#super short drabble

[divisicn]

"Who are you? Death?" "Not today."

@v-jestica

A Dusanka and Shiloh mood board.

4 headcanons I have for them.

Dusanka has found Shiloh passed out on several occasions somewhere random. The craziest was probably under the stairs of a building in a remote village.

Upon first meeting with Dusanka, Shiloh almost punched her when she appeared behind her in a cleared building.

Shiloh has tried summoning Dusanka like Beetlejuice, saying her name three times. Just because, at one point, she did appear, and that was a sign that she had to do it more often.

Shiloh enjoys Dusankas company because it usually comes at the most random of times. They seem to be when Shiloh is alone and just needs another voice to keep her company.

3 songs I tie to Dusanka.

We Drink Your Blood - Powerwolf

Vampires Will Never Hurt You - My Chemical Romance

Make Me Wanna Die - The Pretty Reckless

2 plot ideas.

I would enjoy a thread in which Dusanka loses it and goes ripping out some jugulars. I'm just saying. We could probably find a fun way to get this idea going.

I also would very much enjoy a very caring Dusanka comforting Shiloh during a hard time.

1 drabble.

"Alright, new question." She was tired, and walking was on autopilot. She needed to make it to the next town, and her vehicle was a blazing fireball several miles back. "How the hell does your like teleporting work?" Was it teleporting? It could be teleporting. Dusanka would just appear. "Do you get like a portal that I just never get to see? Or is it instant, and poof appearing right there?" Wait, oh man, new thought. "Have you ever accidentally poofed into someone?"

Shiloh wanted to keep asking questions. She was tired, though, and her brain was still pretty focused on the surroundings. Sticking to a main road was the last thing she wanted to do. But if anyone came by with a vehicle, she wanted to snag it. The talking helped with the walk. Her legs felt like mush, and she was positive if she stopped moving, they wouldn't get moving again.

[chibinasuu]

Sanji treasures his hands. 

He never uses them for violence, or for destruction. Instead, Sanji uses his hands to create.

From a humble onigiri to a hearty beef bourguignon, to a fancy cocktail or a fluffy soufflé. There is nothing that those hands couldn’t whip up instantly on any of the crew’s whim. 

But most of all, Sanji uses his hands to love.

His hand holds yours so gently, other times interlocking tightly as if never wanting to let go.

His hands knead and rub your tight shoulders, your tired feet, your aching back.

His hands pour fragrant shampoo upon your hair, massaging your scalp as you relax in the hot waters of the tub.

His hand stays at the small of your back whenever you were walking together, keeping you near in a sea of strangers.

His hands tickle your sides playfully, coaxing sweet, joyful laughter out of you.

His hand stroke your hair to a hummed lullaby as you fall asleep.

His hands grip your waist so tenderly as you slow dance around the kitchen, the moonlight streaming in through the window.

His hands roam up and down your back as he holds you in a warm embrace, your heart racing in time with his.

His hands cup your face, caressing your cheeks as he gazes lovingly into your eyes.

His hands worship your body, featherlight touches on your skin leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake. 

Sanji treasures his hands, and he uses them to treasure you.

↳ masterlist

[defire]

"He's scared."

[sidekick pov, gang, prisoner, humiliation]

"What do you mean he's scared, sir? he just flipped you off."

Boss smirked and walked toward the victim, nodding as their captive tensed and glared up at him.

The boss gave it a few seconds, then quickly lifted his hand and snapped his fingers beside the captive's cheek.

The prisoner flinched so hard he actually grunted in the expectation of an impact. Then again, Sidekick couldn't fault him for being wise enough to expect boss to slap him. The kid had been slapped plenty of times already in the last hour.

"See?" Boss said. "He expects me to beat him. But he doesn't even move to defend himself."

Far from it, Sidekick realized. The captive had a death grip on his own belt loops like he was trying to strangle the fight right out of his thumbs.

"And he doesn't defend himself because he's scared." Boss said. "Aren't you, boy?"

"Fuck you," the prisoner started.

This time boss did slap him, soft enough to be indecent rather than cruel. The boy flushed and bent nearly halfway down.

