#[Drabble]

[fungateshortcakes]

Munch Munch

OMG I FORGOT I HAD THIS IN MY DRAFTS FORGIVE ME

Just a lil old man Logan drabble bc UGHHH he can crush my head with those juicy arms AHHH

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Logan never understood why you looked at him the way you did.

He was old. He was tired. His body was breaking down from the inside, poisoned by the very thing that once made him invincible. His hands shook more than they used to and no matter how hard he tried to hide it, you saw. You saw everything.

And yet there you were, leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed, giving him that look again. Like he was something worth staring at. Logan wasn’t used to being wanted. Not like this.

He could feel your gaze tracing over his arms as he sat in his white wifebeater at the kitchen table. This was by far not the first time he caught you staring at him like that. He noticed it every time. The way you would watch the flex of his biceps beneath his shirt, the way his forearms tensed whenever he clenched his fists. He wasn’t blind. And if he had any doubts, well, the way you were looking at him right now? Like you wanted to sink your teeth into him? Yeah. That cleared things up really fast.

"You’re staring again" he muttered, though he didn’t cover up, just took another sip of his drink. "Mhm" you hummed completely unapologetic in how you were goggling his arms. You pushed yourself away from the doorframe and stepped in closer, fingers reaching out to lightly drag over his arm, just enough to make his skin prickle.

Logan exhaled sharply through his nose, setting the beer can in his hand down on the table "You got a problem?"

"Yeah, actually" you said, tilting your head. "These arms? They’re just sitting there. Not being held. Not being bitten. Wasted potential, really."

Logan choked on a laugh, a rare sound from him "Bitten? What do you-?" before he could finish his sentence, you leaned in and without hesitation you pressed your teeth lightly against his bicep. Not hard enough to hurt, just enough to make him feel it. A playful little bite that was gone as fast as it came.

Logan went completely still. The only sound was the sharp breath he sucked in through his teeth. You pulled back again and watched his reaction, your lips curling into a satisfied smirk. "Huh, that shut you up really quick."

Logan finally blinked, looking up at you like he wasn’t quite sure what the hell just happened. He opened his mouth but closed it before any words came out, rubbing a hand over his beard and sighing deeply.

"You just bit me" he said, like he was still trying to process it.

You grinned "Yeah. You act like you can just sit here with these babies out and expect me not to."

Logan huffed, shaking his head at your words, but the corner of his mouth twitched. He almost a smiled. Almost. But you counted it as a win nonetheless "You’re goddamn ridiculous" he muttered.

"Maybe" you mused with a pout, poking at his arm again. "Now flex for me, old man. Let me see the goods." you demanded, already munching on your bottom lip in anticipation. You just couldn't help it. You knew he was starting to feel his age, to look it, too. But damn, his arms were still plumb 'n thick. Just how you liked them.

Logan let out a low groan and for a second you thought he would just ignore you, but to your absolute delight, he sat up a little more straight, rolled his shoulders back and flexed- just a little, as if to tease. Just enough to make the veins in his forearms pop, to make the muscles in his biceps shift under his skin.

And goddamn, you swore you felt lightheaded...and how your panties were getting wet. You bit your lip at the sight "Shit" you breathed, your eyes fighting from rolling back because good god "You are so hot."

Logan narrowed his eyes at your praise, grumbling something under his breath, but you caught the way his ears burned just a little bit pink. He could act all gruff and broody, but you knew the truth now.

You were disappointed as he lowered his arm again. You stepped closer, placing your hands on his arms, fingers tracing the muscle slowly, deliberately. A shudder ran up his spine at your touch. He tried to play it down, but he couldn't hide the obvious goosebumps explodig over his scarred skin "Do it again, baby. " you murmured, smoothing over his shoulder and arms.

Logan arched a brow "Again?"

"Again" you stated firmly, it sounded like a command to him. And maybe he would follow it. He rolled his eyes, but you were able to catch the slightest smile on his lips that seemed a little proud, flattered even. It was balm for the soul, your words. You actually wanted to see him, worship something he thought no one cared for anymore. But here you were.

Acting as if he was annoyed by your persistance, he lifted his arm and flexed, this time for real. The muscle in his biceps tensed, thick and solid beneath your hands that wandered over the firm muscle. His forearms flexed, veins running up his skin like a goddamn work of art. The old scars, the roughness, the strength, it was all so perfect. Your forearm next to his biceps looked so small, it made your mouth water.

And you couldn’t help it. You made a sound. A tiny, helpless whimper that you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

Logan froze and his arm lowered slightly "Did you just-?"

