#word drabble ask

[decino]

@adoracora-elizabeth asked for "Cobert + last kiss".

Cora was the first one to pull away from their long but sweet kiss, then smiling at her husband as she looks up and down at him in his war uniform.

“Be back safe to us.” she said “You and Matthew, most especially.”

“I’ll come running to your arms when I’m back.” Robert smiles.

The train then whistled loudly, and Robert smiles at her one last time.

“I love you.”

“And I love you more.”

But little did she know, that was their very last moments together…

…because it was only Matthew who ever came back.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

“zukuu, you have to stop making faces at him.”

insulted, izuku splutters. breaking eye contact to gasp at you.

“ i wasn’t making a face ! was i..?” he trails off, you giggle, you turn your back to your boyfriend once again to continue wiping down the last of the dishes.

“he’ll pout harder if you keep making that scary face.”

“i-i wasn’t trying to scare him !” your boyfriend exclaims, looking at your baby cousin again and slumping when he sees the pout still fixed onto his face, visibly dimming “i don’t understand what i did wrong..”

“zuku, i already told you. kuma always looks like that. you’ll get used to it.” you reassure, a teasing smile on your face. your boyfriend seems undeterred by your explanation and hides his face behind his hands again, peeking through his fingers hoping to see even the minuscule crack of a smile on your younger cousin’s face.

your aunt had asked you to babysit your younger cousin takuma after suddenly being called in for work and having no one to watch over him for the day. you were free, and agreed to help her out, takuma was a sweet little boy and you didn’t get to see him super often. so the more you could the better ! unfortunately this fell on the same day as when your boyfriend was meant to come over to your house, but ever the loving, helpful boyfriend he is, izuku insisted on wanting to come over to help you out. he gets to spend time with you and get along with a cute baby, that sounded like a great time to him. and not to brag, but kids always seemed to love him.

every kid except for takuma apparently. the little boy’s face seemed permanently stuck with a frown. his eyebrows stood furrowed and his chubby pinch-able little cheeks puffed out, obviously unhappy with izuku’s presence.

you’d tried to tell izuku that this was just takuma’s resting face. that he looked at everyone this way and that it always surprised strangers. but as loving and doting as he is, your boyfriend could aslo be endearingly stubborn. he was determined to get takuma to smile at him at least once today. and now it looked like he was trying peekaboo. you couldn’t help but snort at your boyfriend’s laughable attempts at making your little cousin’s poker face crumble. “aw man, that one usually always works..” you hear him mumble. you put the final plate into your cupboard and turn with a sigh.

“izuku.”

“no no, i got it.” without realizing it, izuku’s brows furrowed in concentration, which your baby cousin unfortunately mistook for a challenge, furrowing his eyebrows even harder and even huffing at him. the nail in the coffin it looks like, izuku gasps, looking at your cousin with a betrayed expression “ ah ! what’d i do ?!”

“you were glaring at him !” you giggle, your boyfriend throws his head back, exasperated. you pull out a chair and sit next to him, giggling and pulling on takuma's pudgy cheek. said little boy does not break eye contact with izuku. you can admit he's acting kind of strange. was he actually going out of his way to challenge him ? the thought makes you giggle again. you turn to look at your boyfriend's pouty face looking at the exchange between you and your cousin.

"i didn't mean to glare at him.." he whines, leaning into your touch when you put your hand in his hair.

"i know."

"i felt like we were making progress."

"i..kinda doubt that," you snort, scratching at his green locks. desperately, he looks back at you wide eyed "but we were i swear ! it felt like he was starting to like me !"

"mhm ?" you break into a fit of laughter, and soon after izuku joins you, laughing softly to himself and shaking his head. takuma blinks at you both in confusion, and it makes you smile harder. seeing you laugh so hard makes izuku smile harder too, cheeks glowing a cute pink.

"i..sound crazy don't i ?" he asks, grinning at you. you pretend to think it over to tease him, and he huffs affectionately.

"hmmm, a little." izuku shakes his head, dropping it in shame as he stares at his lap. he heaves a heavy sigh and it makes you giggle a little bit more.

"i really don't know what i'm doing wrong, babies usually like me.."

"but i told you you're not doing anything wrong, izu." you reach to pinch his cheeks next, he yelps a little. "kuma's only lookin' at you 'cus you're new. he'll get used to you in no time, kay ?" you smile. a beat passes and izuku nods, smiling back at you.

"but i don't know, he kinda looks like he has it out for me.." he whispers, you assume so takuma doesn't hear. how thoughtful.

"yeah i did think it was kinda strange how he hasn't stopped looking at you.."

he drops his head back at your words "i thought so..!"

"but that doesn't mean he doesn't like you, per se..maybe he's just weary of you !" izuku leans back, placing a hand over his chest like he's actually been struck. he looks over at takuma still sitting proudly in his high chair like a king.

"what's there to be weary of ? i'm really nice, i promise !" takuma's only answer is a blink "that's really intense.." you're boyfriend sweat drops, "i don't think i've had anyone look at me like that before."

"shouldn't you be used to being glared at by now since you've known bakugou since you were kids ?"

"i don't even think kacchan was this bad." you scoff, slapping at his sturdy arm. "don't say that, you liar !" your boyfriend laughs to himself. struggling to hold your laughter back as you play fight. you're interrupted by takuma's whine. his poker face finally somewhat melting as he pouts, big eyes going glossy as he reaches out for you with chubby little fingers. you immediately zoom over to the child's side.

"aaww babyy," you coo "you wanna be wif me, yeah ? cuutieeee," your voice rises up an octave. izuku blushes at how cute you look and he hates himself for feeling a smidge jealous your cousin had managed to grab your attention. he shakes his head to rid himself of those childish thoughts.

you hop the baby up in your arms to readjust him, tickling his little tummy which earns you a giggle, izuku feels his jaw drop to the floor so hard if he were in a cartoon it'd make a comically loud clang sound, now he's a bit jealous of you.

"i think he's a little hungry, i'll be right back izu." you press a quick kiss to his cheek before bounding off to go get the toddlers bag that your aunt had entrusted to you in your room. the little contact alone makes heat blossom all the way to izuku's neck and he can't fix his lips to say anything, nodding dumbly.

the last thing he sees before you leave the room is takuma's gaze fixed to him. izuku sends him a determined smile and a wave. he'll win him over soon enough.

[stellamarielu]

I would love if you could write something about drunk Declan coming home all horned up 🙂‍↕️ or meeting Declan in a pub on St Patrick’s day and there’s shameless flirting/ dirty mouth on this man 🍀

pls and ty 🫶🏻

you had me at drunk horny declan!!!! i’m going bezerk rn, like fully screaming a praise of hallelujah from the mountaintops.

quick smutty drabble about horny declan and his dirty mouth after one too many drinks

Declan had been out with rupert and freddie all night celebrating, and you didn’t mind one bit— you liked it when he cut loose from work and had a little fun with his friends. but tonight he’d had more than just a little fun.

You were cuddled in bed, your nose deep in a book when you heard the front door open. The rustling in the kitchen followed by heavy footsteps up the stairs revealed Declan leaning against the doorframe of your bedroom, all disheveled with a love-drunk smile plastered across his face.

“There she is.” His voice held a more-than-tipsy tone as he admired you from across the room.

“Here I am.” You giggled as you closed your book setting it down on the bedside table.

Declan hastily tore his already loosened tie from his neck and shed his jacket, letting it fall on the floor as he waltzed over to the bed. He climbed up next to you, crawling over and pulling you in for a sloppy, impassioned kiss.

“Been thinkin’ bout you all night.” He let his lips wander to your jaw, sucking a spot right underneath your ear— something he knew drove you wild. A sigh fell from your lips causing him to smile in satisfaction.

“Woah there big guy,” You were using all of your strength to create space between the two of you, pushing gently on his chest.

“How much have you had to drink tonight?”

You could smell the whiskey on his breath and hear the way his words stumbled into each other as they left his lips.

You knew drunk Declan when you saw him, and you were also well aware that if he didn't have a glass of water and a full night of sleep he would spend the following day in complete agony.