Boss gave sidekick a look. It meant,

Cross me and you'll get the same.

[hoshinasblade]

i woke up sad today and im also super stressed at work so im taking it upon myself to make other people miserable too, hence this drabble -

"it has to be me", hoshina declared, in a tone that reflected his strong will. "if number 10 wanted me to use it as a weapon, i'll do it." regardless of the consequences, he intentionally omitted. he didn't need everyone in the room to hear what is already a known fact.

the emergency meeting lasted 10 minutes, and as soon as it concluded, the oak doors opened with a loud bang, the high-ranking officers of the anti-kaiju defence of japan pouring out. hoshina soshiro, the vice-captain of the third division remained on his spot, unmoving. "hoshina -" captain ashiro approached him with a concerned look.

"commander, don't look at me like that", hoshina responded, a smirk on his face. captain ashiro would have complied, but she's known her vice-captain for year to see when he's faking confidence. "i'm tough to kill", hoshina said, dismissing himself.

retiring to his quarters, hoshina relished the small privilege he was given - it would be embarrassing to break down in front of other people if he was sharing a dorm room with his teammates. he laid down the mattress, the soft surface giving in to his weight. he did not bother to take his uniform off.

it was an hour or four before he decided to do something. the clock read past 10 pm. you're probably taking a shower. he took his chances.

you always pick up. and tonight was no different. even the mere sound of your breathing was sufficient to set his insides afire. "i miss you."

it's ridiculous even for him to realize that his feelings could be summarized in three one-syllable words. he closed his eyes, imagining that he was not holding his phone in his ear, that you were with him instead. your presence would effectively solve the majority of his problems.

"how was your day?" you whispered softly. if hoshina concentrates hard enough, he could see your lips part while you're talking. the hole in his chest grew more and more by the second.

"they're converting number 10 as a weaponized suit. they're making me wear it." hoshina wished he was not speaking to you about this.

"isn't that dangerous?" your reply was quick and straightforward. you were familiar with the protocol and you weren't even an officer.

"i could die." once the truth was out of his mouth, there was no stopping it. "it could significantly shorten my lifespan if i use the suit too much."

hoshina had always been proud of his skills as a competent swordsman - he's survived and made it this far with his blades despite most people advising him to give up. he's never cursed his own lack of power until now. if only he was strong enough, maybe he wouldn't need a suit to be able to fight better.

"then -" you started but paused and hoshina could tell you were steadying yourself. . "then don't use it too much", you suggested. in normal circumstances he would smile at you - flattered that you are worried about him, pleased that you care. but now everything from you simply feels like tiny crumbs of affection, and hoshina settled on being a beggar.

"would you cry for me when i die?" hoshina heard you gasp on the other line.

"i'm hanging up now", you exclaimed without saying goodbye. the silence after that was deafening, but even then hoshina kept his phone on the side of his face, listening. "i wanna see you tonight", you spoke at last.

"would it make a difference?" his voice cracked but he didn't care. he was exhausted of pretending he was doing alright without you, in making himself believe that his love reaches you where his hands couldn't.

he said your name once more and it felt like a knife was being twisted within him.

"don't you dare do this to me," you threatened. "wait for me there, okay?" you added this time, pleading.

hope is a greedy, grasping thing and hoshina soshiro let it take hold of him fully.

"i will."

[arislore]

˚ ༘ ೀ⋆.˚જ⁀➴ Breakfast Arguments

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Author!Reader

Summary: Spencer gets cocky about something he doesn't know for once.

Warnings: some agitation

Tags: this was my first ever drabble! it was much harder than i was anticipating. bigger text under the cut.

Word Count: 100

“You know, for a genius, you don’t know nearly enough about the sexual dimorphism of sea faeries,” you tell Spencer, who rolls his eyes.

“Just because you use fancy terminology doesn’t mean you know what you’re saying,” he quips back.

You slam your fork on the table, your eyebrows raised. “How many degrees in folklore do you have, again?”

“I don’t see how that has anything to do with this.” He leans back in his chair, crossing his legs.

