#this is kinda bad but it's just a drabble

[itneverendshere]

tryin' to behave, but i'm feelin' some type of way - r.c drabble.

request: rafe x bitchy!pogue reader pleaseeeee!!!! he just hates that he wants her soo fucking bad and she finds it hilarioussss

warnings: it gets steamy but no smut!; slutshaming; they both need therapy okay.

felt like writing something out of the bartender!reader universe and had this request saved up on my notes, hope you enjoy 🫂 wrote this on my phone so if there’s any typos pretend you didn’t see them 🥰🥰🥰🥰

you’re out of place here, which is exactly why you’re here, tannyhill.

fuck them. fuck him.

every high-strung kook princess with their perfectly manicured nails gives you a quick once-over, nostrils flaring when they catch the sight of your scuffed-up boots. not that you care. it’s not like you’re trying to impress anyone.

and why should you? you’re only here for the free booze, it’s not your fault this place is such a bore. always all pearls, pastels, and the scent of white wine and privilege. who the fuck drank white whine at a party? but the real reason you’re here, the whole damn reason, is staring straight at you from across the room.

rafe cameron. ugh and yum.

he’s leaning against the bar, muscles taut under that fitted navy polo like he was born to flex, with a scowl as always. it’s always that look—the one that’s aimed solely at you, every time he sees you. it’s practically a tradition by now. you show up somewhere, he glares.

there’s a tightness in his shoulders, something tells you he’s going to snap eventually, maybe it’s because you’ve been pushing buttons lately. maybe it’s because he’s got his daddy’s expectations hanging over his head like a guillotine.

or maybe it’s just because he wants you, and that little inconvenient truth pisses him off to no end.

you flash him a slow, lazy grin, shifting your hips as you grab a beer from the cooler. when you catch the way his eyes drag over you, lingering on your exposed skin, your stomach hums with satisfaction.

let him look. let him stew in it.

“country club,” you call sweetly, raising your bottle in a mock toast, the light catching on the condensation like it’s winking at him. “how’s it going?”

his jaw ticks, his lips pressing into a thin, flat line. “you shouldn’t be here.”

“and yet, here i am,” you sing-song back, taking a slow, pointed sip. you’re feeling reckless tonight. he’s dangerous, sure. but he’s also predictable. you know exactly how to make it worse.  “aww, what’s wrong?”

you know exactly this’ll go. he’ll insult you, you’ll insult him back, and then—

his eyes narrow dangerously, that vein in his temple ticking. “what the fuck are you wearing?”

you blink innocently, glancing down at yourself. “clothes, obviously. why? does it bother you?”

“yeah,” he snaps, eyes raking over you again, lingering on the swell of your chest, the sliver of skin peeking out above your waistband. “aren’t you tired of slutting yourself around?”

your lips curl into a smirk, the slow burn of satisfaction warming your chest. this is exactly what you were hoping for.

“slutting myself around?” you echo, voice teasing. “didn’t know you were keeping tabs.” you cock your head, letting your gaze linger on his flushed cheeks, the way his nostrils flare, and that slight clench of his fists by his side.

he’s seething—looks ready to burst into flames right here in front of the bar. good.

he’s always been like this with you. short fuse, especially when it comes to what you’re wearing, how you look, where you go. but you’re onto him. you know what it’s really about.

“you must really be obsessed with me,” you continue, “it’s kinda weird, don’t you think?” you take another sip, slow and deliberate, licking your lips as you meet his glare. he steps closer, crowding into your space, his chest brushing against your shoulder. you should back up, or at least pretend to care, but you just tilt your head, looking up at him with a smug little grin. “what’s wrong?” you murmur, “feeling a little tense?

“fuck off,” he grits out, stepping back like he’s burned. but it’s too late. you’ve got him now.

you cock your head, giving him a slow, taunting smile. “why? afraid you’ll get hard in front of your little friends?”

his eyes darken, jaw clenched so hard you wonder if it hurts. “i swear to god—”

“what?” you interrupt, teeth flashing. “you gonna hit me? break another one of your daddy’s toys?” you wave your hand around the pristine room, the glittering chandelier, the polished bar. “go on, then. show everyone what a psycho you are.”

“you think i won’t?” 

“yeah, i think you won’t,” you say softly, staring right into those burning blue eyes of his. “because you’re all bark and no bite.”

“you wanna see bite?” he murmurs, voice dripping venom. “i’ll show you fucking bite.”

then his hand snaps out, wrapping around your upper arm, and before you can react, he’s yanking you out of the room, down a hallway that’s all shadowed corners. you stumble, cursing under your breath, but he doesn’t stop until you’re both crashing through a side door into some empty back corridor.

“jesus, cameron, take a fucking xanax—” you start, wrenching your arm free.

for a second, you think you’ve gone too far. his whole body goes still, and something flares in his gaze—something unhinged and a little bit terrifying. but instead of snapping, instead of throwing a punch, he leans in, so close you can feel the heat of him against your skin.

you’re shoved against the wall, hard, his body caging yours in, his hands braced on either side of your head. you freeze, breath hitching. he’s close—too close—and it’s too hot and too much and—

“shut up,” he growls.

you should tell him to fuck off. you should knee him in the balls. you should do anything but feel the way you do right now—flushed, breathless, and…too horny for your own good. 

“do you always have to be so fucking dramatic?” you huff, placing your hand in chest in a futile attempt to push him away. you know he can break you in half if he wants to. 

he doesn’t move of course, just stares at you, chest heaving like he’s just run a marathon. he’s got that crazed look in his eyes that should make you run for the hills, and yet you stay put.

and then, suddenly, his mouth is on yours, demanding and angry.

it’s not a kiss—it’s a punishment. his teeth nip at your bottom lip, his tongue sliding against yours with a harshness that steals your breath. you gasp, your hands coming up to shove him away again, but somehow they get tangled in his hair instead, gripping the soft strands as he presses closer, closer— it’s a disaster. you’re a disaster. because you don’t pull away. 

you kiss him back like an idiot, just as desperate, your nails digging into his scalp as you pour all your frustration into the kiss. why does he have to be this hot? in your books, kooks aren't allowed to be hotter than a 5. unfortunately, rafe is a solid eleven.

he tastes like mint and rage, and it shouldn’t feel this good, but it does. god, it does. he breaks away, panting, glaring down at you like you’re dirt under his shoes. “you drive me fucking insane, y’ know that?”

“good,” you gasp, licking your lips. “you deserve it.”

he laughs, a low, harsh sound. “you’re such a fucking bitch.”

“and you’re a spoiled, narcissistic asshole,” you snap back, shoving at his chest. he doesn’t even flinch, just glares harder, and it sends a thrill through your entire body. you’d never seen him like this, so unguarded and it was weirdly intoxicating. 

“i should ruin you,” he murmurs, almost like he’s talking to himself. his hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw, trailing down your throat. “make you beg.”

you keep your expression defiant. “you think you can?”

rafe smirks, slow and dangerous, and it makes something burst in your belly. “i know i can.”

his hand slides lower, fingertips brushing the hem of your top, and your breath catches. you should stop this again. you should slap him, kick him, do anything but let him keep touching you like that, but you don’t. you just stare up at him, heart racing.

“show me then.”

and then his hands are on you, yanking you forward, spinning you around. you gasp, palms slapping against the wall as he presses up behind you, his body solid against yours.

“you’re a fucking brat,” he growls, his mouth right against your ear. one of his hands comes up, fingers tangling in your hair, pulling just enough to make your back arch.