“Since when does that matter. You keepin’ tabs on me?” He sat back on his heels, a goofy smile playing on his lips as he waited for your response.

“No I just-“

“My sweet girl worried about takin’ advantage of me?” His smirk grew ten times wider as he watched you roll your eyes at his words.

“You need sleep Declan. And a shower, you smell like a distillery.”

“I’ll shower… just let me have a little fun first.” he was grabbing at your thighs and pulling them apart, moving his body between your legs.

You were writhing in his touch, attempting to push him away as his hands pulled at your pajama shorts. You were trying your best to put on a stern face, but you couldn't keep a soft chuckle from your lips at the feeling of his mustache against your stomach as he placed long sloppy kisses on your skin.

“C’mon love, need ya so bad.” His voice was gravely, full of infatuation and alcohol fueled lust.

You gave in, acting in compliance as you let your fingers lace through his curls while he pulled your shorts and panties down your legs.

“Been thinkin’ bout this perfect little cunt all night.” His voice was muffled by the flesh of your thighs as he pressed his face against them, kissing and licking your skin in his inebriated haze.

“Just let me have it baby then I’ll shower and go to bed. Swear, I’ll do whatever ya want, just wanna taste ya first.”

Hearing his words reminded you that Declan had two habits that emerged without fail every time he was drunk.

The first was an unrestrained pattern of affection. He would be all over you. It didn't matter when or where, he just wanted to be near you— touching you. After he got a few drinks in his system Declan became completely and utterly obsessed, shoving the rest of the world away to keep all your love for himself.

And second, he wouldn't shut the fuck up. The incoherent mumbles and run-on sentences that would leave Declan's whiskey-soaked mouth were damn near impressive. He would talk about everything and nothing at the same time, never letting you get a single word in.

So in moments like this; when the two drunken traits came out to play at the same time, you were always amused and a bit turned on. Being the target of his affectionate rambles was a weakness of yours and you would surrender to him every single time.

“Baby…” The word was partially a warning but held the cadence of a beg as you dug your fingertips further into his hair.

“Just wanna make you feel good, s'all I want. All I’ve thought about all goddamn day.” His breath landed right on your core as he pushed his tongue flat against your center, licking a thoughtless stripe through your folds.

You moaned at the sudden contact, your head falling back on your pillow as little hums of approval left your lips with each messy kiss he placed on your clit.

“That’s it sweetheart, just relax.” His praise was laced with feral desire as his mouth worked between your legs. He was so caught up in it— your pleasure. Getting off on the little whimpers bubbling up out of your throat and your hips softly bucking against his face.

“So fuckin’ pretty.” His voice came through in a slur as he sucked on your clit.

You peered down at Declan watching as your hands held onto his dark curls, his head buried between your thighs. It was impossible to miss the movement of his body as his hips bucked into the mattress.

He was grinding against the bed, using the friction to aid in his own release. The sight of it had the pressure in your body pounding— fighting to snap.

“Christ I just love you so much.” His mumble held an insatiable amount of devotion, as did the way his lips and tongue worked you toward your release.

“Wanna stay right ‘ere all night.”

Between filthy words and the sloppy wet sounds of Declan’s mouth against you, his hands gripped harder at your thighs pulling them further apart and giving him even more access to your body.

“Declan” It slipped past your lips in a delicate whisper and he couldn’t help the way his hips rutted against the sheets at the sound of his name, so angelic and perfect on your lips.

“Say it again.” He demanded, hips thrusting into the bed and tongue pushing at your entrance.

You obliged, his name tumbling from your mouth yet again, sending him into a state of pure primal instinct.

In a mess of dirty, muddled, carnal inclination, Declan let his mouth bring you to your release. A deep groan escaping him as felt your core soften and your back arch off the bed. He wanted to do it again and again. He didn't even let up as you came down from your high, your hands pulling at his hair and his name repeatedly whispered from your mouth in surrender.

"One more? Please sweetheart" His voice held a hint of laziness but his movements persisted, messy and desperate.

You sighed in defeat as you let the stubborn irishman below you have his way. After all who were you to deny him what he wanted when he asked so politely?

[imaginespazzi]

Golden Hour is so so good! I love the way you’re taking the story, I’m obsessed with the way they just need each other like you write it so perfectly. And honestly it’s how they seem in real life, just so entwined.

I don’t want to ask but if you have the time and it won’t delay golden hour updates... Can you write a chaotic family Drabble of the girls teasing Azzi and Paige for essentially soft launching the last few weeks. You just write them so perfectly! Hope you’re planning to be a writer one day!

Thank you lovie <3

Do I have time? In theory no but I found about 40 minutes to cook this up (this is my way of justifying the lack of editing) and it's probably more sappy than chaotic but I hope you enjoy it anyways my love. Let me know if it lived up to what you wanted :)

Paige lets out a soft sigh as she turns the ignition off, parking her car in the team apartments parking lot. It's almost one in the morning and the tired is practically vibrating from her body but she'd been determined to get them back to school tonight in time for classes tomorrow morning. She can't help the soft smile that flitters across her face as she looks over at the passenger seat. Azzi's head is leaned against the window, mouth slightly open as she hugs Paige's sweater closer to her body like a blanket. The younger girl had managed to keep her eyes awake for about an hour, tiredly responding to her girlfriend's chatter with one-word inputs until Paige had looked over after asking a question and found Azzi completely knockd out

She had heavily debated waking her up but ultimately decided against it, knowing that it was well past the shooting guard's bedtime and as cute as she found Azzi's cranky grumbling when she was woken up, she thinks the girl probably deserved her sleep after the weekend they'd had.

The weekend.

Truthfully Paige is a little sad for the weekend to come to an end. She's going to miss the privacy of their hotel suite and she's really going to miss seeing her girlfriend all dressed up every day (even if she's not going to miss the way other people had, had the audacity to ogle at what's hers). God it had been perfect; everything Paige had wanted to be. The experience itself had been wonderful but the best part of it was that she'd gotten to live it out with her girlfriend, her person, her Azzi. Whether it was sitting next to her at the fashion shows or sitting across from her at the Liberty game, they'd been together and that's all that had mattered.

Paige knows that there's people who will look at their weekend and still use the just friends moniker; knows that until she and Azzi publicly label themselves, there'll always be people who'll be willfully ignorant of what they are. But still, this weekend -this summer really- had felt different. And maybe it's because they're a little different now but something about it had felt cathartically freeing. It makes her hopeful for what's come in the future, when they can shed this barrier of being teammates and just be who they really are to each other. She can't wait.

"Baby," Paige whispers, slightly shaking Azzi, "we're here."

The other girl let's out a groan, slinking further into herself without opening her eyes, "shhh Paige, I'm tryna sleep."

Laughing to herself, Paige lets herself out of the car before walking around to open the door to the passenger side, leaning down towards Azzi, "c'mon big head, you gotta get up so we can go to bed."

"I'm already in bed," Azzi says petulantly, eyes still closed.

"Azzi..."

"Paige.'

The blonde lets out a fond sigh, "you leave me no other choice Fudd."

"Wha-" Azzi squeals when Paige lifts her out of the car, using her waist to push the door in behind them, "oh my god Paige let me down. You're gonna drop me."

Adjusting the weight in her arms slightly, Paige smirks as she starts walking towards the apartment door, "I am way too strong to drop you."

"Oh my god the edits have gone to you head," Azzi groans dramatically, tightening her arms around the blonde's neck, "you're going to drop me and I'm going to die. I'm too young to die Paige."

"You have no faith in me," Paige guffaws, even if she's slightly struggling to get up the three steps that lead up to the door.

"Paige let me down," Azzi whines again.

"You sure about that princess?" Paige asks, a slightly devious plan forming in her mind as she finally makes into the soft fluffy mat right outside the door.

"Yes."

"Okay," Paige says with a shrug as she lets Azzi go, the younger girl falling on the rug with a slight thud.

"OW WHAT THE FUCK?"

"You asked me to let you go."