You groan, stabbing your fork into your eggs angrily. “I think you might have been lied to about your IQ level.”

[mikibaby94]

Ready for round two!

~

Luigi was just trying to get his brothers hat back, but the bully had other plans. One hit was all it took for Mario to get involved. Chased down from school, they were at a dead end. Mario whirled around throwing his arm in front of his little brother he snarled as his eyes met the bully's

If anyone's' getting punched its going to be the bully with the bat. He's got one shot! Mario thought. Glowering at the bully he silently challenged him.

"M-Mario, maybe we shouldn't-"

"I got this Weegie, nobody hits my brother and gets away with it." Mario scowled, squinting his eyes, his left eye twitching and throbbing from its hit prior. "Come at me!"

"Id listen to that little shit brother of yours." The bully spat, the bat he held lifted in the air before landing in the guys palm, a threatening grin shown on his face, though Mario wasn't phased nor was he good a listening to really anyone, especially when it comes to his little brother.

Mario glowered at the bully, "I was never the one to listen, so shut up and fight or put the bat between your legs and leave us alone."

That snapped the bully up straight curling his lip a growl surfaced through his throat. "You asked for it Mario."

Mario made a humph sound. "Finally."

"Mario please-" Luigi begged but Mario wasnt listening, the events from earlier replayed in his head making his drive increase, he's making sure that bully's face feels just as much pain as he does.

Fists up, Mario got into another fighting stance, standing in front of his frightened brother.

Ready for round two

Guess i made a small story with this, oops lol

[letters-unsending]

60.

Hero and Villain get caught in a time warp. They return, but have discovered that the public has seemed to misconstrue their relationship in their absence.

////

Hero stood, hands on his hips, before the painting. The placard below the piece titled the work: A Final Embrace.

“Quite captivating, isn’t it?”

“We didn’t look like that, did we?”

The painting highlighted Hero’s hand, laced through Villain’s bloody hair as he drew their foreheads together. He vaguely remembered that part. Adrenaline and time travel had surely jostled his memories, but even then, had Hero really clutched Villain’s shirt like that?

Had his gaze been that focused?

“Well, the artist likely took liberties to make the piece more evocative.”

Hero looked to Villain as he spoke. His profile was serene, his lips slightly upturned. He took pleasure in knowing more than Hero due to his earlier return to the timeline:

“Who’s the artist?”

“A bystander, most likely.” Villain shrugged.

Purposely vague, Hero noted. Villain appreciated details above all else. He’d likely found the artist’s name, job history, and wiki page immediately after seeing the piece.

He turned back to the painting. The background was a chaotic swirl of purple and black, which enfolded a glowing ring—the portal. The brilliant light of the portal cast their joined silhouettes in stark relief and lit the blood and sweat crowning their temples.

“It’s beautiful.” He mumbled, taking it in. It hadn’t felt beautiful at the time.

The painting placed Villain hand near Hero’s cheek, sweeping a tender smear of blood over his skin. Hero reached out and ghosted his hand over his face, trying to recall the touch, or the exact depth of Villain’s eyes.

Lost, Hero looked toward Villain, whose gaze was already upon him. Villain’s brows creased softly.

“Does it alarm you?”

“The portal? It’s in the past now.” Hero smiled. “I don’t mind seeing it.”

Villain hummed, fingers thrumming at his sides. He stepped closer and carefully stretched his hand over the side of Hero’s face.

“I meant this,” Villain adjusted their thumb so that it mimicked the painting’s placement, “does this alarm you?”

[starrylevi]

Yet another super short but cute and silly comfort Drabble 💟

“My mind is too loud right now.”

“Yeah? Tell it to shut up.”

“I can’t.”

Levi walks over to you, his fingers tilting your head so his lips are level with your forehead. His hands are cupping your cheeks. “Listen, I need you to give her a break. She’s doing her best.” He states sternly, speaking into your forehead. You giggle at the action; you’re always surprised when Levi is silly like this. But that’s because around others, he’s stoic. But with you, he doesn’t mind letting loose and joking around.

