing the fur. "For two weeks. You. Left. Me."

"Oh poor fucking baby," Valentino growls through a mocking grin, sucking in the electrical smoke and hissing it back out red and thick, cocooning around them as his body threatens to change, to grow monstrous in the face of Vox's own more demonic form even if it makes the wires cut into his skin.

They snarl and growl in static glitches and insectoid chirps, pushing and pulling at each other with too-sharp claws. Val's teeth grow in his mouth, snapping loud in front of Vox's screen when the hypnotic stare tries too obviously to catch his eye.

"You want to bite me? Here-" Vox's throat is suddenly right in his face, synthetic skin pressing against sharp dripping fangs. The hold feels suspiciously like a hug, cradling the back of Valentino's head as he tucks him into the crook of his neck, offering to let him bite and rip. "-bite. I don't give a fuck if we're fighting. Scream. Cuss me out. Hit me. Level this goddamn tower to a parking lot, Valentino I. Don't. Care. But you will fucking come home when I call you."

And fuck if that horrible- pathetic- declaration doesn't have Valentino's hips rolling up against Vox's leg where it pins him between his legs and takes the invitation to break skin under his teeth. "You miss me that bad, Papi?"

Vox's groan is miserable and angry, the cables writhing and tightening around Valentino's limbs, but he grinds his own aggression-hardened cock down to meet his partner's rolling. "You're not supposed to stay gone."

Electricity crawls across his skin as he lets go of Valentino's neck fluff to forcefully lace their hands together. The moth retaliates against the shocks by moving to the TV demon's shoulder and sinking his teeth in there too. Their hips slot together, rocking their cocks against each other, Valentino's pink-tinged slick dampening the panties under his short dress and the front of Vox's slacks. Finally back in step with their dance.

"We have a goddamn deal, Val." The surging electricity burns them both, smoke wafting off Valentino's fur and from Vox's overloaded processors. Burns down their arms, raising lighting-shaped marks to their joined hands where rings manifest around their fingers, the delicate chain joining them unseen between their clasped palms. "We don't leave each other. You don't leave me."

Valentino laughs bratty and condescending, breathing more red into the air around them, "Maybe if you reminded me more often why I shouldn't then I wouldn't have to take a two-week vacation fucking and getting fucked like I deserve. You've not really been acting like my prince have you? I thought I was supposed to be your Princesa?"

The eyes watching him from all over the room spark and glare and threaten to drip digital tears. His poor, hopeless little Voxxy. His ingrained 1950s ego was too fragile to even insinuate he wasn't doing enough, wasn't The Man, wasn't the steadfast and proper provider. That he was failing as a lover. Vox's screen flashes lines of rainbow before going blue, white text typing out frantically

Mine. Mine minemiN3youucaN'+1eavemme3y0u're MmineCaNT13avemem1n3on1ymine

Vox tears through his fishnets and raises bloody lines on his thigh as he pulls Valentino's leg up to hook over his hip. The cables tighten and yank sharply, taking them down to the floor. He's not easy either when he goes up under the tight little skirt, blindly slitting the soaked panties straight down the middle, not minding whether or not he nicks his partner. The grinding, insectoid hiss tells him he must have and the thick cherry scent of Valentino's pheromones flooding the air tells him he liked it.

Finally, some attention. The moth rolls his hips against the sharp points making them slide and rub over his cunt, teasing himself as an obscene gush of candy pink slick coats the media overlord’s fingers and drips down his wrist. "Come on, Papi. I'm yours? Show me."

Vox's digital face loads back in sharp and snarling, bringing the fingers to his mouth, licking his fingers clean before grabbing Valentino by the jaw and spitting it back into his panting mouth "You taste like a whore, Princess."

He snaps his belt at the buckle, not bothering to try and undo it before tearing his zipper down. He doesn't tease or let his tip kiss up sweet and slow like he has for decades when they come back together and he's winning his princess back. The push is sharp and faster than either of them are ready for, fucking like they fought, full of snapping teeth and cutting claws. The media overlord is ruthless, thrusting hard enough that they slide across the floor. Valentino tears a bloody wrist out of the wires to press above them to keep his head from knocking against the wall, stilettos slipping loudly as he digs his heels into the polished floor trying to give just as good as he got.