"Not like that," Azzi growls, rubbing her hips slightly as she gets up and shoves at Paige, "enjoy sleeping by yourself."

Paige's eyes widen as she watches Azzi open the apartment door and saunter towards the elevator.

"Oh hey wait, wait, wait, I'm sorry," Paige has to run to catch up to the younger girl, engulfing her from behind as she presses slobbery open mouthed kisses over every inch of her that she can touch, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Please don't make me sleep alone."

"Ew stop," Azzi crinkles her nose, half-heartedly pushing Paige away.

"I'm sorry. Pleeeeeease," Paige begs as the two of them wait for the elevator, "besides I'm sure you can't fall asleep without me either."

"Oh you're sure are you?" Azzi teases, yawning slightly as the doors ding and open and the two of them step inside.

"I know you can't," Paige grins, nuzzling her face in the younger girl's neck as she presses the button for Paige's floor, making no attempt to press the one for hers as well, "see?"

"Shut up," Azzi blushes slightly, "it's only because I don't wanna deal with Ice in the morning."

"Sure it is," Paige sing-songs before her face morphs into something more serious and she presses her forehead against her girlfriends, "I had a really good time this weekend."

Azzi's eyes soften, "it was pretty great huh?"

"The greatest," Paige confirms, brushing their lips together, "I love you."

"I love you too."

***

Much to Azzi's chagrin -and to Paige's slight amusement though she won't dare say it- she does have to deal with Ice the next morning. And worse than that, she has to deal with KK.

"GOOD MOOOOOORNING LOVEBIRDS," a loud voice echoes way to early in the morning.

Azzi cranks one eye open about cuss somebody out when KK jumps onto their bed, tiny body creating such an impact that it has both her and Paige practically jolting up.

"Morning sunshines," KK grins happily as Ice snickers from where she's leaning against the wall, "y'all done with your world tour?"

"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Paige asks groggily.

"What's wrong with us? US?" KK's voice is as loud as always, "y'all abandon your kids-"

"Again," Azzi says exasperatedly, "y'all aren't actually our ki-"

"EXCUSE ME?" KK recoils before turning dramatically to Ice, "did you hear that Icey? She said we're not her kids."

"That's so mean of you Azzi," Ice pouts, "you practically abandons us for a decade-"

"It was one week-"

"A DECADE! And now-" Ice fake whimpers, "and now you're saying we're not even your kids? What kind of parents even are you?"

"The kind who aren't parents?" Paige says coyly only tfor KK to throw a pillow at her face, "seriously?"

"I cannot believe this," the Wisconsinite shakes her head, "first you abandon us," she glares at the two of them in a warning to not interrupt her, "and now, when we come in here to finally spend some time with y'all, do you welcome your children with open arms? OH NO. No you don't. Instead you make us feel like you don't even love us. Y'all are SICK."

"So SICK," Ice choruses and Azzi narrows her eyes at them.

"Y'all came in here to spend time us?" she asks slowly, "really?"

"Are you accusing us of having other intentions?"

"Well-"

"Oh my god," KK jumps of the bed, fixing them with an offended stare, "can't two children just want to see their parents?"

"Not when it's the two of you."

"I CANNOT BELIEVE-"

"KK," Jana's voice interrupts from outside the door, "is it time for us to come in yet?"

Paige looks between the door and KK and Ice's caught-out face as Azzi buries her head into her hands, "what are y'all up to?"

"Fucking El-Alfy ruining the plan," KK grumbles under her breath as she steps outside and the noise of bickering echoes through Paige's door.

"When we have actual children, we're never letting these idiots babysit," Azzi says softly as she leans her head back against Paige's shoulder.

Something beautiful blooms in Paige's chest as she kisses a smile into Azzi's shoulder. It's the way Azzi says it, the way she talks about them having their own children, like it's an inevitability, like forever means each other.

"Whatever you say baby," she whispers.

"Can you guys stop being gross for one second," Ice chides from the corner, "a whole fucking weekend together and still being this sappy has got to be a crime or something."

"A crime of passion," Paige says airily, relishing the way it elicits a giggle from Azzi.

"What the fuck?" there's a look of disgust on Ice's face as she studies the two of them, "that wasn't even that funny Azzi."

"I thought it was," Azzi shrugs, smiling as she turns her head to press her lips to Paige's cheek.

"Oh my god y'all get the fuck in here," Ice calls out, "they're being sickeningly cute in here again and I feel like I'm suffocating."

Unable to help their curiosity at what shenanigans their teammates come children are up to, Paige and Azzi can't help but look towards the door. Their mouths fall open as KK and Jana wheel in one of the whiteboards from the lobby, Sarah diligently following in from behind them. On the whiteboard is a series of cutout photos of the two of them taken from the weekend. A large hand-drawn paper sign hangs right above the photos: THE PAZZI SOFT LAUNCH tm.

"Ta-da," KK and Jana flail their hands as they present the board to the two gaping girls on the bed, bowing dramatically, "we made you guys this. Isn't it amazing?"

"It was my idea," Sarah juts out her chest proudly.

"It was not. I was the one who said wouldn't it be cool if we could show them how disgustingly stupid in love they looked all weekend," Jana glares at the freshman.

"Right but it was my idea to make the poster board," Sarah defends.

"Girl boo. I'm the one who came up with the title so it was really my idea," KK chirps in.

"All three of you needa take several steps back," Ice warns, "because who was the one who actually made this whole thing?"

"Me," all 6 of them turn to the doorway to see Caroline standing there with an exasperated look on her face, "I did all the cutting and glue-"

"You were in on this?" Azzi asks, "what happened to being the sensible one?"

"I am sensible," Caroline defends herself sheepishly, "but you know I love a good arts and crafts project and you didn't see them Az. They were failing miserably-"

"WE WERE NOT!"

"YOU WERE GLUING THE PICTURES UPSIDE DOWN-"

"ONLY SARAH WAS DOING THAT."

"DON'T THROW ME UNDER THE BUS LIKE THAT."

"ALL OF Y'ALL SHUT UP," Paige bellows and Azzi immediately flinches away from her.

"Ow Paige," she whines, rubbing deftly at her hear, "that hurt my ears."

"Sorry baby," Paige coos, pulling the younger girl back in to her arms and apologetically kissing her cheek as suddenly forgets why she'd needed to yell in the first place.

"SEE," Ice cuts, "this is why we needed to make the board. Y'all are so atrociously down bad and if we have to see how sickening it is, so do you."

"I think it's kinda sweet these dumbasses have finally figured it out," Caroline says with a smile.

"Nobody asked for your opinion-" KK grumbles as Paige sulks.

"We are not dumbasses," she says indignantly,unable to help herself from smiling when Azzi kisses the pout off of her face.

"Oh my god," Sarah gags as she looks at the rest of their teammates, "do they ever stop being disgusting?"

She's met with a chorus of "no"s from the rest of the girls in the room who've had to put up with Paige and Azzi for longer than she has.

"Y'all have a lot of nerve coming into our room and then calling us out for what we do in it," Azzi scolds.

"This is NOT your room," Jana corrects.

Paige glares at her as she tightens her grip around Azzi, "don't listen to them baby. My room is your room."

"Fucking hell. Y'all are hopeless," the Egyptian groans, "I give up. Congratulations on the soft launch or whatever. We're all very happy for you."

Azzi splutters, a series of indiscernible noises waterfalling from her lips, "we did NOT soft launch."

"Really?" Ice cocks her forehead, "so this," she gestures to the whiteboard filled with incriminating pictures, "this just looks like a completely normal best-friends kinda weekend to you?"

"Yes," Azzi replies stubbornly.

"Seriously?" Jana points to a series of pictures taken of the two of them practically pressed into each other at two of the fashions shows; there's a noticeable difference in how much space there is between them and the people on their other sides in comparison to the lack of air between the two of them, "y'all sit this close to all of y'alls friends like this?"

"Of course-"

"Hey," Paige wails, "who else do you sit that close to?"

"Not the time," Azzi hisses to her girlfriend, "I'm trying to prove something."