“Am I though?” You ask with another chuckle.

“She’s doing her best.” He repeats, softly this time, to your forehead.

“Okay.” You relent with a smile.

“Good.” He presses his lips to your forehead, planting on a gentle kiss on the skin. His love will always be louder.

[dsnzfb]

hello it is time for me to come right outta the woodwork!!

in the lovely snz oc server i'm in, we did a secret santa with a twist??? so like we received prompts to write about our ocs with from someone else, we don't know who wrote the prompts

anyways, surprise surprise i wrote about cactus and rose!! they're in my brain and they're gay and they're KISSING

only a short one this time! less than 1k words (i really struggled this time uuuuu.....)

It does not have a title, but it is cac centric, the cause is pepper, and he knows about rose's kink here

Today was a rare occasion.

Rose, since he owned a flower shop, didn’t have many days off of work, and Cactus tended to have the morning shifts at the local coffee house at least 5 days a week. It wasn’t necessarily set days, though, so lining up weekends where they were both free was difficult.

It was during one of these rare occasions that Cactus found himself waking up early in the morning, his body’s natural clock forced this way by his shifts. Looking over at his boyfriend, with his red hair splayed over the pillow and dozing the morning away, he decided to make breakfast. Why not treat him?

Shuffling out of bed and replacing himself with a pillow in Rose’s arms, Cactus made his way to the kitchen and sleepily started grating potatoes. He felt like having the warm embrace of potatoes to get him through the day, and rostis were one hell of a way to have them. 

After squeezing out the liquid, he left the potatoes to dry and made himself a coffee while waiting.

A sip, then a sigh. This was the domestic life he imagined when he was younger, making coffee and breakfast for the one he loved. A spice mix to coat the rostis was in order for sure, but with Rose’s tolerance to spice, he had to make two.

“Lessee… Paprika, uh… garlic, onion powder… chilli and cayenne for me… yeah, that’s good…” he murmured to himself, pulling out each one from his spice rack, then salt and pepper. Half asleep, he didn’t pay attention to the slightly loose lid on the pepper, probably from when he had refilled it previously and gotten distracted when screwing the lid on again. It's easy for that to happen when you've got a man like Rose in the kitchen, of course. Far away from the actual cooking, but a distraction all the same.

He lifted the pepper, adding it first to the two bowls out of habit, tilted, and shook. His reflexes didn't kick in until it was too late, and a cloud of pepper dust had been thrown into the air thanks to the spill.

“What the- the fuck-!” He coughed, stepping away from the scene. Oh, it burned, and it was making his nose itch. 

“Huh…” 

No, don’t sneeze. Don’t sneeze. Rose was still asleep. ‘It’s not often he gets a weekend off, so don’t ruin his lie-in.’ Cactus thought to himself, rubbing his nose roughly. Not that it helped, instead making it worse for him.

“H-Hhuh…! HHrrTSHHhh! HggSSHhhTT! Ugh, damn it, fuckin’ burns… Why can’t I control myself?”

Unfortunately, stifling only served to intensify the tickle in his nose, not expelling the irritant at all.

“HhHHRSHHH! HhaAHTSHH-oo! Ffffu-huhh-hhuuUUSSHOOO-! gGHHTSSHOOoh!”

“Goodness, bless you, dear.” A light, smooth voice came from behind him. Cactus jolted, rubbing his nose again and sniffling as he turned to look.

“I, uh… Did I wake ya? Didn’t mean to, m’sorry…” There was guilt in the blond’s voice as he spoke. His partner laughed.

“You did, but I certainly don’t mind this sort of alarm. Is something wrong, though? Have you caught something? It’s a little early in the year for your hayfever to start kicking in, and your son is still asleep in his little bed.”

On hearing Rose’s voice, and as if he understood English, a small meow came from an oversized bed in the shape of a burger.

“Well, was asleep.”

“Hhuh-ahh… Can’t believe he slept through tha-hhaa-haaat… hHHRSSHOOO! hhaATSHHOOh! HHuh… huh… hhaAASHHOO!”

Rose took a few steps forward and closed the gap between them with a hug.