"Shut up" you giggled, pressing your face against his shoulder to hide the absolute mess he was making of you "Nah, sweetheart" he said, his voice downright smug and a grin spreading across his face while he stood up, towering over you, wrapping his strong arms around your neck, making you groan as pure, firm muscle surrounded your flushed face "What was that sound?" he teased, his voice low and raspy against your ear

You whined annoyed against his broad chest, wanting him to drop it "Logan"

But he wasn't letting up "You whimpered" he stated matter of factly, clearly enjoying himself "Over my arms."

Your hands slid up his sides, squeezing him. You looked up through your eyelashes, a suggestive grin on your lips "Well, you could just shut me up with these big, strong arms of yours" you purred, leaning up to kiss him. And Logan could already picture the way your teeth would sink into his flesh as he held you in a headlock while pounding his cock into you from behind, leaving deep bite marks on his arms that wouldn’t start to fade until the next morning. He grinned back down at you, capturing your lips in a kiss.

"Let's give you a reason to bite, bub"

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Fuck me he is so hot the best he ever looked and I will DIE on that hill. One chance, ONE FUCKING CHANCE!!!! I am not rlly the girly to randomly bite my partner but istg I would munch and nibble and gnaw on his arms FOREVER they are so big and manly and mhmm and yummy and BARK BARK

I have two more old man Logan drafts I completely forgot about- should I post them too?

[chleem]

One shot/drabble: bf drew x gf yn

Summary: moving in w/drew...except you both don't realize it

Genre: established relationship, pure fluff

⋆.˚ don't copy or translate my work pls

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

It wasn’t a big conversation, nothing dramatic. It was just… happening.

At first, it was simple.

Once a week, you’d sleepover for a day or two. 

In the mornings, you’d wake up next to him, tangled in the blankets, with the soft glow of sunlight streaming in through the windows.

“Hey baby,” he would lazily call out, his blue eyes still half-lidded with sleep, his voice all rough and warm from the night. You’d turn to him, your head resting on his chest, and smile.

He would rummage through different cabinets, finding a spare toothbrush for you to use. You would use his 3 in 1 shampoo, the one that smelled like him. 

When you forgot to bring an extra shirt or pair of jeans, you’d just grab something of his. His oversized tees, the flannel shirts, a jacket that hung too loose on your shoulders but still felt cozy. You’d piece together an outfit with his hats, belts, anything you could find, and it never felt awkward—it just worked.

A few weeks in, you found your favorite mug on his kitchen counter. It wasn’t planned. He hadn’t asked. But there it was—sitting next to his own, like it had always belonged there.

And then came the little details. Your hair tie on the bathroom sink, a pair of your socks tucked under the couch, the book you’d left out on the coffee table now having a permanent spot on his shelf. 

He’d buy you a matching toothbrush, no longer using the cheap spare one. He’d find out your favorite shampoo, buying one and secretly using it, despite having his own. 

The ‘breakthrough’ was your own clothes’ drawer. 

You had a few shirts left behind, a couple of sweaters, nothing too much. But one night, he pulled open the drawer and just offered it to you, as if it had always been meant for you.

“I don’t mind,” he said, his voice still soft with sleep. 

And just like that, a corner of his space was no longer just his. It was yours too. A quiet, unspoken thing.

You’d wake up, and sometimes, he wasn’t there in the sheets. But the smell of pancakes and coffee would linger in the air, along with the soft shimmering of sunlight peeking through the blinds. 

When you’d finally slip out of bed and walk into the kitchen, you’d see him there, dressed and ready for the day, that little smitten smile on his face when he saw you.

“Morning,” his eyes would brighten just for a second, like the day hadn’t really started until you were there with him.

He’d know how you liked your coffee, of course. And he’d smile like he didn’t have anywhere to be, just so he could steal a few more minutes of conversation, talking about everything and nothing.

But what really established that you ‘moved in’?

When he gave you a spare key. 

It wasn’t done in a grand gesture way, but more when he casually handed it to you one morning, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. You hadn’t asked for it. You hadn’t even mentioned needing it.

“Don’t ring the wrong door,” he said, that familiar grin tugging at his lips, eyes twinkling with that lazy humor he always had.

With more time spent together, you’ve slowly gotten accustomed to each others’ habits and routines. 

The little things started to sync up without thinking—even your schedules. You’d catch yourself adding things to his calendar—dinner dates, weekend plans, or just time to relax together.

Soon, it wasn’t just his calendar, but yours too. You both had been marking your days together, like it had always been this natural.

A rare occasion was when you’d get up earlier than him, quietly slipping out of bed to prepare breakfast. 

And then, just when you thought you had a moment to yourself, he’d slip into the kitchen behind you, his arms wrapping around your waist, his breath warm on the back of your neck.

“Need help?” he’d murmur, his voice thick with sleep, but always with that soft smile you’d grown to love.

And then there was his work as an actor: his constant need to rehearse lines out loud, pacing the apartment like he was on stage, his voice bouncing off the walls in a way that had become comforting rather than distracting.