“and you’re obsessed with me,” you shoot back breathlessly, tilting your head to meet his gaze over your shoulder.

rafe’s grip tightens in your hair, hard enough to sting, and his lips brush your earlobe, “obsessed?” he repeats, like he can’t believe you had the fucking audacity to say it. “don’t flatter yourself, baby.”

but you feel the way his body presses against yours. your panties might be drenched but this man is just as hard. he’s close to you—so fucking close—you feel every ridge of him, and despite every insult he’s ever thrown your way, despite how much he claims to hate you, he’s here. the way he’s breathing tells you exactly what you need to know. 

you twist against him, pushing back just enough to test his restraint. “then why are you so worked up, huh?”

“i think you’re confusing us.”

“sure,” you laugh, even as his hands move down your sides, his fingernails digging into your hips. “that’s why you dragged me out here, right? because you’re just so indifferent?”

his chest brushes against your back with every ragged breath. he’s losing it. you’re making him lose it. and fuck, that feels good.

“i could ruin you,” he whispers again, like he’s trying to convince himself. his hand skim up your ribs, thumb grazing the underside of your tit, and your senses kicks into overdrive. “one word from me, and you’re done.”

“you’re all talk cameron,” you challenge, arching your back slightly, giving him more room to touch you.

you shouldn’t want this—you shouldn’t need this—but you can’t stop. 

his mouth is on your neck, hot and open, teeth scraping against your skin in a way that sends a shudder from your head to your toes.

“fuck you,” he growls against your throat, the words almost lost in the heat of his mouth. “i’m not playin’ your games.”

you bite back a moan, fingers curling against the cold wall. “you’re already playing.”

“you’re so fucking—” he cuts himself off, breathing harshly through his nose. “fuck, i hate you.”

“no, you don’t,” you turn your head just enough to catch his eye. his gaze is wild, and you smirk, taunting him with your lips just inches from his. “you wish you did.”

you know you’re pushing your luck, but then again, when haven’t you?

“you have no fucking clue what i wish,” he growls, each word dripping with so much frustration it makes you laugh.

it comes out like a soft, mocking sound. “ooh, i think i do. you wish i’d shut up. wish i’d disappear. but you really wish you didn’t get hard every time ’m around.”

his jaw ticks, that telltale sign that you’re getting to him. god, he hates you. you can see it in his clenched teeth, his furrowed brows. he hates that he wants a pogue and you find it hilarious.

“don’t flatter yourself pogue,” he snaps, but his voice is strained. his hands tighten on your hips, fingers biting into your skin just shy of painful.

you push back against him just a little harder again, feeling the rigid line of his cock pressed against your ass.

“yeah?” your voice turns breathy. “then why do i feel that?” you grind your hips subtly, just to punctuate the point, and the low sound that rumbles out of him is almost worth the risk of provoking him further.

“because you’re a fucking tease,” he mutters, voice harsh and low in your ear. “you show up, looking like you want it—”

“and so what if i do?”

it’s a dare. he’s holding you, like he can’t decide if he wants to strangle you or fuck you senseless, perhaps both. you know you’ve crossed some invisible line.

“you’re gonna regret this,” he murmurs.

“maybe,” you shoot back, unflinching. “but that’s the thing, rafe.” you twist, just enough to look at him over your shoulder, “i think you’re more scared of what you might regret.”

instead of shoving you away, instead of storming off, he does the one thing you didn’t expect. he laughs.

it’s that crazy sound he makes before he does something reckless every time, the kind that makes people run away. it’s such a humorless sound, it should scare the living shit out of you as he leans in, lips brushing against your neck. “don’t say i didn’t warn you.”

before you can answer, one hand slides up to cup your jaw, tilting your head back so you’re forced to meet his eyes. they’re wild, almost feral, just like you expected.

“tell me to stop,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, the touch so gentle it’s almost jarring. “go on, say it.”

you swallow hard, pulse hammering in your throat. you should say it. but you don’t want to.

“make me.” you know he hears you—feels you—because the corner of his mouth lifts in a slow, taunting smirk.

“yeah?” he drawls, thumb slipping from your lip to trace along your jawline, his touch featherlight and maddening. “you sure?”

“prove me wrong. or are you scared?”

“you think ’m fucking scared of you? think i can’t handle a little mouthy brat like you?”

he’s goading you, pushing you like he always does, and every word you had prepared dies on your lips 

“i’d loooove to see you try.”

“oh, you will.”

[slashingdisneypasta]

Beetlejuice x AFAB!Reader || Drabble+Smut

Plot: You bet him he couldn't leave you alone (stop harassing you) for even one day, not realising that he would take winning s o seriously, but he's a stubborn old fuck so now its been weeks, and he still wont give in. And well... now you kinda miss him. Ironic, huh?

Warnings: Smut. Reader is DOWN BAD, FED UP AND WANTS THAT PERVERT DICK. A little daddy kink, panty stealing, creampie (WRAP IT BEFORE YA TAP IT. Especially with this guy 😅 We dunno what he has 😅), at points its even kinda f l u f f y?? I tried to connect with different facets of Beetlejuice 😅🤣 XD Unedited.

"Stay fucken still." That raspy voice sounding a hundred shades of pissed o f f creeping directly in your ear, as well as the boner you're sitting on, do absolutely the opposite to what he wants. They do not deescalate anything- in fact, you just feel even more turned on. Jesus christ, who knew it would only take 2 weeks no-contact for you to find him attractive.

But-- b o y, do you see it now.

Yeah he's mucky, but thats part of it?? The harsh mossy stubble and forearm hair (When he rolls up his sleeves), the deep greasy racoon bags around his dark beady eyes, the crazy hair that will not be tamed, everything. You know its kind of fucked up, but you have never wanted someone so bad. And if it weren't for that stupid bet 2 weeks ago-- you would have him! Goddamnit. You and your big mouth.

"Come on BJ," You urge softly, using the tip of your finger to guide his face towards you even as every muscle in his face fights to stay strong and remain stern- and most importantly, avoid looking at you. "Look at me." The ghost with the most hadn't looked at you since he accepted the bet, afraid of seeing you and immediately losing. Immediately being unable to keep his nasty eyes- hands- mouth, off of you.

He's been so strong. So boneheaded-ly strong.

Meanwhile you've been going crazy thinking about him stuffing you with his cock and then keeping your dirty underwear after.

Now sat atop his lap, face-forward, you intend to get him to look at you again and break his resolve. If it is the last thing you do tonight. Or for the week.

"I am lookin' at you." His face barely moves; the words coming out forced and humourless. No tone at all. But you can feel his cock painfully hard stretching the seam on his pants, and your underwear. Probably an embarrassing wet spot, too. "Whadaya mean."

You're so close he can surely feel your warm breath on his face. Giving his nose a cute little brush with your own, you feel his dick twitch in his black and white striped pants and a slow grin worms it way onto your lips. "No you're not... come on. Please, BJ?" With round eyes, you pout a little. "I miss you."

With that, he gives a frustrated and animated groan, and finally looks down from just past your head- to your eyes, causing a delighted smile to slip across your face. "Come on now baby- thats not fair at all. Come on."

You throw your arms around his neck as a familiarly slimy, hot, sex-crazed grin spreads across his grimy mouth. That wild look that apparently you love appearing in his eyes again, looking down at you- all over. Licking over your pretty willing body with just a look. "You didn't give me a choice!!"

"Hey, hey, hey- you bet me, sugar- "

"Hey. You gonna take your chance and fuck me, or not?"