“Bless you, you’re awfully sneezy this morning…”

“I, uh… was gonna surprise you with breakfast, but…” he tilted his head towards the mess in the kitchen, “The – hiiiih!! – p-pepper…”

“Bless you.” The brit didn’t move as he saw Cactus gearing up to sneeze again, well aware of what was about to happen.

“hhaAASHHYOOO!!! Oh my god… Thanks.”

“Pepper spilled everywhere? Oh, sweetie, and now you’re all like this because you wanted to do something nice for me…” He cooed, stroking his boyfriend’s tight curls, “Let me wash your face for you. What were you making?”

“‘Tato rostis, uh… Or I was tryin’. Now the whole kitchen iih… hiih… is…. Iihhss… hhaPTSSHHYUUUu!! …Is a hazardous zone.”

“Do you want me to help-” “No way. With the greatest respect, babe, you don’t exactly have the best track record when it comes to cookin’. And I don’t want… whh… hhRRSSHHhh!! …Want you to get all like this. When it’s settled, I’ll… I’ll keep makin’ breakfast.”

“Bless you, sweetie. The thought’s all that counts, and you know I don’t mind this.” “Thoughts don’t getcha fed.”

Rose rolled his eyes, “Well, then we can just have it a little later. How about I take you to a room that isn’t all peppery?”

Cactus blinked in confusion, head tilting.

“...The bedroom, sweetheart.”

“Ohhhh. Heheh, I guess this is a nice treat for ya? It… Ugh, gonna sneeze agai-hhaaiinn… hhRTTSHHOOoh! ITSSHHOOO!!”

In lieu of blessing him, Rose pulled his boyfriend in for a kiss, hot and needy, full of want. Taking his arm, the hitching american was dragged back to the bedroom they’d both not long left.

They’d still yet to actually clean the pepper, which would be an interesting task later.

For now, though, loud sneezes mixed with louder moans as Rose enjoyed his morning treat.

[good-beanswrites]

what if es snapped? they should be allowed to be a little insane towards the audience and/or the prisoners.

(im thinking like: either obsessively checking to see if the prisoners are dead to an unhealthy extent, ignoring what the prisoners say (thinking of them like voices), and/or just randomly passing out and denying it) (OR: do whatever !! :D)

Ah yes, our perfectly healthy and normal warden! Aasfsd this was so interesting to write, there’s so much going on for them this trial… I really loved all these ideas (I’m a little insane over them mistaking the prisoners for the voices omg 👀) but I went with the good ole panic attack and passing out 😎👍

“Warden-san, are you, um! Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m fine.”

“R-really? You look a little pale, like –”

“I’m fine, Haruka!” They snapped at the empty room.

Es really was fine. Grief manifests differently in different people, after all. Some people cry, some people get angry, and some people have little lapses in memory like this if they don’t get enough sleep the night before. Hallucinations probably happened to everyone. Es tugged at their shirt collar, trying to get a breath of coolness after the incident. They were fine.

Muu’s absence from her cell irked them in its inconvenience, but mostly just confused them. The majority of Milgram’s occupants preferred to stick to their own privacy these days, themselves included. They left the room, thinking how ironic it was that Muu would leave her hiding spot the exact moment they wanted to ask her about the prisoners’ deaths.

They peered in the neighboring room to ask Fuuta if he knew her whereabouts, and maybe some of their original questions about the incidents. Conversations between them remained as tense as with the others, but at least he’d give them the straightest answer of the group. 

They froze, met with only dark space through the bars. Then they let out a short sigh. Yet another lapse in memory – of course he was with Amane.

Back past Muu’s cell, their quickened steps took them around the panopticon. As hard as they tried to keep their eyes fixed ahead, they couldn’t help but glance into the stillness of cell number five. Cell six was just as desolate. Their pulse raced when the next room’s occupant was missing as well. They pulled at their uniform again – they’d have to confront Jackalope about turning up the temperature in here.

The clicking of their boots grew louder as they rushed the next few paces to Amane’s cell. Es’ breath caught in their throat – it was empty.