"Prove what? That y'all look at everybody like this?" KK smirks as she points to a set of images of them basically cheesing at each other like lovesick fools.

"That doesn't count as a soft launch-"

"Baby it does look a little bit like one-"

"Shut up Paige," Azzi scowls, digging her elbow into her girlfriend's stomach, "it doesn't count because it's not like we meant to do it-"

"So what you're saying is you accidentally soft launched then?" Sarah raises an eyebrow.

"That's not- I mean-" Azzi struggles to form a coherent sentences as Paige laughs into her shoulder, "your a freshman. Shouldn't you be nicer to your upperclassmen or something?"

"AHA!" KK cheers as she high-fives Sarah "deflecting because you can't deny it. Good job freshie!"

"I AM NOT-"

"Baby," Paige says softly, barely concealing her smile captures Azzi's chin between her fingers to turn her face towards her, "let it go. They're right."

"They're not-" Azzi huffs.

"Yes they are-"

"Well they don't need to know," Azzi says petulantly as she glowers at the other occupants of the room.

Jana regards her with an amused expression, "you know we can hear you right?"

Paige sighs, annoyed at having to look away from her girlfriend as she rounds on the rest of her teammates, "alright y'all made your point. Now will you get the fuck out?"

"That is no way to talk to you children," KK says as she crosses her arms across her chest.

"Ooooh," Sarah grins, "wait does this mean I'm one of your children too?"

"For the nth time-" Azzi begins but Paige covers her mouth with her hands, not wanting to start another bickering session that would inevitable prolong her not getting alone time in bed with her girlfriend.

"We'll think about it," she tells the freshman, a little touched when it seems to make Sarah gleam with happiness, "now please," she gestures to the door.

"Kicking us out so y'all can be all mush-gushy in peach eugh," Ice scrunches her face with disgust, "at least tell us y'all got us gifts or something."

"Even if we did you're definitely not getting them now," Azzi snarls at them.

"So what you're telling me is that there's definitely gifts," Jana says excitedly, "ugh I knew y'all would come through."

"Here," Paige points to both of their suitcases parked against the wall, "how about y'all take those and go to the living room and take whatever y'all want-"

"Wait no-"

"Will you be quiet for one second," Paige pinches Azzi's arms before smiling at the younger girls in the room, "all yours guys!"

KK narrows her eyes at the blonde, "this feels like a bribe-"

"Who cares Kamorea. She's giving us expensive free shit, don't argue," Jana chides as she starts to pull KK out of the room, Sarah following excitedly behind them.

"That's kinda low of you," Ice says with a disappointed look towards both of them, "but hey," she shrugs as she begins to follows the others, "if it belongs to my parents, technically it belongs to me."

"Well played Bueckers," Caroline, the last person remaining, smile as she moves to wheel the whiteboard out with her.

"WAIT," both Paige and Azzi yell in sync before shyly looking at each other.

"You can um-" Paige licks her lips, "you can leave that. It's kinda cute."

"I lied," Caroline shakes her head but does as she's told, "you guys aren't sweet because this," she points between the two of them and the whiteboard as she begins to move backwards, "this is just sickening behavior."

"Y'all are just jealous of our love," Paige calls out, ignoring the chorus of protests that she gets in return, happy to finally have the room back to just her and Azzi.

"So," the younger girl says carefully, as she turns herself around to straddle Paige's hips.

"So," Paige whispers back, hands resting on Azzi's waist as the other girl brushes a strand of blond hair out of her face.

"I think we might have accidentally soft-launched a little bit," Azzi says shyly, nibbling at her bottom lip.

"Accidentally," Paige grins as she nuzzles their noses together.

And as the sunlight peeks in through the window and the cacophony of their teammates excitedly unpacking their presents drifts in from the living room, Paige holds Azzi closer to her chest, and she lets herself think of what it'll be like when they hard launch. On purpose, this time.

[fbfh]

did you know that Dean wakes up one morning and realizes he has a fucking bombshell of a wife/husband/spouse, a cozy (slightly rural) suburban house, and not one but three fucking daughters???? Did you know that he woke up one morning to toddler giggles and little kid bickering and baby babbling????? and your girls come charging in hushing their little giggles so they don't wake up mommy and daddy and so OBVIOUSLY he has to pretend to be asleep so he doesn't foil their plan. he focuses all his energy on keeping his face and body relaxed, keeping his breathing even. they're whispering and babbling and Dean peeks an eye open and looks at the love of his life and these three angels with their daddy's attitude and their mama's heart. they have your eyes and his smile. they're... the best parts of both of you, and there's something entirely new and beautiful in each of them too.

Bobby Dean is your oldest, and her 4th birthday is just around the corner. She's 3 and 3/4 right now, and won't let anyone forget it.

Your second is Jodi John, or JJ informally. She's fought her way half way through the terrible twos and is already getting a head start on the whole 3 going on 13 thing.

Mary Cass, or Cassie, is your youngest. She's just over a year old, and wants to do everything her big sisters do.

And Dean is looking at your little girls, and at you. He sees the way the morning sunlight dapples in through the window and illuminates their tangled hair and disney princess nightgowns. Your face is all puffy from sleep, and you still smell like the apple pie you made yesterday.

it's real, he realizes. that pipe dream that apple pie life.

you gave that to him. you did that. you turned his deepest, most unspoken desires into a reality like it was nothing. and every ounce of joy and love and peace he feels every moment of every day, he owes it all to you. You try to tell him on occasion when he gets all sentimental on you, he deserves it. he deserves every good thing he feels, and he's so great with the girls, he's a natural dad and you couldn't possibly dream of a better husband to do it with.

Because at his heart, Dean is a family man. He's your family man.

[mostly-marvel-musings]

shenanigans + tony stank

Shenanigans

A/N: You got it!

Warning: 18+ smut.

One word smut prompts

.

“Tell me again how this counts as a ‘team-building exercise,’” you mutter, squinting at Tony through the flour-dusted chaos of your kitchen.

He grins—smug, shirtless, and unapologetically frosting-smeared—while holding a whisk like it’s an arc reactor prototype.

“We built something,” he says, gesturing to the collapsing cake and your equally disheveled state.

You’re about to retort when he grabs your hips, hauls you onto the counter, and murmurs against your neck, “And now I’m gonna team-build my way between your thighs.”

Your gasp is swallowed by his mouth—and the oven timer dings like a filthy little applause.

“Leave the cake,” he groans, lifting your leg, “I’ve got something sweeter to eat.”

[kabr0ztrousers]

Kabr0z Writes episode 134: Forevermore

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

Ao3!

CWs: noncon; knotting;

A/N: It is late, and I am on the poorly side, so enjoy another nice short one.

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

The night was freezing. You regretted offering to work late to get the project in, but you needed the overtime hours. It probably wasn't worth it. Now you've missed your last train home and didn't even make enough on top to make up a taxi fare. So you walked.

Your heels clacked against the road surface as you clutched your jacket around yourself. Had you known you'd be walking home tonight, you'd have worn trousers rather than a skirt, and probably gone for a thicker pair of tights. As it was, you could feel the wind on your legs as you went, the pace you were keeping the only thing stopping you shivering.

Noise from a rooftop. A dark shape from above. Dank fur and powerful arms. Dizzying acceleration. You made out the group receding, before landing with a thump on a flat roof. The dark shape that grabbed you was hunched over you, glowing red eyes staring as one brutally clawed hand held you down.

Pain. Tears. Clothes turned to rags. Cold night air. The shape panted above your nude body. Heat radiated from it. A sharp-toothed maw closed about your neck. Claws dug into your thigh. It opened your legs, pressing against you. Warm wetness spread onto you. You struggled. It held you.

You screamed as it entered you. The overwhelming smell of damp fur. Claws cutting your shoulders. The thump-thump-thump against the roof as it drove on. Your fists battered against matted hair. It did not relent. Its jaw tightened. A warning. Screams became whines. Panting turned to grunting. A bulbous swelling slapped against you, threatening entry. You twisted and turned to no avail. It pressed on.