"I'm going to kill every worthless nobody you let touch you." His voice crackles over the wet sound of driving himself into the moth's cunt, "Your pussy is mine. I don't give a fuck who you let suck you off or how many whores you stick your dick in. But this-" Two fingers slip in beside his cock, "is mine. Nobody else fucks you. I'm going to start hanging them flayed in the streets, do you understand me?"

Long tongue swiping at the drool and blood painting his lips Valentino arches up with a chuckling moan, gushing and dripping around Vox's cock. "Mmhm, medieval. My Prince knows how to make my heart flutter."

"Maybe I'm done being a prince." Vox leans all his weight into the hand laced with Valentino's with a static rumble, hilting hard until he can see the outline of himself through Valentino's belly with each deep stroke, "Maybe I need to be a dragon and keep my princess in his tower where he belongs. Keep you tied up in silks and jewelry until I get home and I can show you you're mine over and over and over. How many times do you think I would have to write 'mine' with my tongue inside you before you came?"

"Oh fuck- Vox"

"If that doesn't work I'm sure I can make a lock strong enough. Whatever it takes. What about this Val? Would this keep you?” There’s a whirr and a vibration pulses from his cock.

Valentino wails, hand leaving the wall and flying to the vibrating bump buried in his guts, feeling like it was jarring down to his bones and he gushes. “Vox Vo- Papi, please fuck”

“Say you’re mine, Val.” Vox growls, hips snapping faster, the hand tucked in beside his cock slipping out to hold him by the neck. “Tell me you know you’re mine.”

“Yours, Vox. Ah-always yours- only yours”

He pulls Valentino into a kiss by the throat, and they rut like that, rocking and shouting around each other’s tongue until the vibrations pushed them over the cathartic edge of orgasm.

The cables don’t loosen. Vox’s body doesn’t return to form.

“Val.” Static laced lips rub softly across the moth’s “If you ever leave me like that again I’m dragging you back to this tower and I’m chaining you to it.”

Valentino only laughs, long tongue dragging across the screen. “Wear the dragon attachment and it’s a date.”

.

[thesymphonytrue]

For the drabble challenge, #26: “The diamond in your engagement ring is fake.”

Have fun!

"The diamond in your engagement ring is fake"

Read on AO3

for this Drabble challenge, here

“Peter, please, please let me go into the party undercover,” Neal pleaded as he fidgeted in his seat in the van like a puppy in a crate, “I could even make the arrest if you give me your badge.” “Only law enforcement can make arrests,” Peter shot Neal a look, a headache already forming from Neal’s constant van chatter, “And last I checked, you do not enforce the law, you break it.” Neal leaned in, invading Peter’s personal space and grinning wildly. Peter could smell his expensive cologne and fought the urge to roll his eyes. “Not when I’m working with you,” Neal said softly.

Peter considered this, heart softening with affection.

“I have been on my best behavior lately,” Neal sat up, puffing out his chest, again giving Peter the image of a puppy--a puppy now begging for a treat. “Fine,” Peter conceded, “But we go in together. Let me just get my coat—” "Thanks!!" Neal said quickly and dashed out of the car before Peter could even stand. “Damn it, Neal,” Peter grumbled under his breath, scrambling to exit the van to catch up with his CI. Jogging into the party, out of breath in his uncomfortable tuxedo (why did he have to wear this?!), Peter spotted Neal. Neal was cozied up with a gorgeous woman who appeared to be in her thirties with big green eyes and vintage-curled blonde hair. Neal held her perfectly manicured hand and was closely examining her glittering diamond ring.

Peter groaned. Beautiful woman and diamonds, two things Neal could not resist. Of course Neal was flirting and looking at gemstones instead of actually gathering data. Peter managed to get to them just as Neal got a mischievous look on his face. Come on, Neal, don't--- “Ma’am, the diamond in your engagement ring is fake,” Neal said smoothly, eyes alight with intelligence and a dash of humor.