“Amane? Fuuta? Muu?”

They tried to remember the original trip out of their room. Had they seen any of the prisoners? Their head spun. It was mere minutes ago, but they were having trouble remembering. 

Why did they come here in the first place? They had a question. A question about death. Images of swinging fists and desperate tears rose up in their mind. They saw crazed eyes and bloodied hands. Were those others’ hands, or their own? Their voice raised.

“Is anybody there? You answer your Warden when they speak to you!”

Es grabbed onto the next set of bars with a rattle. Then the next, then looping around the panopticon entrance to the first few cells. Nobody.

Lightheadedness washed over them. Everyone was gone. Were they also…?

“Answer me!”

They lost all pretenses of their authority, taking off at full speed and throwing open the creaking doors at each stop. They started calling names as loud as they could muster through a squeezing throat. 

Every single prisoner under their care had disappeared. This was their fault. Tears prickled their eyes. They didn’t mean for any of this to happen.

The echoing concrete bounced their desperate cries back at them. It hardly sounded like their own voice. What did they sound like, again? There were always too many voices…

Heat pressed in on their ears, muffling all sound around them. It crawled to their throat, making it impossible to breathe. Their hand clutched at their chest. The floor teetered under them.

Whatever had happened to the others, it was happening to them, too.

They tried to make it to the next cell – they’d lost count of whose they were approaching – but their legs gave out before they could. Their cape knotted around their arms as they tried to catch themselves from sprawling on the ground. Darkness swam at the edge of their vision. A pounding around them sounded like footsteps or their own heartbeat or something breaking. They wheezed in air.

Their lips mouthed, help, but no sound came out.

Then the world disappeared around them.

---

“What happened?” Muu poked her head around the tight gathering. Everyone had run ahead at the commotion, but her new uniform meant she always arrived last. “Are they okay?”

“They will be.”

Slipping into the group, she found Kazui carefully gathering up the heap of cape of limbs that was their Warden.

“They’re burning up,” he muttered. “I’m going to bring them to their room, they need some rest.”

“I heard them calling for Muu.” They were calling out for the others, too, but everyone’s expressions told that they didn’t need her reminder.

“A fever and an outburst like that… I think all the stress is catching up to them.” Kazui unfastened their cape, placing it aside as he hoisted Es up. Their hat tumbled back to the ground, rolling to Muu’s feet.

She stooped to grab it. She picked up the cape through her sleeves as well. “Why didn’t they just come talk to us?”

“I’m not sure. We eat at the same time every day, and that breakfast bell is difficult to miss.”

Mikoto frowned. “They’ve been pulling some all-nighters in their room. They must have lost track of the time. I’ve been there myself – it’s crazy the things you can miss when you’re like that…”

The room fell into silence, everyone guiltily watching Es' frail frame shrink into Kazui’s arms. Muu spent so much time fearing them this trial – between their fury upon hearing about the deaths, and the intimidating silence they fell into once the news sank in – she sometimes forgot just how small they really were. 

She didn’t know why she followed Kazui to Es’ quarters, or lingered so long after dropping off their cape and hat. Her uniform prevented her from helping as he laid them on the bed, but she still watched as he settled them onto the perfectly made sheets. She wondered the last time they’d actually slept there.

Kazui checked their temperature again, giving Muu the opportunity to stare a moment too long at their sleeping face – pale and clammy, devoid of all strength but little bursts, which appeared just long enough to spasm in pain, altogether exactly as Rei had looked – before she turned away with a jerk.

“They’ll be okay,” she pretended to reassure Kazui. “They will be…”

[kabr0ztrousers]

i really liked your work on the husband (tying the knot) getting stuck together, and the overstimulation element! Do you think you could do a femdom reader drabble when the mood strikes? Any monster is fine, just the idea of them tearing up and drooling, whimpering for more when really, all mc wanted was like a cup of sugar from her neighbor or a friendly ride home from a coworker. Maybe too friendly, now that she thinks about it.

Kabr0z Writes Episode 80: What's a drabble?