He shrugs. "Well when you're right, you're right." Then he kisses you open-mouthed and all-tongue and just how you imagined he would kiss, and swallows any giggle you were going to give. Along with all your thoughts.

~

Neither of you can bring yourselves to perform any foreplay- even though you want to. Want to enjoy this; grind in his lap a while longer, feel his tongue in your cunt, tease him with your lips warm and tongue damp over the top of his pants- But you're more then wet enough already, the fabric of your underwear sticks to your pussy lips, and his obviously rock-hard boner fights to tear a hole in its confines. You'll have time for all that fun stuff later, anyway.

You barely have time to properly taste each other's tongues for the first time before his greedy fingers are digging under your skirt, underneath your underwear, and slipping easily right into you. Too easily, shit. He gives a filthy groan, getting 3 of his fingers good and drenched in your slick; feeling your pretty cunt squeeze 'em. "Fuck, honey, I think this is the best pussy I ever had."

Breathless, you give a giggle; forehead pressed into his shoulder at just the feeling of his fingers invading you; hips juttering slightly into is hand. "You haven't even had me yet."

"Lets fix that, then, shall we? Now."

Your fingers go down to the button on his pants and eagerly, with deft fingers, undo it. He's not wearing underpants, predictably, so you just have to reach in and carefully finagle his fat cock free. Then you swipe a finger over the insanely leaky tip for fun and watch his head fall back against the wall, listening to the wildly horny, gutteral groan come out of him at the feeling.

He clicks his fingers and your underwear disappears. You see it reappear in his hand a last time, just before he shoves it in his jacket pocket; flashing you a cheesy grin. "Souvenir."

When finally, finally you sink down on his gross cock you both let out sighs of utter satisfaction. 2 weeks was a hell of an edge.

You're almost happy to just sit there with him stretching you open, milking him with your pussy, but when he shifts his hips, just getting more comfortable and laying his hands on your hips, the movement sparks a change of mind. "BJ... " You wrap your legs more securely around him, around the back of the chair he's sat in, and lift your hands to grip the lapels on his jacket. Your eyes meet his very dark, lusty ones. Just watching you; a little scary and a little smug and a little pussy drunk. "... fuck me."

"P l e a s e?"

"Please, daddy."

His eyes roll into the back of his head and dramatically huffs, making you giggle. "Oh fuck, baby, you really know howta murder a guy." With all his strength, he pulls himself back together; straightening up again. "Alright, alright- hold on, daddy's gonna take you on a ride."

You open your mouth to respond, but before you can even make noise, you blink and you're in another position entirely. Off the chair now, you find yourself pressed against a nearby wall, your legs still wrapped around him and his cock still throbbing inside you.

While you're feeling dizzy from teleporting, Beetlejuice pulls almost all the way out of your messy cunt and thrusts all the way back in- hard. He does it again. Then the pace picks up and he's pounding you into the wall at an inhuman pace that has you hiding your face in his shoulder again and knotting your fingers tight in his greasy hair.

Your orgasm builds up at a record pace, due to all the build up. It would be embarrassing, if he wasn't fighting not to paint your insides already himself. "I gotta- I gotta be honest, sweetie, I- I don't think daddy's gonna last long in this cat. Not this time. The way you're suckin me in- Ughhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh fuck. Pullin' my hair- Damn, shit, Fuck!- " Finally, BJ mashes his groin against yours and holds himself there; cumming hard inside you.

That causes your orgasm, rolling your hips against him and riding it out, making him shudder out a sigh. A vulgar dopey grin flickers across his jawline and black teeth.

... After a few minutes of heavy breathing- you catching your breath, and him just 'livin in it', enjoying the feel of breather meat for a while longer, you finally pull yourself together and raise your head carefully off his chest. "Um... " Suddenly you feel awkward. But not uncomfortable. You give a small, tired smile. "I don't know what to say?"

"... " He ducks down and presses his forehead to yours, and you're fooled for just a moment that this might be a sweet moment. "Uh. How about 'you win the bet, handsome?'."

Quickly you swat him, laughing. "Oh- Never!"

[7-wonders]

Literally, if Calliope held my face and gave the affection that’s described in World We Dream About, I would fucking die. All I can think about is how the reader could only wonder how Morpheus would ever separate himself from someone as tender, gentle, and utterly radiant as her-

(Read more of my Calliope/Morpheus/Reader stuff here!)

"Can I ask you something?"

You're sitting in the gardens of the palace of the Dreaming with the Lord of Dreams himself, who slowly looks up at you over the top of his book (some report on a nightmare doing who knows what) like you're a nuisance. You know that's not the case though, since he's the one that sought you out and invited you to join him.

After your...memorable first meeting with Morpheus, followed by a tearful goodbye with the woman goddess who had been your roommate for the past few months, you had never been expecting to see either again. They were important beings of myth and legend, after all—you were just a regular human. Practically nothing compared to them! That's why it was so surprising when you went to sleep barely a week later and found yourself face-to-face with the Sandman once more.

"I owe you a boon, whether you believe yourself worthy or not," he said. "And I imagine that you have many questions relating to the information you received that fateful night. Therefore, you may ask me your questions, and I shall do my best to answer them."

He was right, of course. You did have questions. So many of them that it almost made your head spin when you tried to think of the first one that you wanted to ask. But ask you did, and he dutifully answered each and every one of them.

It was definitely appreciated, and you felt that the conversation gave you a lot of answers and closure to this chapter of your life. In your mind, it was the end of a chapter. Calliope was gone, off to Greece and Mount Olympus and her sisters with no sign that you would ever see her again. Morpheus had deigned to meet with you once more, and now that his perceived obligation was fulfilled, you expected that to be the end of any sort of magic in your life.

But then you saw him again.

And again.

And again.

Now, you see him at least once a week. Each time, he comes to you in your dreams, and each time, he acts as though he's simply being charitable by offering Calliope's human friend some company. You know that's not the case, though. No, Morpheus will never admit it, but you think he's lonely. And now that you both have a shared person, that gives him a connection with someone...even if that someone is the mortal that his ex-wife found herself accidentally belonging to in what you can say in retrospect was a true comedy of errors.

"You just did," he points out cheekily.

You remain unamused and roll your eyes. "C'mon, you know what I mean."

He nods. "I do. Continue."

"Please don't answer if it makes you uncomfortable, but I'm curious. Why...why did you and Calliope break up?" How did you manage to so severely fumble the bag? is what you really want to ask. "I mean, she's Calliope."

What you mean by, "she's Calliope," is, of course, that she's Calliope. Beautiful and kind, wise and strong, charming and witty, and a whole dictionary's worth of other characteristics that can only hope to capture who she is. You had never met a person like her before, and you doubt you'll ever meet somebody like her again.

Most mortals wouldn't dare to speak to an Endless like you just did. Unfortunately, prior experience has made you bold, and you know now that Morpheus is begrudgingly fond of you and therefore won't smite you if you overstep. Somewhere along the way, you stopped feeling so wary of the Dreamlord. Now, you like to think that your relationship is something close to a sort of friendship.

(If you're being honest with yourself, lately your feelings for Morpheus are complicated, as are your feelings for Calliope. That's a conversation for another day, and it definitely does not factor into your current conversation, thank you very much.)

A small, small smile plays on his lips, Morpheus understanding exactly what you mean. "Yes, she is. We were both much younger in the days of our marriage, if one as young as yourself can believe such a thing."

You appreciate that he's trying to find a bit of humor in what is assuredly a heavy moment, so you smile encouragingly at him.