Peter wanted to face palm himself. “Excuse me?” the woman said, once bubbly voice now tight and pinched. “Go to any jewler and get it authenticated, you’ll find that the—” “Pardon my buddy here,” Peter said, stepping in and painting an embarrassed smile on his face. He slid an arm around Neal, “Too much champagne for you!” Neal glared at Peter. Peter plucked the glass from Neal’s hand, leading Neal away. “Nice to meet you, Ashley!!” Neal called to the woman as Peter huffed him over to the bar. “What the hell are you doing? Riling guests? Flirting?!” Peter whispered angrily. Neal’s eyes sparkled with delight, ignoring Peter's anger completely: “Her fiance is the mark.” Peter narrowed his eyes, “And?” “And…she has a fake diamond ring,” Neal said as if it was obvious. “Do I have to spell it out for you, Peter? He’s replacing all the jewelry he insured with fakes! Including his fiancé's ring! Her ring is the evidence we need!” A smile crawled across Peter’s face. Neal never ceased to amaze him. “Admit it, I’m a genius,” Neal chided. “Don’t get cocky.” “You know you love me,” Neal said as he spun on his heels to get another glass of champagne. That I do, Neal. Peter admitted quietly to himself as he watched Neal stride away confidently, That, I do. 

[willowser]

bodyguard au + bathtime fic for kiri ?

oooooh, this is fun !!! i'm thinking of like, some situation in which you are the child of someone who is big and wealthy, maybe owns a few different multi-million dollar corporations and perhaps doesn't do it all legally 👀

kirishima has always been in the service of protecting your father !! you know him because he is a forever shadow in your home, quiet and large, peeking out windows and making sure doors are locked. he only speaks if you speak to him first, but his answers are always cut short when your father is around.

— so on a night when he has to go out of town, you're a little delighted to see kirishima sitting at the kitchen table when you get home from work.

"hi," he tells you, rising to stand leagues above you. his face is sweet, despite his wide stature. shy. "your dad asked me to stay with you until he comes back, i hope you don't mind."

oh, you don't mind at all.

it's probably really fun !!! and you make the two of you dinner and he relaxes a bit after eating, even takes off the dark jacket he's always in. his forehead shines a little, like he's sweaty, and he hikes the sleeves of his white button-up to his elbows underneath the fluorescence.

he's still is a bit hard to talk to, but he listens as you prattle on about your day, scooting around the kitchen as you clean up. he offers to finish for you, but you shoo at him to sit back down and after a little bit of insistence from you, he finally agrees to have a beer. or two.

that loosens him up enough that the conversation flows a bit easier; you learn his first name, and his cheeks go red when you repeat it with a grin. he tells you a little about his mom, that he's an only child, that he never went to college: very basic stuff that paints a vague picture of him.

you know your father does some shady things, deals with shady people. why else would he need a giant for a bodyguard, that could probably snap a man's neck without even trying ?? kirishima tells you little things, but he doesn't go too deep. doesn't reveal what twists and turns he made in his past to put him here.

eventually you leave to get ready for bed, and the soft look on his face ALMOST has you sitting down for more with him. he shifts his eyes to the table, then, like he knows he's been caught staring too long and you wonder — when the last time was that he did anything for himself ?? not for your father, or even for you, but. for eijirou.

regardless, you slip on up the stairs and take your time making a nice bubble bath, putting on some light music. there's a bar on the second floor and you steal a bottle of wine from it and two glasses before nestling in the warm water, spreading your legs out to test how much room you have in the gigantic tub.

and then you call for him. a little more urgently that necessary, but it brings him to you quicker, suddenly appearing in the open doorway of your bathroom with wide eyes, flushing down his neck when he sees you.

you lean against the edge of the tub, smiling as you prop your chin in your hand. "i was wondering if you could help me wash my back."

the question seems to buffer in his mind for a long time before he's finally blinking, adam's apple bobbing. and then he's bringing the bathroom door behind him as he begins to unbutton his shirt.

✨️ trope game ! ✨️