It hilted in you. You sobbed. Stretched out. Twitching and clenching. Heat filled you. Spreading inside. Making you his.

Forevermore

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

This one's probably the shortest I'll try to pass off as an episode, at a super tight 300 words. Unless anyone specifically requests a wordcount less than this, in which case I could go lower.

Either way, hope you all enjoyed it!

[lire-casander]

🎶 Dancing

for @bluepandaears

There are not many things that Edwin misses from when he was alive. Certainly, he does not mean the stares and the murmurs following him wherever he went in Saint Hilarion’s; he does not miss—much—the weight of human touch on his skin.

But he misses dancing.

He did not do it much when he was alive; it was unbecoming of his upbringing to admit that he liked the activity, designed to introduce young girls into society, conceived as a marketplace where young men could find a wife. But Edwin loved the beats of music thrumming in the ballroom at their countryside mansion. Despite not being too keen to dance himself—not unless he had a suitable partner, which almost never happened—he had enjoyed seeing the dancers float across the floors, choreographed movements in sync, beautifully executed.

Modern dancing does not hold a candle to the wonderful séances he had sat through during the early years of his life. Edwin has always eyed the incoherent movements with a hint of apprehension, if not outright disgust at the most vulgar steps he had had the dubious privilege of watching during one of Charles’s escapades to a nightclub in Soho. And yet, he misses the almost inescapable feeling of rhythm forcing his feet to move.

He yearns for a chance to feel it again.

But his taste in music is not something that he shares with many people, dead or alive—not even with Charles—so it has been a while since he has enjoyed the quiet peace of a good tune.

That is, until he hops back from a quick trip to the nearest library and finds the office turned into a ballroom of sorts. There is nobody around. Instead, there is only furniture pushed against the walls and the soft melody of a well-known waltz escaping from the horn of their old Victrola.

Edwin stares in awe at the display, not fully understanding what is happening in their office right now.

“May I have this dance?” asks Charles, stepping out of the shadows next to the Victrola.

Edwin turns around to watch his partner—the love of his afterlife—smiling brightly at him. He cannot help the smile that matches Charles’s as Edwin grabs his proffered hand and allows Charles to lead them into an old-fashioned waltz dance across the office, now turned into their own, private ballroom.

send me an emoji and i’ll write you a drabble

[shehatescoffee]

here's a humble drabble request: I love dadjo and suffering, so what about a little something from gojo's pov, let's say, two days prior his fight with sukuna? (yes I will never get over megumi's 16th birthday (ಥ﹏ಥ) )

It's his birthday today.

Satoru hasn't forgotten. Can't forget, maybe.

It's been nearly a month since he and Sukuna agreed to fight, and when he'd suggested the date, just two days away now, he hadn't thought about it. He'd been too overwhelmed, too shocked, at seeing Megumi standing there next to the stitched up corpse of Suguru, hair combed back and dark curse marks marring his skin, to even think to consider it. It was like looking into a funhouse mirror determined to show him his greatest failures, those of the past and those yet to come, so unsettling that for a moment he hadn't believed it to be real—refused to accept that it could be.

So, he hadn't hesitated at spitting out the date, one that follows him like a wretched curse but seemed oddly fitting at the time, and now he's sitting here alone on Megumi's sixteenth birthday, blowing out his candles for him.

Megumi's never been one to make a big deal about his birthday, but Tsumiki loves—loved birthdays, or any reason to celebrate and eat too many sweets, and so Megumi had suffered through them for her sake. When Satoru took them in (took them in is being generous, he thinks; he was barely eighteen, fresh off losing Suguru and entirely incapable of taking proper care of himself, not to mention a pair of abandoned children, one with the weight of a thousand year old familial curse on his shoulders and the other so dedicated to filling the void of their parents that she'd worked herself to the bone to keep them afloat), he'd made it a point to spend their birthdays with them. His parents had never really bothered to make anything important out of his own birthday, other than forcing him to partake in the traditional clan rituals and accept lavish, pointless gifts he never asked for.

He hadn't wanted that for them. For Megumi, in particular. Tsumiki was a lovely child, easy to please, but Megumi was never so simple. His first birthday under Satoru's care was a mess, to say the least (he never made the mistake of inviting all of Megumi's classmates again).

If it was up to Megumi, the day would be like any other. Maybe he'd have some cake, just to appease Tsumiki, but that was hard for Satoru to accept. Coming from a childhood where birthdays were seen as nothing more than a guilded checkmark before he would assume his role as clan head, he simply couldn't understand why any kid wouldn't want what extravagence and attention he was offering them. Cake should be expected, the most basic aspect of a birthday. Why wouldn't Megumi want more? Why wouldn't he trust Satoru enough to ask for it?

Thinking back, that was a common theme for him and Megumi. Misunderstandings, he means. Perhaps he was simply too stuck in his ways to really see Megumi's point of view, or perhaps Megumi was willfully stubborn about it because he enjoyed seeing Satoru get flustered when his attempts at bonding were rebuked. Perhaps, Megumi, with his dark hair and tendency to put Satoru in his place without remorse, just reminded him too much of someone he hadn't given enough attention to, and he's been desperate to avoid following the same path ever since.

He likes to think he did the best he could, but look where all his efforts got them.

The image of Megumi—no, Sukuna, wearing Megumi's skin, grinning with a malice he's never seen on the face that still has hints of baby fat on it, the cheeks he used to pinch and prod when Megumi would get in a mood, the teeth he saw grow in after tying floss to a doorknob to remove the old ones, it will surely haunt him through death.

So, he sits here, alone, slicing up a cake that's not nearly sweet enough for him because he'd ordered it months ahead of time, as usual, with Megumi's tastes in mind.

It's likely that Yuuji would come, if he asked, but Satoru doesn't even know if he's aware of the significance of the date (when do new friends think to mention birthdays?), and if he isn't then Satoru refuses to be the one to tell him. It's not a burden to celebrate Megumi's birthday, it never has been and never will be, but nonetheless it's a responsibility he has to bear alone.

He can't help but chuckle a little bit at his own melodrama. He's even got the lights turned off, for Tengen's sake.

Maybe he'd gone soft at some point, but can anyone blame him? Megumi is just so strong. So strong. He unlocked the capability of opening his domain years before Satoru had, and, with time, Satoru was sure that, no matter what happened to him, Megumi would be able to move forward. He'd be able to do what Satoru never could, surrounded by powerful friends and allies. Hell, eventually Megumi would probably have saved Yuuji from his death sentence out of pure spite, trying to prove he could succeed where Satoru failed.

But, now he can't do any of that, at least not for a while longer yet. And it's Satoru's fault. His fault that Megumi, barely even his own person yet, is spending his sixteenth birthday as the King of Curse's meatsuit.

Chewing on another bite of too-bitter cake, he sighs.

He'll make sure to make Megumi's seventeenth birthday the best one yet.

[decino]

Cobert and 'silent' for the drabble ask, please!

Robert woke up in a cold sweat.

Cora was dying. In his arms. And he was crying.

And she was shot.

He remembers screaming in a loud manner. But it was all silent, just as vacant as the ballroom that they now are center of.

But as he reached out to the sheets beside him…it was nothing but empty.

That’s right, he thought to himself.

It wasn’t a dream at all.

[pro-depresanti]

Hi ;-) may i Request a OS with Val x female reader when reader gets jealous of the attention he pays to his fav toy while lunch break?

Again, I'm so sorry this took so long, this has been sitting in the drafts almost finished, I genuinely forgot it existed. Hope it was worth the wait!

Tags: fem!Reader, possessive behavior (kinda), fear kink (kinda???), mirror smut, fingering, size kink (but that's a given lol), roofies (NOT used on the Reader)

___

It's a well known fact Valentino isn't the type to settle down in any sense of the word. He's always looking for something new, whether that be substances, whores, or kinks. You're used to it, there's no other option but to accept that that's just who Val is.