"Mistakes were made by both of us throughout the course of our relationship, myself more. Ultimately, it was..." Morpheus pauses, and when he speaks again, it's much quieter. "In the end, the loss of our son proved too much for us to overcome together."

Well, now you feel bad. Calliope had only talked to you about Orpheus a handful of times, but with what little information you have, you know just how loved he was by his parents, and just how devastated they still remain by what happened. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have asked."

He shakes his head. "When last we parted, Calliope suggested to me that it would be wise for us to talk about Or—our son together. That remembering him might help to be able to properly grieve." Morpheus says that last word like it's foreign to him. It probably is, actually. "I am starting to find that she is right."

"She's right a lot. It's kind of annoying," you commiserate.

This helps to break the heaviness that talking about death (not Death) and loss brings, and Morpheus lets out a breath in his version of a laugh. "She does tend to be right fairly often."

Now that your question is answered and you know that you didn't just ruin his day, you gesture towards his book. "Okay, I won't bother you anymore, promise."

"You are not nearly as bothersome as you believe yourself to be." He gets a look in his starry eyes when he says this, one that conveys there is much more being left unsaid within this single sentence.

His confession makes your chest feel warm, and you try not to act as pleased as you are. "I'll endeavor not to change that, then."

[teddybeartoji]

a heavy sigh falls from your lips.

"i'm jus' having a day."

satoru huffs. "you're telling me... that you're having a day... aaaaaaall by yourself, handsome?"

you don't need to look at him to know that he's wiggling his eyebrows. dummy. faintly shaking your head, you try to brush his stupid comment off but your lips have a mind of their own, so used to a smile that they're already twitching upward. and satoru being satoru, he takes it as a very good sign to continue. "i can't believe the love of my life is having a day – without me. betrayal, i tell you, absolute betrayal."

he throws himself onto the couch right next to you, thighs touching. no inches between you.

"stop..." you whine. "let me have my day..."

"no way, baby. we're having a day." tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and he whispers — "together."

when you turn to face him, your noses touch. he never did know what personal space is but it's not like you mind (you love it). he looks into your weary eyes, hiding his frown. he nudges his nose against yours and presses a quick kiss to it.

"so is it a 'quiet' day or a 'sleep' day or a 'bath' day or a 'film' day or a 'park' day or....?" his voice is so soft and sugary and warm and caring and you immediately get lost in your thoughts. he's so sweet. you're so grateful for him. if you told him to be quiet for the rest of his life, he'd do it. it'd be very fucking hard but for you – he'd do it without a second thought. and now he's here, asking you what kind of a day you're having. he would've probably wanted to play video games or make-out or go bully suguru but he won't even bring it up because he can see that it's not the right time for that. and you're so grateful. what did you do to deserve a boyfriend like this? a boyfriend who's so ready to put your needs above his, always and forever.

he observes you in your little mind palace, your eyes are little zoned out and it just might be the cutest thing. he places his hand on your thigh, gently pulling you back to him. he doesn't say anything, only giving you a reassuring smile. you love him.

"a 'quiet' day, i think." your head falls against his shoulder with a soft thump.

"okay."

pressing his soft lips to your forehead, he draws hearts on your back.

a quiet 'sorry' tries to hide inside the crook of his neck, burrowing itself into his hoodie. he catches it, though. like always.

"sorry for what?"

"this."

a rumble in his chest, you feel it so clearly.

"you're sorry for having a day?"

an incoherent mumble is his answer.

craning his neck, he tries to look down on you. a finger finds your nose and boops! it, making you sink deeper into him.

"my baby."

it's like honey – the sweetest coo in the whole wide world. he pours it all over you, covering you in his love, sticking you to him. you don't mind (you love it).

"never ever ever ever apologize for that stupid shit again, though."

...

and there it is — a snicker. not a full laugh but it's enough.

"like - damn, you really are dense sometimes, baby." he whistles, earning him a punch to his chest. and a smile. he's getting there.

"what the fuck is wrong with you, satoru?" sitting up straight, you force your lips into a thin line (it's so hard to not smile around him). "i'm over here begging for mercy for being, oh, i don't know, vulnerable, and you tell me that i'm dense?"

hastily you stand from the couch, leaving satoru staring up at you with a big grin. "what a good boyfriend." you scoff. but your words mean absolute jack shit to him, it's like water off a goose. he's never been more in love. he sees another twitch of your lips and he knows he has you.

turning away, you're ready to make a bit of a scene, ready to stomp your feet, ready to forget everything about your day but you can't. an ungodly strength has you glued to your spot because satoru has other plans. his fingers wrap around your wrist, easily pulling you straight down onto his lap. he mumbles a quick 'the best boyfriend' before attacking you with a quick press of his lips to yours and a smirk and you know you're fucked. this wasn't your plan. this is bad. this is extremely bad. you know what he's gonna do and you can't do anything about it. no, no, no. you were supposed to stomp away and wait for him to come hug you from the back, being all cuddly and cute — this was not the plan.

it's his ultimate power move. tickles.

you hate him.

(you love him so much that you fear your heart will literally explode every time you're around him).

and then his fingers are running all over your sides, laughter bubbling from your throat, no matter how hard you try to hold it back. he manages to hold you down and torture you at the same time, it's unforgiving (and impressive but you won't tell him that). tears brim in your eyes and he can't stop looking at you.

this is how you should look all the time. not the tears in your eyes, of course, but the smile. oh, the smile. from one ear all the way to the other. the corners of your eyes crinkling. he can't wait to grow old with you and see the smile wrinkles, these'll definitely be one of his greatest achievements. he's so serious about it.

luckily, he doesn't keep it up for too long, letting you catch your breath – your head falling back onto his chest, right above his heart.

"you're such a dick."

"you love me so much, i'm surprised you haven't proposed yet."

another weak slap against his chest and he laughs. loud and full of love.

a comfortable silence. his hands rest on your waist, soaking in the feeling of your skin, the feeling of you on him, your heart so near his. you trying to get a grip and he's enjoying his time with you. he could be watching paint dry with you and he'd love it. he hopes you know that (he needs you to know that).

"we can still do a crying party... if you want." his breath tickles your ear. "i'll cry with you."

you're so grateful.

snaking your hands behind his neck, you pull him close. "thank you."

"anything for you. everything for you."

[ancha-aus]

RealAgeAu Drabble - Shopping

I am back at it again because I had ideas. (don't worry friend @spotaus things are being planned and I got many many ideas :3 but before those happen stuff needs to be established and put in place!)

I was debating between like four different drabble ideas but settled on this one. Something calming for a bit :)

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

as always. No editing and no beta.

*-------------------*

Dust shoots Killer another glare as he holds Nightmare clsoer "I mean it Killer. get out of my blindspot. It is getting annoying."

Nightmare looks from Dust to Killer and sees the large grin on Killer's face as he skips after Dust and Nightmare "Nah. I think it is good i am here because it is your blindspot!"

Dust grumbles as he holds Nightmare clsoer. Nightmare just pushes his skull under Dust's chin as he listens to the two bicker. Dust gives him a quick nuzzle before shooting Killer another glare "Why are you even here?" Killer still has a large grin on his face "I am backup!"

Dust groans "I am getting Nightmare clothes."

Killer nods as he follows them "backup!"

Dust huffs before looking back at Nightmare. Nightmare sees the glare disappear from his face as Dust lets out a sigh before smiling at Nightmare "makes you start to wonder who helped who out of getting stuck in a wall."

Killer gasps loudly "That only happened a few times!"

Ngihtmare grins and laughs as he leans fully against Dust again. He likes being held by Dust and Dust must like it too because he always holds him.