Sometimes, you’d even chime in and practice along with him. 

It wasn’t just the drawer anymore either. You’d started to have a space in the closet, a shelf in the bathroom. Little by little, more of you was making itself at home there—without needing to talk about it.

And then, one day, he realized you had moved in—without ever speaking a word about it. 

He’d catch himself, a smile tugging at his lips as he saw your things around the apartment, and how you’re always there. 

“You wanna... get a pet?” he’d ask suddenly, his eyes gleaming with that same mischievous spark they always had, but now mixed with something softer, more permanent.

You’d pause, surprised by the question but somehow knowing it made sense.

 A pet? Yeah, that felt like the next step. Just another way of making this space—your space—feel like home.

-------------------------------

word count: 0.8k

࣪𖤐 a/n: st random i thought of, of how it feels to be his

other

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Barter 8

Warnings: dub/noncon, smutty smut, I am a dark blog and I write dark things.

Summary: You are bargained to be wife to the witcher if he can slew the beast in the village.

Character: Geralt of Rivia

**note, I am not a Witcher genius or aficionado and so I may get some things wrong.

As usual, I appreciate any and all feedback and enthusiasm. Please reblog and leave a comment. Love! 😍

In his absence, your husband's, you have peace but little energy to do more than sleep. You still find that word strange. Husband. And you are a wife.

You eat the rations he leaves and soak in the hot tub he has drawn on your behalf. It soothes but cannot heal completely. You crawl into the bed and nestle into the blankets and his scent. You doze without a twitch or thought.

You wake only as the door shuts. He is gentle as to not disturb you but even so, you stir. You are still unclothed. The remnants of your clothing were unsalvagable.

He has a bundle under his arm and basket in the other. He sets the latter on the table and brings the former to you as you drag yourself up to sitting. Your thighs and bottom pulse and your insides knot.

He lays the bundle on your lap. You touch in tenderly and examined the twine holding it all together. You tilt your chin up, "thank you, husband."

"Wife," he nods.

You look to the wool-wrapped gift. You untie the string as he looms. You push back the outer layer to uncover a dyed dress within. A shade of green like fir needles. A shift too, and belt, boots, and stockings. You marvel over it with curious fingertips.

"It is all very nice, husband," you praise.

He grunts and points to the mess of fabric strewn over your legs. You keep one arm tight to your side to hold the blanket over your chest. You take the stockings and unroll them. Within, there is a small wooden box.

You peek up at him before you wiggle the lid free. Within, a ring, silver and moonstone. A perfect oval with a frame of delicately wrought thorns, as if a crow's talon were cradling the rock.

You admire it and he cups your hand with his abruptly. He takes the band as he flips your palm down and forces it to your knuckle. You keep your hand still and force a smile.

"It is beautiful--"

"It will keep you close," he insists and lets you go. "As I would always have you."

He bends and gathers the clothing in his arms. He heaps it upon a chair and faces you again. He unclasps his cloak as his eyes shine in the dim light of the crackling hearth.

He is concise in undressing. He strips the layers away without faltering. He consumes you with a gaze before he approaches to do the same in body.

He pets your face and nuzzles into your cheek. He drags his touch to your shoulder and guides you onto your side. He reclines behind you, moulding his body perfectly to yours.

He tickles along your pelvis and traces your slit. He prods at your thigh until you lift your leg. You balance a foot on his calf and he rubs you firmly, swirling and swiping until you skicken.

He spreads you with two thick fingers and shifts to angle his tip between his knuckles. He pushes into you, no easier than the night before as your walls clench around him. He sighs as he thrusts up to your limit.

You arch your back but the pressure only shifts. You put a hand on his hip and squeeze, biting down on the stretch. You breathe through your teeth, little moans trickling out.

He puffs and pumps against you, faster and faster, his voice cloying around you as his grunts grow guttural. He ruts up into you until the bed shakes and scrapes on the floor. He spreads his hand over your pelvis, his middle finger toying with your bud until you spasm and squeak in release.

Still, the uncoiling of tension is not enough to assuage his intrusion. He pounds into you as the thunder of slapping skin deafens you to the noise of the tavern below. His breath blows over you like a tempest and he snares you in a cloud of pleasure.

When he is still, you drift back to the waking world. He caresses up and down your stomach as his skin blazes against yours. His chest presses to you and deflates in an even tempo. He trails up your neck and flutters across the top of your chest.

"We must away shortly," he grumbles. "And you will learn the road quickly. You must if you are to be my wife."

[daydreamteardrop]

Girlhood - Sylus x Reader Drabble

Note: Hello! This is a drabble Ive started, maybe I'll continue it. I thought about how Sylus would be so up for helping MC be more confident in a girly style, because her whole life she wasnt allowed to present girly for her safety. (im massively projecting). Grandma Josephine is carrying the brunt of that LMAOOO, idk, is not being a Josephine fan controversial?