You are no whore, however. It's evident in the way he doesn't let anyone as much as glance your way with hungry eyes and live to tell the tale. You're his, and that's final. That's why you aren't one of his actors. The only reason you come into the studio is to keep Valentino entertained during boring sessions and for an honest second opinion, nothing else. The thought of you participating in a shoot doesn't enter neither yours, nor Val's mind.

And, you know how Val recruites new workers. Charm, charisma, flirting, empty promises, poured to the brim glasses, vulgar words and touches, you know all of his tricks.

The film scenario for the day is pretty straight forward – a naive and innocent princess gets lost in the woods and gets destroyed by the big and scary forest monster.

The princess is a brand new actress, and has much to learn, fumbles over words, trips, flails around ungracefully, is dramatic even by porn's standards. You find it odd how understanding and patient Val is with her, but hey, that's just his tactic sometimes, trying not to scare her off from the get go. The illusion of glamour has to stay for at least a bit.

The woman in question is some kind of aquatic demon. Big expressive eyes, scales that blend into the bridge of her nose and cheeks like freckles, long wavy hair, small hands with webs between the fingers. She's more cute than sexy, perfect for the role. She still has that spark in her eyes, the promise of fame and glory fresh on her mind, thinking that she will be the new star of Hell, that Val will fall in love with her and they will live happily ever after.

Today just isn't a good shooting day. The other actor, a bear demon that's almost as tall as Val and with forearms as thick as your waist has no idea how to remove the corset the actress is wearing. Tearing the ribbon that's tying it proves just as difficult.

Eventually, Val is so pissed off he calls another actor for replacement. While waiting for the other guy to show up, Valentino calls for a lunch break, which is an oddity even in itself. Ugh, you'd have to deal with pissed off Val the whole evening once the shooting is wrapped up for the day.

"Did I do something wrong?" The actress asks. She actually looks nervous, poor thing. She'll learn soon enough to shut the fuck up if Val isn't in the mood.

"Oh no no, baby, you're doing just amazing," Valentino replies sweetly.

He's really pushing his good guy act on this one. He even bends down to fix up her corset that's now unsymmetrically tied from all the pulling and yanking. The woman giggles like a damn schoolgirl getting the first compliment in her life.

You can't help but raise an eyebrow when Val leads her over and gestures for her to sit in his chair. He then crouches down in front of her, resting his top set of forearms on her knees and looking up at her far too lovingly for your liking.

"Let's get you something to eat while we wait, yeah? Or a drink, to loosen up those nerves?"

She smiles back. "A Manhattan would be nice."

Valentino nods. "Right on it."

He actually goes to get her a damn cocktail. Valentino, the Overlord of Lust and Depravity, goes to get a cocktail for some wannabe–

"He's so nice, isn't he?" She tells you, kicking her legs happily. "All my friends were like 'don't sell your soul, he's going to use and abuse you', yadda yadda, but he's not like that! He just puts on a scary persona so people respect him more!"

You nod along. Sure, sure, Val is just a misunderstood guy with a heart of gold that he keeps locked up and saved just for her. Two weeks before her dreams shatter, tops.

"I can't believe I'm actually here! I've always wanted to be on TV! It's all so fancy, and the guy who did my makeup was super nice too! Look at that winged eyeliner! I actually feel like a princess!"

Mm-hmm, a real princess would totally wear a dress that's so short it barely covers half of her ass. Whatever, she can dream all she wants, it's none of your business. You won't be the one to ruin her hope, it will happen naturally.

You've heard it all before. The new recruits, especially the women, usually gravitate towards you during the breaks, since you're the only one here not fussing over equipment or high out of your mind. You make yourself approachable, adding yet another layer to the illusion. It's the same song and dance every time, and you're used to playing along with whatever lies Valentino has personally crafted for each one.

"But enough about me, what about you? You've been sitting here the entire time, don't you have work to do?"

You freeze up. Who the fuck does she thinks she is??? But, apparently she takes your flabbergasted silence for an invitation to continue blabbering.

"I mean, when I saw you I assumed you'd be part of the crew, setting up the lights or something. You don't strike me as one of the actors, you know? It's just a gut feeling, you don't look the part. Val wants only the prettiest girls for his projects, right? The men can be the ugliest creatures imaginable and no one would care, it's all about the women being top of the line. Val's been telling me everything about his work, I know a thing or two. I just figured you'd be... working on something behind the camera? So, what's your job?"

She is high on something, right? There's no way she just said that to the demon who's spent the entire time sitting right besides Val. Obviously she wouldn't be this stupid, right?!

You plaster on a smile. Now who isn't fit for an actor? "Oh, I'm Val's personal assistant. Help him with ideas, review scripts," you squint playfully, lowering your tone, "keep him company at night. It's a lot of work, really, I barely catch a blink of sleep, if you know what I mean." It's cheesey as all hell, but all scripts must be adjusted to the likes of the audience.

She laughs forcefully. "Funny, I haven't heard anything about you." Obviously, Val has to make every new bitch think they're the cream of the crop, he wouldn't be boasting around that the position is taken.

Speak of the Devil, Val finally reappears. He hands the actress the glass, and you don't comment on the ever so slight pink hue of the alcohol. It's on her to accept a drink from a pimp.

Val looks at you. "Oh, you two met? Say, what do you think? She's a natural, isn't she?" You've heard that tone before, the drawn out words, the fake smile and the ever so slight squint of his eyes.

"Yeah. You've gotten yourself a catch."

The woman smiles, her perfect teeth contasting with her lipstick. She sips on her cocktail, completely oblivious that in five minutes she won't be able to think straight. "Thanks for the drink."

"Only the best for my future stars." If he doesn't stop soon this woman's ego is going to get bigger than Vox's, which says a lot. "I have so many plans for you, just you wait."

With how behind schedule they are this movie better break some records to compensate. The opening section taking the entire morning was entirely on her.

"Speaking of plans," Val continues, "we should go out tonight, to celebrate your debut. There's this new restaurant I've been meaning to visit. You can come to my room after the shooting to freshen up."

The actress squeaks. Literally squeaks like a dog chew toy. You mentally scream. Val hasn't taken you on a date in a long while because he's so busy. But he has time for her?! She's already signed the contract, no need being this extra. "Yeah– yes, of course, Val! I'll be flattered!"

"And when are we going on a date?" You throw in, phrasing it as a joke as best as you can through the agitation.

"No one is talking to you, darling," the actress scoffs. Sheesh, high school bully much?

You're left speechless. You glance at Valentino, then at the new whore, then back at him, expecting some sort of reaction. Val has killed for less disrespect towards you before, what the hell?!

"Good," Val coos, as if he hasn't heard anything. "Wait." He grabs her chin. "Your lipstick is smudged."

She gasps dramatically. "Where, I didn't–" she's pulled into a kiss before she can finish the sentence. And, you stare. Val gives kisses sparingly, he has to keep some things actually intimate after all, so the gesture feels extra special. You blink, dumbfounded as they exchange tongues and spit. You haven't seen him kiss anyone, besides you and Vox, in ages. What the actual fuck has gotten into him?!

"There," Val says innocently when he pulls back, caressing her face. "Better get that fix it." He stands up and shouts for the makeup artist.

She nods and skips, fucking skips to the dressing rooms.

Once out of sight, Valentino stares you dead in the eyes, fake smile dropping. "What's with that look on your face?"

"Nothing?"

"You think I'm blind?!" He snaps. Well, he would be considered legally blind, but you aren't stupid enough to voice that out.

"No– no, just, I don't know what you're talking about."

Val nods slowly. "Mm-hmm, you're not looking at her like you're about to drag her by the hair through the entire floor."

"I'm not–" you say sharply. Val just grabs you by the arm and pulls you to one of the empty dressing rooms. The door shuts with a bang behind you, the giant mirror rattling as you're thrown onto the floor.

Val stares you down, expression neutral, which is his equivalent of 'five seconds away from tearing someone apart'. "Stand up," he commands, voice leveled.

You scramble to your feet, fighting every instinct not to curl in to yourself. It will do you no good. Your gaze stays locked to the ground.

"My eyes are up here, amorcito."