Nightmare figured it was because his spine is fragile and walking for too long starts to bother him but Dust still just holds him. always. Maybe he also likes being close like this?

Thoguht Nightmare isn't sure what Dust gets out of it but he must really like something abut the close contact.

They walk past another few people who look at them. Nightmare shoots a glance as Dust and Killer continue to bicker. They seem to shoot Dust and him worried looks but chuckle once they realise that Dust and Killer are just doing their way of bonding.

Nightmare always thought the flirting between those two was weird but then again he thought most things dating was weird. Maybe because he was still a child in his soul...

Not that it matters.

Nightmare shoots a glance and spots Killer grinning widely as his soul is clearly in soulshape and looks stable. Dust may have an annoyed look on his face but he has a tiny smile on his face.

Nightmare hides his face in Dust's sweater but he can't hide the purr. He wants them to be happy. They are happy even with him near.

Dust notices of course nad gives him another nuzzle "comfy? Spine okay?"

Nightmare nods "Yeah."

Dust hums to signal he heard him but still rubs his back.

They finally stop near one of the smaller houses which is the clothing shop for this town.

Dust tilts his skull as Killer snorts "oh that is adorable. ready to dress Nightmare as a tiny old man?" he grins

Dust shoots Killer a glare "It isn't that bad..." then he looks at the store "just... a bit old fashioned..." he looks at him "That okay?"

Nightmare nods before shrugging "I don't get why i need new things..."

Dust sighs. Killer leans on Dust's other shoulder and shoots him a wink "Because you are still wearing Dust's things. and quite honestly. Dusty does not have a large enough wardrobe to dress both of you."

Nightmare frowns as he pushes clsoer to Dust. He doesn't mind wearing stuff them them. It are things that are well worn and soft and smell of them and old laundry detergent.

Dust nuzzles his skull "It will be nice. You can check what you like and what feels nice and is comfortable."

Nightmare frowns "it is expensive." which is another reason why he doesn't want to get anything.

Dust frowns and Killer quickly answers "That is a worry for us. And Dusty said it is fine so it is fine." he grins.

Dust nods "made some money. more than enough to get you some things."

Nightmare wants to disagree more but Dust walks into the store.

The inside isn't like he thought it would be. there is actually quite a number of nice looking things and looks more modern than you would think from the outside.

DUst makes a pleased sound before smiling smugly "Seems like they were just showing off the knitwear because it is autumn." he shoots Killer a look "Almost as if i did my research and knew it would be okay here." and he walks further into the store.

Killer sputters before following them "I know that Dusty! You always do that! I was just joking around!" he pouts but doesn't offer anything. Really just a shadow. It reminds Nightmare a bit about how it was before. Killer beign his right hand and always by his side to help and protect him. It still feels different now and even when thinking back to those memories they feel different.

Killer spots him looking at him and grins before wriggling his phalanges in a tiny wave at him. Nightmare huffs and pushes back closer to Dust.

Dust is looking through some clothes on the hanger "Stop bothering Nightmare." he pulls something off and looks it over critically. he holds it up for him to inspect and Nightmare just shrugs.

Killer pouts as he crosses his arms "Just having fun. And tiny boss is fine with it!" he grins at him "Right nighty?"

Nightmare shrugs. he doens't mind. it is nice.

Dust rolls his eye lights and doesn't look at Killer "Even if he is fine with is safe it for later. first buying clothes. Then you can tire him out."

Nightmare huffs and grumbles. he doesn't need tiring out. he is perfectly fine. Dust holds up another sweater and he shrugs again.

"Oh hello there dears! Can you find it all?"

Killer nad Dust turn and Nightmare feels Dust freeze for a moment. Yeah not a surprise because the woman looks a lot like Toriel. But Nightmare doubts it is the her of this universe. The closer he looks the more this woman seems like a sheep monster.

Killer and Dust must see it too as Killer grins "Pretty much! but we got it!"

Dust shoots him a look "Killer knock it off." he looks at the lady "We are looking for stuff for the little guy."

The lady smiles sweetly "Oh! You two must be two of Sans- I am sorry, Crop's friends!" she looks them over and her gaze lingers on Dust for a moment before settling on Nightmare. Nightmare can't stop the instinct of holding on tighter to Dust. He doesn't like having stranger's gazes on him.

The smiles sweetly "I can see the resemblance! You must be very proud of such a young handsome little boy!"

Dust looks to the side and shrugs but his hold on him tightens. Killer snorts, which is fair as they aren't actually related. Maybe she just sees the resemblance before Nightmare now looks much more like a tiny swap sans, as that was the original form his mother used to craft their bodies. And Dust is the one of the four that still resemblance who he used to be.

At elast Nightmare assumes that is why people think they see a resemblance. That or they are just racists and think all skeletons look alike.

the woman smiles "I am sure there is something fitting for him. Do you need any help?"

Killer's laugh turns cold as he smiles widely "No thanks! We got this!"

Dust rolls his eye lights and nudges him in the side "Stop it." he looks back to the lady "I was wodnering what the... organisation was. I wanted to look at stuff his size..." and he looks at the things he had been looking at with a glare.

The sheep monster looks a bit paler after Killer's interaction but smiles sweetly at Dust. "It is a bit of a mixmatch. Of all the stuff that is handmade it only has a few of each size. you will have to guestimate those. The imported clothes are by the walls, those have more standard sizing."

Dust nods "I see." and he starts walking towards the side first to check the sizing.

Killer grins as he leans close and whispers "Holding a babybones does wonders for making you look approachable"

Dust shoots him a glare and hisses "One word and I will put you in a wall myself." and he stomps over towards the clothes.

Nightmare still doens't understand why Killer thinks that kinda flirting is efficient but what does he know.

Dust is clearly unimpressed with the clothing offered with the more standard design and fabric. but they use it to figure out which size he is before moving towards the handmade stuff.

DUst and Nightmare check what is nice and soft as Killer shadows them. Staying nearby and pretty much glaring at anyone who as much as glances in their direction.

They end up settling for two big sweaters and some sweats. They wait by the cash register as Dust has picked him up again.

The nice woman smiles at them "That will be 140!" she smiles.

Killer winces at the price and Nightmare pushes closer to Dust "I don't need two." wool sweaters are expensive...

Dust shrugs as he looks at Killer "Be usefull and hold him for a moment." and Ngihtamre feels hismelf be handed over to Killer. Dust takes out some cash from his inventory and counts quickly before putting most of the stash he had on the counter "That should be enough." he stashes whatever is left.

The lady counts it and smiles as she puts it away. She packs it in a bag and holds it out to Dust "Thank you for shopping! And Can I just say it is lovely to see such a devoted father."

Dust shrugs and mutters a thanks before shooting Killer a warning look.

Killer grins as he nuzzles Nightmare "How are you this huggable tiny boss?"

Nightmare shrugs but holds unto Killer. Killer is also nice to be held by.

They leave the store together and walk back towards the parking lot. Something about meeting up again to go back to Crop's farm. Nightmare isn't really sure. He is already getting tired again adn he mumbles unhappily.

Killer purrs and coos "It is okay tiny boss. babybones need their sleep and rest after all."

Dust nods "Shopping is always busy." he shoots Killer a glare "Why is why i didn't want you to get him tired or overwhelmed."

Killer groans "Yeah yeah you were right. you are always right. can i go back to nuzzlign the baby now?"

Dust looks considerate before nodding "You may."

Killer grins and the nuzzles resume and Nightmare wants to pout and push him off but it is so nice and he can feel himself start to relax as he starts to purr again.