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

CWs: None! This one's probably not even R rated

A/N: I had no idea what a drabble is so I looked it up, a drabble's a 100-word flash-fic. Barely a paragraph. On the one hand, that's nowhere near as long as I normally do. On the other, this is the first one of these in a long time that's taken less than 4 hours to do. Enjoy the following exercise in sexual tension, normal pornography resumes tomorrow.

#########################################

You only came for some sugar. You could see the effect you had on Felipe. The bag shook in the tall vulpine’s hand.

His lips were open slightly, exposing his upper teeth, taking your scent. You knew you were ovulating today, so did he. You leant over as you took the bag from him, your baggy t-shirt showing him your tits as you did.

He was still smelling the air, breath rapid as a thin strand of drool hung from his barely-open mouth. You turned to leave, swaying your hips as you walked away from him.

You’re such a tease.

#########################################

I'll probably write a feature-length follow-up to this one if I get another dry spot in requests, or if someone asks me to. Probably won't write too many of these either, seeing as the request is the same length as the story...

WTF do I even tag this with?

[charliesangel67]

Midnight Literature Conversations

⚠️ Warnings: Nothing! Pure fluff 😊 English is not my first language so please do not hesitate to let me know if I have any grammar faults.

Pairings- Bucky Barnes x Fem reader

Word Count: 460

Twisting and turning in bed for hours on end had finally convinced me that I wouldn't be getting any sleep tonight. So I decided to go down to the compound kitchen and bake. Baking was my comfort. I always baked a heartfelt banana cake or made a bunch of chocolate chip muffins when I was down.

Reluctantly getting out of bed and putting on my gown, I trudged out of my room, down the hallway to the kitchen. Turning on the dimmed lights, I spotted a figure sitting at the island counter. Upon closer inspection, and rubbing away the sleep from my eyes. I realised it was Bucky.

He had never talked to me. And I had never talked to him either. Steve always told me that he would speak up when he was ready, but since it had been over a month that Bucky had moved into the compound, I just assumed he hated me.

Without another word. I grabbed the milk, eggs and butter from the fridge, setting them down on the table. Along with the flour, apples and cinnamon. Taking my phone out of my pocket, I quickly googled an apple and cinnamon muffin recipe.

Every now and then, I caught Bucky looking up from his book, and eyeing me as I was mixing the ingredients, and making the batter. Eventually, I put the muffins in the oven to bake and sat down next to him.

“What book are you reading?” I spoke up, in a whisper.

“The Hobbit” He replied with a blank expression.

“You into the classics, huh” I said, surprised at his choice of literature.

“I read it when it first came out, in 1937. But it wasn't available in Brooklyn, where I'm originally from. So I had it imported from Cape Town in South Africa. And I managed to get one of the first 100 signed copies.” He responded enthusiastically.

“Wow. So you really like reading.” I added, not expecting the ex super soldier to be so talkative. Especially towards me.

“Yeah. It's my comfort thing. When I have nightmares or if I just want to shut the world out. I read.”

Suddenly leaping up from my seat next to Bucky. I walked over to the oven to take the muffins out. Placing the hot tray on the table, I grabbed a plate from the draw and placed a muffin on it. Sliding the plate over to Bucky.

“You should try it. It might be a bit hot but I'm sure you'll like it. The others love my baking. Especially Sam, He seems to really love my Chocolate Scrolls” I laughed off as I walked back to my room. Looking back for only a second to catch the super soldier smiling back at me.

Read pt 2 here

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

(please consider reblogging for a better poll size 🫂🫂🫂)

[zolo-san]

when I'm writing either physically or on a computer, I really need people to mind their business

[smol-and-trashy]

Dual POV vore thing

Idk it wasn’t Twisted Wonderland related until it kinda became. Imagine whatever smug character you want tbh. The only TWST ref is the character’s name

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He had her.

As her tiny form slipped down his throat, he traced her descent. Following the slight bulge from beneath his chin to the crest of his collarbone.

Reclining in the chair, its front wooden legs hovering as his feet rested on the table for balance, he hummed.

Beyond savoring her taste, the sensation of her plunging deeper into his core was undeniably delicious, delectable.