You bring your head up to look at him, clenching your fists by your sides.

"Now," he says slowly, "let's try this again. What is your problem?"

"Nothing!"

He cups your cheek. "I can't let you run your mouth in public. You sit, you smile, you look pretty. That's your job. So, pray tell," claws dig dangerously close to your eye, "what has gotten into you today?"

"I–" you try to take a deep breath to calm down, "I– it's nothing, really, I swear!"

He bends down, squinting at you like he's trying to read your thoughts. You gulp, heart racing, not daring to even blink.

You don't know what's the right answer he expects, and knowing him, anything you say could be turned against you if he's in the mood to take his anger out. You settle on the safest option, "I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, it won't happen again."

He tilts his head, frowning. "But you did nothing wrong, why are you apologizing?" His tone drips like honey, thick and slow and overly sweet.

You swallow the dryness in your throat. "I– I shouldn't have said anything, and, I shouldn't have looked at her like that. It won't happen again."

He clicks his tongue, and that's the moment you realize you're absolutely screwed. He chuckles under his breath. "Are you... are you jealous?" He grins, satisfied like you've been caught right in the act. "Bebita can't handle the attention being on someone else?"

"I, um..."

"It's an easy question, 'yes' or 'no'?" He coos softly, and it just makes your head spiral with fear further.

You take in a shaky breath, trying to steady yourself. "No– no, it's not like that!"

Valentino's gentle expression melts away. "You can't lie for shit," he says, stone cold.

You can, it's part of your job, but not to him. Never him. He knows your tells better than even yourself. Apologizing would just dig your grave deeper. You clench your jaw in some attempt to stop yourself from trembling. Today just isn't a productive day, and now that frustration will be let out on you, nothing can get you out of the situation. You just have to take it.

He waits for a response for what feels like eternity, one of the longest five seconds of your afterlife. He then straightens himself to his full height, glances around the room, then turns his back on you.

"Step up," he orders, low and measured, as he nods towards the makeup chair set in front of the vanity.

You wordlessly obey, your legs shaking as you balance yourself to stand straight and not topple over.

Even with the added height, the top of your head doesn't quite reach up to his chest. He stalks behind you, slowly, gracefully, sizing up both of your reflections. He leans against your back, almost enough to rest his chin on your shoulder, his wings fully open to frame you in. Your cheeks get gripped harshly, but not as harshy as he could, just enough to keep your head in place. The force causes your lips to pucker up ever so slightly.

Your eyes meet their reflexion, the fright evident in them, the tension in your shouders just as visible.

"You think she's prettier than you, is that it?" A palm settles on your lower stomach, goes up slowly underneath your shirt, purposefully lifting the fabric up, the cold air pricking the exposed skin. "You think I would settle for anything but the best?"

You shake your head as much as you can, sucking in air as he gropes your chest. "No, of course not," you manage to get out so quickly it's barely intelligible.

He hums to himself, another hand snaking down your pants, beneath the band of your panties. "Maybe that– oh! Would you look at that!"

Your breathing hitched as two fingers caress you, gathering up the wetness and bringing it up in one smooth stroke. You could lie to yourself all you want, that it's the smoke permanently soaked into the walls of the studio, that Valentino has long conditioned into you that fear and arousal are things that go together, that the shear proximity of him promises pleasure, but at the end of the day there's no excuse as to why you're even slightly turned on.

"Don't tell me you're actually enjoying this," he mocks as he sinks his fingers into you, claws just a threat of pain but oh so careful not to actually harm. He angles the heel of his hand just right against your clit.

Your knees buckle, your whole body jerks and you pitifully try to brace yourself on the vanity to keep your balance.

There's no time for that, Valentino lays his palm flat on your sternum and pushes you back. "You lean on me," he says sharply, before his voice softens, "there, there, I've got you."

You blink quickly, vision unfocused.

"You think she sounds hotter than you, maybe? Mind giving a demonstration?" He angles his fingers up with precision, claws glazing you just enough to make themselves known, and you whimper, no pretence or exaggeration. The pitch of your voice makes your cheeks heat up, only half in embarrassment.

He kisses your jaw, lingers there for a moment. You can feel the smug expression against your skin. "Perfect. And again." He repeats the motion, harder, and your whine goes up in volume.

At last, he leans his head against your shoulder, captures your gaze in the reflection. "And pray tell, would I be getting any whore off while running behind schedule?"

"No," you breathe out. "No–" you cut yourself off with a whine.

"Good. And what do we say when someone is doing something nice for us?"

"Thank you," you suck in air. "Thank you, thank you– Val–"

He brings your face up, squeezing your cheeks enough for his claws to leave indents. "Remember that only I get to see you like this. Only I get to make you feel good."

You try to nod, your breathing quick and shallow. You don't get the time to ask for permission before you cum, sharp and sudden. He doesn't let you ride it out, his pace doesn't falter until you're shaking so much you actually worry about toppling over. Luckily, he pulls back, letting you catch your breath.

He turns your head to look at you properly, studying your expression. "There. Now, are you going to calm down?"

You force yourself to reply. "Yes, yes, I'll be good."

He croons, caressing your cheek. "Was that so hard? Seriously, comparing yourself to that whore? Please." He nods to something in the back, you follow with your eyes, catching a glimpse of the blue camera in the corner, nothing how Val's wings are fully shielding you from its view. "She gets to be drooled over by the entire Ring. You are for my eyes only, got it?"

You nod hastily.

He offers a hand to help you get down from the chair, which you take without hesitation. "Be nice, I'm taking you somewhere on Sunday if you behave."

"I will, promise."

"Let's get back to this mess." He throws one last glance at you. "Chin up, bebita. You aren't a whore, fucking act like you actually belong next to me."

You grin and you don't care how ridiculously you look. "Yes, Val."

He walks out first, or rather, stomps, back to his agitated director self. "Is the replacement here already?! We're behind, pronto!"

The actress is sitting straight on the floor, swaying. You walk past her on purpose, give her a wink. "Come on, darling. Don't just sit there, you have a job to do!"

[assortedvillainvault]

I'd love a Blitzwing drabble with a human!reader! Anything that strikes your imagination!

You and me both anon! Hope you enjoy!

Blitzwing x Reader Drabble - Tickles

It is not, generally speaking, advised to distract your pilot.

Blitzwing’s cockpit is comfy. The weather is clear, your schedules wide open. A rare moment of genuine calm in the hectic lives of mechanical invader and his hapless organic sweetspark.

You fidget, eyeing the control panel. His buttons are so shiny. It makes your fingers itchy.

“Schatzy? Vhat are you- AHAHAHAHAH STOP IT-!!”

Blitz pitches violently to the side as you gently brush your fingernails around the edges of the buttons, giggling even as you're thrown around in the cockpit and he pulls into a shaky spin.

“Don’t you dare – don’t you DA-” Ok well with that squeal of an order how could you possibly stop? Your fingers dance over the buttons and levers as they light up like a disco rave, Blitz’s plating trembling as his flight path becomes reminiscent of an etch-a-sketch, laughing maniacally.

“Nooooooo, nein nein vait, VAIT-” Icy’s panic cuts though as he lurches – you’re thrown against the glass as he pitches from the air, shifting to tank mode with a scream. Vertigo punches you in the stomach as you both freefall. “VE TOLD YOU NOT TO FRAGGING DO THAT!!”

Yeah. No regrets for this distraction at all.

[bittercafanddatapads]

Marshall Commander Fox is scarcely seen without his iconic helmet, even within the confines of the Coruscant guards headquarters. The freshest of shinies usually don’t see his face until a few rotations into their deployment, even then usually in private moments and passing chances. The very rare occasion Fox eats with his corries in the mess hall (the times he actually has time to), glances of Fox in the medical bay being treated after a sideways operation (only after everyone else has been cared for by his firm insistence,) the training assessments he’s able to schedule and be apart of and participate in (swift healing to the pride of cocky shinies he calls to the sparring mat.)

Rather, it’s not impossible that he’s most often unhelmed in the situations of senate view.