He likes it when his family holds him.

*-------------------*

First Drabble Prev Drabble Next Drabble

[luvxiem]

rabies... probably — shu yamino

› pairing: shu yamino x gn!reader

› word count: ~500

› genre: fluff

› summary: shu's friends find it both hysterical and slightly concerning over how... feral you get over your boyfriend. shu decides to confront you over it after one too many teeth marks were left on his skin.

if there is one thing about you, it’s that you don’t fuck with your friend’s partners. you’re not dating them so why would you care what they do? as long as they treat your friends right and they’re happy, their relationship is none of your business. your boyfriend, on the other hand, is ALL of your business. this includes his friends.

when shu first introduced you to his friend group, you were quite nervous. he holds them in high regard, and you wanted to make a good impression on them. needless to say, the meeting went fantastically and you’re happy to say that you’re able to call them your friends now as well. however, with friendship comes being progressively more and more unhinged the closer you get. shu’s friends were no exception and are unfortunate witnesses to your more… feral moments.

this brings us to now.

shu squints at you from across the living room, purposefully keeping the couch in between you two to work as a barrier of sorts.

“why do you keep biting me.” the way he says it makes it sound less like a question and more like a statement. you blink at him innocently.

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you deny. he crosses his arms and your gaze immediately snaps to his biceps (they look particularly delicious in that tight t-shirt of his). shu notices where you look and sighs.

“babe, even luca has mentioned it at this point. you can’t keep doing it in public—i don’t understand why you even do it.”

you stare at him.

“i'm literally obsessed with you.”

the resulting flush is worth the loss of your dignity. shu spins on his heel in an effort to compose himself, but you can clearly see the bright red blush on his cheeks as he struggles to contain his obvious glee. clearing his throat, he turns back to you and schools his expression.

“right. that's kinda cringe, though. why are you being parasocial?” he deadpans. you narrow your eyes at him and he sweats.

“we’re literally dating. you're my boyfriend. if i wanna be obsessed and parasocial with you then i will. in fact—” the way shu’s eyes widen in surprise as you vault over the sofa will remain in your mind for days to come for how hilarious he looked.

“babe, NO—” his voice cracks as you bite into the flesh of his arm. “stop biting me!” he screeches, but with how hard he’s laughing it’s difficult for you to take his request seriously.

releasing him from your mouth, you reach up to pull his face down so you can kiss him. he shuts up real quick with that.

written — 231127

[the-last-quest]

Light tw: needle/pericing

“Ay ‘old still It ain’t gonna hurt that much lad.” A red cat pirate said, flicking the back of the head of the young fox that sat in the chair in front of her.

“I’m just nervous, that's all. Don’t see why we need to do all this.” the kit said rubbing where he was flicked.

“Don’t be daft there ain’t no way the captain’ll let ye on board without the charm.” She placed her hand on her hip looking down at the fox. “If ye can’t take a little poke are ye sure ye can take a life on the sea?”

This seemed to get the fox to straighten up. “Just do it already.” he huffed, sitting up in the chair.

The lady chuckled at the bravado of the boy. Grabbing a hold of his ear she readied the needle in her hand. “Righty then here goes nothing.”

That was all the warning the fox got before said needle went straight through his ear. He yelped at the sudden pain. The elder pirate held down his shoulder, preventing him from getting away as she removed the needle and inserted the charm into his new piercing.

“See now it wasn't that bad.” She said, removing her hand from the fox’s shoulder giving him some light pats. She walked around the chair, crouching down to meet his eyes.

“Now listen here lad. This charm here is to cancel out the curse ye have understand?” She paused, waiting for an answer. After a moment the fox gave a small nod. “Now come on, ship’s leaving dock soon and we don’t wanna be left ashore do we?” She held out her hand which the fox took. Helping him up she started to lead them to where the ship was docked.

“Are ye sure the captain’ll let me join the crew?” He asked as they drew nearer to the ship, the large frame leering over them.

The cat let out a laugh. “Captain’s always sayin’ we need more hands and with all yer little doodads he’d be a fool not to let ye stay on board. And with that neat little charm of yers he can’t even say yer cursed cause of those two tails.” She wrapped her arm around the fox, pulling him close to his side. “Now come on laddie if you wanna be parta the crew ye gotta to learn to pull yer weight.”

[elvenbeard]

~ Beach Day ~

[farfaras]

“But Daddy, I love him!” Steve cried.

“You don’t. Stop this nonsense, Steve.” His father growled. He faced him and stepped closer. Cradled his face. “You deserve better. It’s my job to make sure that you get that.”

“You don’t even know him.” A single tear fell from his face.

“I know enough.”

“You’re being so unfair.” Steve whispered. His father not approving his and Eddie’s relationship hurt more than he thought. He was hoping they’d at least tolerate each other.

“I just want what’s best for you.” He kissed Steve’s temple and walked away.

“Invite him over for dinner tomorrow.” Steve turned his attention to his mother.

“What?” Steve asked.

“I can see how happy he makes you. Maybe he just needs to get to know him.” His mother offered. Steve couldn’t help thinking of all the ways that could go wrong.

“Yeah, maybe.”

[hellfirefucker]

Ok but imagine foster dad Steve Harrington (With foster dad Eddie and crazy aunt Robin ofc)

Steve moves out of his family home and moves to an even bigger house. At first, something doesn’t feel right even after he and Eddie do their best to make it feel like home. He’s always thought that there was something missing but he couldn’t figure it out.

That’s when he has the brilliant idea to start fostering. The home is perfect to have kids running around and would give it life. When he proposes the idea to Eddie, he excitedly agrees. They would be the perfect foster parents.

When the first kid comes in, the two don’t know how to approach so they are bound to make many mistakes. The kid is young and is obviously not used to being in foster care. Over time though, the three learn to coexist with one another along with Robin who occasionally pops by to take the kid out on wacky adventures.

Eventually more kids come pouring in. Steve is always excited to see a new face and does his best to comfort and support them in any way he can. He tells that he doesn’t want to be like his own family that would leave him to raise himself and that he would do his best to raise these kids to be the best.

There are little traditions that come about in the Harrington household. Birthdays are always loud and rowdy as the birthday person is woken up by loud singing. Breakfast is easy and organized with the kids doing small tasks so they can all eat together. Dinner is sometimes messy but always fun at the table. Family outings are always enjoyable because Steve always plans places that each kid wants to go to just right.

Unfortunately, all the good times can’t last forever and many of his little nuggets either grow up or get adopted. When it is time for a child to go, Steve, Eddie and Robin stay up all night making sure their farewell is perfect. Steve plans a care package filled with all sorts of their favorite treats, a stuffed animal, and trinkets to remember their siblings by along with phone numbers of all the adults in case they want to call or visit. Robin and Eddie make banners and plan party supplies for the farewell party with cake and ice cream, anything a kid could want.

Steve puts on a brave face as his beloved child has to leave him but to send them off, he and his friends take a picture together with the whole family. He does this every kid without fail and has a whi ole wall dedicated to these pictures. He writes their name on the frame along with making sure to highlight who they were with small drawings. He doesn’t want to forget any of his beloved kids because for a short while, they were his but now they must go.

Although his heart breaks, Steve knows he’s done a good job when he and his child cry together in a hug, neither of them wanting to pull away.

He loves his kids like his own blood and he will never forget all the great memories they shared.

This was inspired by my dear friend Kai who suggested the idea of foster dad Steve. Thank you for the inspo!