As she pooled into his gut, her immediate squirms and muffled words were met with casual indifference. He pressed the flat of his fingers to his belly, grinning as a flurry of movement occurred in retaliation.

Sure, he’ll release her eventually, but for now, he was going to have some fun with his little toy.

••••••••••••••••••

Plus a prey POV, let’s name her Yuu lol

The asshole actually swallowed her. As Yuu slid down his throat, she was in a shocked trance. Sure, he was playing around with her, raising her above his open mouth and whatnot but she didn’t think the oaf would actually swallow.

Squeezed down his tight gullet, it felt like the world’s most claustrophobic water slide. Yuu dropped into a more open space, the walls dripped with liquid, constantly moving, and the stale odor of past meals made her irritably kick at the nearest wall.

Unbridled chuckles closed in around her, hurling Yuu across the confined space. Her nails dug into the floor, trying to grasp some semblance of stability as she shook off the dizziness. Nerves grated, anxiety fried — she lashed out, hitting and scratching at the walls. Yuu’s entire body was drenched and sticky, courtesy of the oppressive mugginess of her surroundings.

With her hair clinging to her face, Yuu swore she would make this bastard pay the moment she got out of here.

[iamthecomet]

for the smut prompt game! 12- "I trust you." with Dew and Phantom? (if only one character is allowed I'll go with Phantom but these prompts feel more like there are supposed to be two so i just went with two by default)

Thanks, Scout!

"Are you sure about this?" Aeon looks at Dew. Knelt before him. Head tipped up, silky golden hair french braided down his back. Aeon tries not to think about wrapping it around his wrist, about pulling on it. Not yet. Dew blinks at him. Molten eyes narrowing as his brown furrows. Aeon catches the barest hint of an eye roll. He doesn't know what to do about it. He's not familiar with having Dew at his feet. Much more comfortable the other way around. With Dew's sharp grin pummeling him into submission. He feels out of his depth. He isn't sure about this. But Dew smiles up at him, eye roll a distant memory. He'd asked for this. Dew had dug his fingers into Aeon's forearm after their last show and said he needed help. He needed something only Aeon could give him. Aeon can feel the fizzle of quintessence right below his finger tips. The pulse of magic, ready to slip into Dew's body. To sink into his muscles, his brain, his blood. I want to drop. Dew said simply, matter-of-fact. Too easily for what he was asking. I need you to make me. Dew puts both of his hands on Aeon's thighs, strokes his thumbs high, almost brushing over where Aeon is getting chubby behind his zipper. Despite the worry that he'll do something wrong--he has to admit seeing Dew like this is nothing short of stunning. He looks so pretty on his knees, and when Aeon tells him as much, Dew preens. Grins. That same devious one Aeon has gotten used to seeing used as a weapon. "I trust you," Dew whispers. He leans forward, drags his tongue over Aeon's zipper. Judging by his raspy chuckle he feels how hard Aeon has gotten, feels the way his cock kicks beneath the distant warmth of Dew's mouth. Aeon reaches down, puts one of his hands on the side of Dew's head, framing an opalescent horn. He holds Dew's gaze. Dew's trust, he's learned, is hard earned. But he doesn't see anything else in those copper eyes. A hint of desperation maybe, devotion certainly, and trust that Aeon knows how to use his powers well enough to give Dew what he needs. "You know what to do if it's too much," Aeon asks. And Dew rolls his eyes again. Aeon will have to think of a way to punish him for that, another time maybe. When he feels less like the one who's head is stuffed full of cotton balls. Dew doesn't answer--the eye roll is enough. Aeon doesn't push. Instead he lets his magic bleed from his fingers. Cool and fizzling. Dew sags. Eyes rolling, but this time not in annoyance--in relief. The groan that falls from his lips is one Aeon will replay in his head for the rest of his time topside. "Yeah, fuck," Dew mumbles, "more." Aeon does as he's told. Dew sags further, presses his forehead to Aeon's hip. The noise the flood of quintessence rips from Dew's throat is enough to make every ounce of Aeon's anxiety worth it.