Talking down antsy senators is one thing, and there’s numerous reasons why Fox’s number one rule for his Corries to follow is to never remove your helmet in senate view. The ability to decorate yourself and make yourself unique is a freedom the Coruscant guard gets to indulge very little in. They can’t decorate their armor for their own safety, and still enabling them the freedom to decorate their bodies and hair Fox is thankful he’s able to allow. But Fox’s mismatched armor isn’t unique to be hypocritical towards his own rules and troopers. It’s to protect them.

When a senator finds yet another fickle complaint about the troopers in red, they can’t discern amongst a selective Trooper to pin the blame. But in the line of white and red, Fox’s red and white armor catches their eye. There’s someone they can funnel their frustrations towards. Fox’s scars, hardened eyes, and graying hairs is the only face they’ve seen helmetless, the face they think about when building their ire.

[blitzwhore]

19, 46, or 49? Take your pick!

46. Worship

It has always come so naturally to kneel before him. To hand over the reins and give him all that you are. 

It feels no different now, even though everything has changed. You cradle his hand on your own, and his touch is still the gentlest you’ve ever known; the touch of a killer, a lover, a giver of life. You are at eye level, yet he is taller than the world, a blinding beacon of light; and as you give him the crystal, you hand over the fragile and fluttering thing that is your heart, too. 

It has always belonged to him, anyway. 

“I care,” you say, “very deeply for you,” and you hope it can convey all you really feel. The love, the fear; the boundless, immeasurable devotion that you feel towards the man that stands before you. Would you be my partner? is what you silently ask him as you look into his eyes and finally say everything you’ve needed him to know. Would you be my equal? Would you take me—all of me, even the parts I myself cannot bear to hold? 

Would you love me?

Would you stay? 

[kissesandarsenic]

One favorite fantasy of mine is exploring, walking around a magical forest and getting trapped by tendrils/vines. I love bondage, struggling against restraints, tease, edging and denial, also ruined orgasms, and the idea of being trapped like this and not knowing when I'll be free (if at all)

Treat please Mistress 🎃

Happy Halloween in advance 👻

(If this info is relevant: I'm 28, enby, they/them, clit haver)

You're part of a group of scientists that have travelled to an uninhabited island to research the native flora and fauna.

You're new to the team. Over-excited, frustrated by all the semantics in play and how slow everything moves as your supervisors follow the strict guidelines in place. You're constantly being scolded for skipping steps, for peeling off without alerting anyone and putting the party at risk.

Despite their warnings, it doesn't stop you from wandering out alone into the wilderness one night to sate your nagging curiosity.

You don't tell anyone where you're going. That's mistake number one.

Mistake number two comes when you venture out further than you intended. You're too caught up in your own world to notice something watching you. You figure the shudder crawling up your spine is merely the breeze and not a primal instinct. An inate warning.

The third and final mistake comes when you don't start running when the first tendril curls around your leg.

You trip, but are hoisted high up into the air before you can hit the ground. You try to scream but something thick and firm pushes into your mouth, gagging you. Every protest is muffled, and your mouth floods with the taste of bitter green vegetation. A vine. They writhe on the ground beneath you, shifting and bloating. Too many to count. Far too many to fight off.

The vines coil tight around your wrists and ankles, leaving you feeling off balance as you try to wriggle free. Another separates from the pile and makes quick work tearing at your clothing. In seconds, you're naked and utterly vulnerable.

And despite the fear, you're starting to become aroused.

You always were a fan of restraints, and maybe watched a few too many hentai clips. You could blame it on the cool air against your exposed body if you really need an excuse.

But that desire is made worse when a tendril slithers up your leg and rubs at your clit. Slowly at first, but building more and more. More tendrils rise and graze against every erogenous zone on your body, tearing what feeble reservations you have to shreads.

Heat floods your face and those muffled screams for help suddenly veer off into moans. Fuck, this is mortifying. But it feels so good to be held in place and fondled in the dark by sentient, alien plantlife.

A familiar feeling coils in the pit of your stomach and you close your eyes, leaning into that fast approaching release that'll maybe set your brain in order. Let you think properly and plan an escape. But just as you're reaching your finish, the vine on your clit pulls away.

You're left teetering on the edge. Needy, unfulfilled and so fucking foggy with want.

After a minute, the vine returns to rubbing you, building you right back up to that edge. It does it over and over. Ignoring your struggle, your moans and somehow always knowing the exact second to stop before you tumble towards completion.

With the last of your wits about you, you consider what would be worse:

Being found in this desperate, humiliating state by your coworkers, or being enslaved by the vines forever.

Trick or Treat Ask Game! Send in a fantasy with a "Trick" or "Treat" attached and I'll elaborate on it!

[irishmammonagenda]

“What do you think you’re doing?” The Avatar of Gluttony says, uncharacteristically angry, demon form out, bhí a sciatháin ildaite ag bualadh go feargach.

You’re trembling still, the previous altercation sparking in your nerves, although, cool, refreshing relief courses through your veins as you look up at the redhaired Demon.

Beel’s eyes. That was all you could look at. You had seen a plethera of emotions painted in his purple pupils, most commonly serenity, or joy, hunger or thirst, less commonly sadness poisoned his expression, rarely anger, annoyance yes, the expression he’d make before he went on a rampage that was a mix between hunger and anger, yes. But you’d never seen the pure unbridled fury ablaze in his eyes like you were seeing right now.

Not directed at you, never at you. Rather directed at the demon who had tried to give you a beating; Beel had stumbled upon it whilst looking for his twin, and A Thiarna is a Dhia, was he furious. You shivered, it was a scary sight.

Iridescent ildaite wings buzz angrily. The air is thick, Beel runs his tongue over his fangs threateningly, staring menacingly at the demon, who, gaining its senses, flees, tail between its legs. Beel lets it run, having a longtime learned from Lucifer how to play an cluiche cleasach.

Besides, letting the demon wallow in its fear for a while would make it taste a lot better when he disposed of the threat.

He wouldn’t tell you that, though, to protect your soft, pure, sparkling human soul.

Leaving you alone with a seething Demon, you trembled. Normally, you would trust Beelzebub with your life, but the sheer power buzzing around him paired with the rage doused you in icy cold water, a strong reminder that your reisdent softy was ifnfact capable of horrors beyond you comprehension.

You whimper, Beel snaps his head towards you in an instant, the fury in his eyes softening. Suddenly, his hands are on you, pulling you into strong arms. You shake involuntarily.

Beel coos at you in a language long dead, the syllables are harsh and guttural, like waves crashing into the shore. A huge hand comes up to pet your hair, so gentle it almost hurts.

You stay there for a while, in that empty classroom, enveloped in Beel’s arms. Slowly but surely you lean into his touch, your heartrate calmed, your head resting against his muscled chest, it was silly to think even for a moment that he would hurt you, laughable even.

divider by @saradika-graphics

dia daoibh (hello to you [plural]) grma for reading as per usual 🫶🫶, heres the meanings of the words:

‘A Thiarna is a Dhia’ (A year-nah is a Yee-ah’) is a way of saying, ‘Goodness Gracious’/‘Good God’ etc

as per usual I cant write pronounciations😔

‘An Cluiche Cleasach’ (An Clue-Heh Clah-Sa) -The Sneaky Game’, bc i have no idea how to say the long game in irish and cluiche fada sounds wrong.

Now for the big one😰:

‘bhí a sciatháin ildaite ag bualadh go feargach.’

(pronounced: Vee ah Scee-ah-han ill-dat-che egg beh-whale-oo go fair-eh-gawk’)

as per usual the ‘k’ sound in feargach is pronounced with your throat, its technically right to just pronounce it ‘k’ (like the word chick in english) but its not the way native speakers pronounce it‼️

this roughly translates to: ‘His colourful wings were flapping angrily’

bualadh comes from the verb ‘buail’ which can mean a lot of things, but paired with ‘ag’ and ‘sciatháin’ it means ‘flapping wings’

heres a photo of me trying to explain it, please ignore my handwriting i tried to make it neat😔✊