[itsahotminuteinbetween]

Okay so I'm seeing a lot of 'Sun sucks at cooking he he can't make cereal properly leave the cooking to Moon he's the best at it' in domestic aus

And that's great! I love that idea! But consider the following: absolutely none of you know anything about cooking.

I mean, sure, Sun's been cutting apple slices with peanut butter for so long he's got it down to an art, and his PB &J sandwiches are to die for. Moon's got directions to make tea and applesauce and instant jello for the kids that they share in their headspace. But that's pretty much the limit for their cooking expertise. So put them near a toaster? Yeah, they can figure it out. A microwave? Moon put a fork in it to see what would happen after Sun saw something about it online and got to 20 seconds before you slam into the kitchen and shut it off. And then talk their audio receptors off by scolding them for putting metal in the microwave and being in the kitchen without your supervision.

All you have to send them is a look and they decide to leave the oven alone.

Speaking of your skills...

Well.

While you're no 'master chef', you've picked up enough to scrape by. A few years on your own will do that to you. Compared to what your boys know, you're practically a god in the kitchen.

So you, with your grand total of maybe 15-20 recipes (half of which have cottage cheese or yogurt incorporated into them) are appointed head of the kitchen.

You're really only slightly better than the boys, but you at least know how to turn on a stove. Still, your skill level is really only enough to make the same few meals throughout the week. So, you all decide to figure it out together.

You look up some recipes online, grab some stuff from the store and dump it all onto the counter. The ingredients are nothing you haven't seen before (the boys regard the flour as some foreign and ancient play-doh from the stone ages), but you can't remember the last time you bought some of this stuff.

After you take in the wonders of vanilla extract and brown sugar, you pick something hopefully easy enough that it'll be impossible to mess up. Cookies aren't that hard. You remember making them when you were younger, and they usually came out alright.

You also remember that you were 9 and had adult supervision to make sure you didn't screw up.

And now you're the most competent adult in this operation.

You try not to picture the apartment going down in flames.

It doesn't actually go terribly. You manage to handle it pretty well, all things considered. Moon grabs your wrist before you pour the eggs into the flour, reminding you that you're supposed to do your dries, then your wets, and then your chips. You're pretty sure he only reminded you so he can keep sneaking chips into his cheeks when you're not looking, but you let him have it. You also elect not to say anything when you catch them pouring more chips into the bowl when you're not looking.

Sun spends the entire time obsessing over the shape of the cookies, making sure they're all perfectly rounded and spread out on the pan. Moon wedges a chocolate chip deep into the center of a few of them, watching his brother panic over the now 'ruined' cookies. He gets over it eventually, though, joining his brother in front of the oven to watch the dough rise and expand as the torturous waiting for them to bake begins. You pull out the tray and inspect your work.

They're...not that bad, in all honesty. There are little things that could be improved, but otherwise, you're pretty proud of your guy's progress.

You're not as happy about the mess, though. It looks like a hurricane has stormed through your kitchen, a fact that is quickly brought to the attention of your boys as they scramble to wipe down countertops and toss eggshells away.

...

I dunno how to end this cuz my endings suck so there it is, thank you for attending my ted talk.

[agonizedembrace]

A rapt knock to Evelynn's door comes first, then an undsteady voice of: "Mr. Baudelaire said you requested my presence, Ma'am....?"

In enters none other than Chelsea, the intern who's been the sole cause of many headaches today. On the shorter side, with wide brown eyes and dark hair tied up into a neat bun. At first glance, none would suspect any mishaps to occur from her.

Yet it is Evelynn who clicks her tongue, the golden of her eyes narrowing immediately on the young woman. It would take a fool to miss the irritation she presents, a single clawed digit tapping against a crossed arm along her chest. Her blouse remains messy, hardly buttoned appropriately and her skirt haphazardly snug to her waist.

"I did," she hums, but nothing in her voice is soothing. It is cold as she continues to stare down the intern, nostrils flaring with a deep breath. "Do you know why I called you, darling?"

Chelsea turns, glancing to the door. Strange as it seems to have close on its own accord. "N... no ma'am."

"Of course not." Evelynn all but hisses, shifting her position. Her legs gradually uncross as she lowers her jaw. "Darling, do you think before making purchases?"

A moment of hurt flashes on the woman's face, yet Evelynn is quick to cut her off.

"The answer is no, you do not."

The demon's movements are slow, calculated as she stands, arms that begin to unfold and reach for the folder that resides on the very desk she'd been sitting on. Evelynn takes no note of the horrified expression her intern wears, instead idly skimming the paperwork Robin had worked so dedicatedly on. She does this only for a moment, the room remaining eerie silent before a bone chilling laugh escapes her lips.

Sharp eyes find their way to the woman once more. "Oh, and here I was under the impression you were a good girl, Chelsea." With a fluid movement she tosses the folder to the intern, letting it fall flat on the floor. "Kneel for me."

"W-.. what?!"

"Kneel."

Without giving her a chance, Evelynn steps forward, a hand finding Chelsea's shoulder. There's a gasp, eyes that further widen as the inhumanity of Evelynn's strength shows and down goes the woman. The smile the vocalist wears is twisted, ever eerie as she shakes her head.

"Do you have any idea how much trouble you caused, darling?" Now with a lower tone, Evelynn shifts her hand to cup Chelsea's jaw, forcing her to look up at her. The young woman is granted a view, perhaps entirely sinful as it is terrifying. "Oh, not only did you create such a hassle for dear Robin..."

Trailing off, Evelynn sighs and squeezes her hand, finding delight in the slight trickle of blood. She then coos, slowly bending over and granting an eyeful of her own cleavage. One that she knows is not ignored.

"... which then interrupted my private time with Akali."

"With Akali--"

Chelsea's head meets the ground before she can even utter another word. There's an undeniable look of anger that resides in the golden hues of Evelynn's gaze. "That is Miss. Tethi to you." Her hiss echoes within the room, a twitch to her lip as she steps forward. Soon a heel resides on top of the intern's stomach, pressing down ever slightly.

There's a cry that escapes the woman's mouth, frail and desperate. One that Evelynn feeds off.

"Here's the thing darling; not only did you make an unauthorized purchase -- which, by the way, did daddy always just buy you what you wanted?" Each word is spoken with certain venom, dripping further into a tritone demonic voice that once ago she's been known for. "You crossed the wrong people."

Finally Chelsea breaks out of some trance, Evelynn's charm not taking to its full effect just yet. "I didn't know ma'am! I.. I had thought I was using my personal funds!"

Evelynn says nothing, only shaking her head before she presses her heel further into the human. The scream she receives is nothing short of pleasurable, wholly enjoying the tears that form at the corners of her eyes. "But you did, dear. Robin knows to inform all interns that card is not for online purchases."

Lifting her foot, she steps to the side and kneels on top of her. Her smile continues to grow, far past anything human. Far past for dear little Chelsea to register anything as terrifying.

"You've been a bad girl, darling."

No stranger to the trembling hands that take to her waist, Evelynn lets a wild laugh loose before letting a hand trail up. One that soon brushes past Cheslea's collar, and taking hold at her neck. Now starts the fun part.

THEY ALWAYS SUBMIT IN THE END.

Greedy hands that begin to snake up, desperate to slide underneath her blouse. Blissfully unaware does Chelsea become, to lashers that gather form as Evelynn tightens her grip around her throat. Because oh, all that's on her mind is EVELYNN. How beautiful and hot she looks on top of her.

"You need a punishment," Evelynn whispers as she leans forward, letting the human greed further consume the woman beneath her. The touch on her skin is nothing close to satisfying -- always eager, and never truly appreciative. "Beg for it."

Plump lips that part, brown eyes awestruck of the demon who has her in such a grip. Unknown to the claws that continue to sink into her neck, to the blood that begins to pool around her. WHAT A HIGH, to be granted such a meal so soon.

"Please.." a frail voice, PAINED even. Evelynn hisses in delight, the free meal dripping within her grasp. "Please punish... me.."

Normally Evelynn would further make her beg, to prolong such a feast, but her irritation has gotten the better of her. The canal desire to make home to her girlfriend after this bitch ruined her moment. Her lashers strike first, piercing right into Chelsea's chest and electing SUCH A SCREAM. ONE THAT IS ENTIRELY DELICIOUS.

It is then, that blood sprays. The crimson liquid that begins to stain everything: the walls, floor, her clothes. Oh, the files too. She'll apologize later to Robin. She cares about the NOW, the way the pathetic intern thrashes, so desperate to cling onto her life. It is the DELIGHT in how her hand further clenches, completely blocking airflow. How hands that were once so eager on the demon's body, now hopelessly making attempts to get relief for air.

"SCREAM LOUDER FOR ME!"

Evelynn laughs at her own words, fully aware of how incapable the human is of doing so. Oh, she takes it all in. The way her lashers plunge further, piercing organs. How the pool of blood begins to run so deep. The frail attempts of reclaiming life, the UTTER AGONY this human gives. WHAT A TREAT.

She doesn't last much longer, between the literal chokehold and the fact Evelynn's pierced her lungs now, her air flow is gone. How her heart goes from such a rapid pace....

To a slow beat.

To nothing.

Agony.

A silence soon falls over the room, an eerie calm as Evelynn gradually releases her grip. Lashers that twitch, appearing almost happy as she further create a mess for the sake of it all. It is finally then, that the demon releases a breath she wasn't aware she was holding as she begins to stand.

Her heels are the sole noise in the room now, echoing off the walls as she approaches her desk once more. Instead of ill attempts of cleaning herself, she simply takes her spot once more on her desk, one leg over the other, and lets out a content sigh.

Needless to say, she is not startled by the ever dark rumble from the far corner of the room. The deep purring that seeming grows in volume, before followed by an equally low voice of: "Well done."

[edns]

"Alive..." Short drabble under the cut if you would like to read the story behind this!

“Alive! You are alive!” A silver-haired man ran towards confused Dimitri, tears in his eyes, his face distorted with grief too familiar. Was that another ghost that would haunt him? Even though Dimitri could not remember the man, something about him was so very familiar. Familiar enough for him to not attack immediately. “Halt. What do you think you’re doing?”

The other man stopped, looking confused for a brief moment. He inspected Dimitri, fixing his round glasses. “Ah… You must not have met me like this yet… Not yet.” Dimitri growled. He had no time for all this talking. This could be another imperial spy that was after his head… And yet, somehow, he felt that was not the case. Still, he picked his lance up to be ready to defend himself. “My name is- is Cyrus,” he stuttered as he raised his both hands, showing that he was defenseless. “I am not here to take your life; put down your weapon… p-please.” That stutter… It sounded warm… “It matters not if you are after my head or not. I might as well be a corpse,” Dimitri frowned, his eye locked on this Cyrus. “It only matters to me if you serve… that woman…” His gaze drifted away from Cyrus as he spoke, into nothingness, his thoughts drowned out by a haze of rage, until…

“… Dima.” Cyrus’ voice managed to cut through that haze, like a sharp sword. He looked back up only to see that Cyrus had already approached him closer with a smile, silent tears streaming down his cheeks. “No…” Dimitri’s voice cracked as he stepped away; he moved his lance towards Cyrus, threatening to attack. “I cannot let you get out of here alive…” “No need. I am- I am not leaving.”

Cyrus closed the distance between them, pulling Dimitri into a hug… So fearlessly, as if the threat of a weapon meant nothing to him. Dimitri could not help but drop his lance out of sheer shock… A loud clanking noise echoed across the cathedral as the lance hit the destroyed tile floor. Sobbing into the fur of Dimitri’s cloak, Cyrus squeezed him desperately, leaving him utterly befuddled.

“… This is indeed a first…” He muttered to himself. “For a man unknown to haunt me… and be this kind. How lonely must I be…” Cyrus said nothing to that, sniffling quietly as sunlight of the dawn washed over the cathedral.

[feliciadraws]

"Hmmm..." Ninetails slyly mused as she looked upon Waka's face, her blackened, claw-like fingernail softly tracing his jaw, eyes narrowed, sharp teeth showing in a flirtatious smirk. She had cornered the prophet at long last, hoping to execute the next stage in her plan to usurp sovereignty of Ryoshima Coast and eliminate Queen Himiko, "Lord Yami was right...you really are that handsome..."

Waka was indeed a man of many qualities, among them being his undeniably beautiful face, and was in turn a man of many things, but if there was one thing he was not, it was a fool.

He had already foreseen what Ninetails would do, how she would work her way into the inner sanctum of Himiko's palace, how she would infiltrate her council and in the end bring about the Queen of Sei-an City's demise, and he knew fully well of her demonic nature; even now, as the maleficent vixen stood before him, clothed in her human form, a shape most men would consider beautiful, but Waka knew better, he knew better than to fall victim to the demon's darkly seductive charms.

"You don't think I know what you are? You take me for a fool, madameoiselle...but you of all people should know how outward impressions can deceive..." Waka retorted, a wry smirk forming on his lips as he combated Ninetails's own seduction with a pseudo-flirtatious play of his own, almost as if to mock her. "And you are certainly as quick-witted as they say, Waka...would it be enough to save you, or Himiko..."

Himiko...the mention of her name struck a dagger to the depths of Waka's heart in that moment, an achingly bitter reminder of his prophecy of the demise of the queen who he had come to know as a close confidant, having not just served the Yamatai clan for two centuries but had watched the queen grow from a small child and had grown to be a close friend of hers...Waka's heart ached as it skipped a beat, and yet as he faced the demon he had foreseen to be Himiko's murderer, he had to swallow his pain, push it down so as to not allow the tumultuous storm that bellowed within him to cloud his thoughts in this moment.

Swallowing down whatever feeling had been upstirred by Ninetails' attempts to get under his skin, toy with his mind, he retrieved his flute from his sleeve, and readied Pillowtalk’s blade for combat.

“But…is your own wit as quick as my blade…demon?”

—————————————————————————

TWO FOR ONE ART AND WRITING SPECIAL! I’ve been meaning to draw human!Ninetails attempting(and failing) to seduce Waka for a while, and I had a sudden burst of inspiration again because my human Ninetails has all of a sudden become a bit popular, and I’ve been on a bit of a writing kick so there! Also no I do NOT ship this, not in the least hahaha, I just had this image in my head of human!Ninetails putting the moves on Waka because let’s face it, everyone wants him, me included🥵😂, although Mei is and always will be his Girl ❤️❤️🌸✨

Also big thanks to @genderenvyforwaka and of course @savage-scoundrel69 for drawing the shapeshifting demon girlboss!

[sinnamonstache]

Why has my shipping brain randomly awoke to whisper thoughts of egoplier….? It has been years, my dude

[musecheerios]

May or may not have a kind of.

Fanfic thing. Spike and Cere don't fall in love but it ends with her thinking of him as a friend that she owes a lot to and he's like "...I mean. Nah- you don't have to do anything."

But I just need to write the whole thing, fix some things that don't sound right to me, and then mentally battle with myself whether I should really post it or not. 😂