Not beta read, we explode like Josephine.

Spoilers for Sylus' Story!

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• °.•

Girlhood wasn't really something you got to grow into.

Middle school introduced the full throttle of make-up, accessories and hairstyles onto the girls your age. And you found it fun, in fact, you always wanted to join the bandwagon.

But your dear gran was just so worried. She'd hold your hands tight and tell you that presenting so feminine can be dangerous. You will be stared at, perhaps even talked to by strangers, god - it would hurt your dear Grandma's heart should you walk outside while presenting in a girlish way. She'd be worried sick.

‘The boys would stare…’

‘Think about the way home, it gets dark so quickly during fall and winter.’

'It's unsightly.’

‘You are way too young.’

‘You’d get unwanted attention.’

And you didn't want to worry her.

So with a sad smile you were always the odd one out. You'd wear big T-shirts and pants. The girls in your class looked at you with such a pitiful yet mocking expression. One time they even ‘accidentally’ cut your hair and when Caleb picked you up from school that day, your silent begging to just go home was the only thing that stopped him from acting against the bullies. Grandma saw it as an opportunity to keep your hair short. It stayed the same even in highschool, where you were mistaken as Caleb's little brother once.

In the Hunter Academy, you were able to loosen the insistence of your grandma and managed to grow your hair to just above your shoulder again.

When you first wore the official Hunter's uniform, you couldn't be happy. The only thought that crossed your mind was ‘Grandma would worry if she saw the bare stomach.’.

When Tara would try to convince you to do anything girlish, you'd decline with a sour smile. Too scared, too constricted.

Even when the explosion took her, you just couldn't free yourself of the shackles.

-

Now, the dress Sylus made you wear for the auction was…gorgeous. The black and velvet felt so nice on your skin, it was practical to move in. The accessories glittered and reflected the dim lighting of the hallway. You didn't dare touch your hair, not knowing how, so the matching black claw-clip was in your hand. You didn't have any make-up you could use. And so it felt sinful to walk along this disgustingly expensive carpet in heels you weren't used to.

He held his hand out for you to take and wore that smirk. Black gloves met his calloused hand and he observed you. Looked you up and down and there was no way to tell if his gaze was scrutinizing. Red eyes met your face and then your hair, then to the claw clip in your hand.

“...not to your taste?”

“That's not it…”

Fingers clenched around the material of the hair accessory. He raised an eyebrow, urging you to continue.

“...I don't know how to put it in. I mean, it's kinda obvious how to, but-”

Before you could bring a finished sentence into the room, he grabbed the clip from your hand and spoke “Turn around.”

“Huh?”

He sighed. “I'll help you.”

With a bit of hesitation you turned around. Something about turning your back to the Onychinus leader was unnerving, an inner part of your brain scratched that it was crazy, but the moment his hands pulled your hair to the back with an uncharacteristic gentleness, the scratch stopped. He left a bit of hair out on purpose, letting it frame your face, and clasped the rest in place neatly by the claw clip.

Your hand traced over it carefully and you turned around and met his eyes. He huffed, satisfied with himself and put his hands in his pant pockets.

You recall the sentence that left him earlier.

‘No one can stay wary, when there's a beauty walking around.’

You're not used to being described with that adjective.

-

After the auction, Sylus waved you off when you wanted to return the dress and its accessories to him.

‘It was tailored for you. It's yours now.’

His way of using his money was…questionable to you. The dress was miles outside of your budget range and you hung it straight and neatly, in order to not even get a hint of a wrinkle in the luxurious fabric.

Closet doors were open and you stared at it, like it was some sort of glorious painting in a museum.

‘Maybe I should frame it.’ you thought as you sighed dreamily. When the tips of your hair slide over the back of your neck, you shudder, because it reminds you of Sylus' fingertips in your hair when putting it up with the clip.

Your poor pillow is the target of your suppressed squeal. A dress was in your possession.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

DaydreamTeardrop2025

[multi-fandom-imagine]

𝐋𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐌𝐞𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐞 || 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐲 𝐁𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐨𝐧 ||

A/n: on this kick again 🤭

If there was one thing Theodore James Bridgerton loved almost as much as his parents, it was his Uncle Colin. And with all the love a two-year-old could possess, Theo had made it his personal mission in life to scare Colin Bridgerton at every possible opportunity.

No one really knew how it started. Perhaps it was the infamous paint-on-the-face incident, or maybe it was simply that Theo found Uncle Colin’s reactions particularly hilarious. Either way, a war had been declared, and only one Bridgerton knew about it—and it certainly was not Colin.

The First Attack – The Surprise Under the Desk

It had been an unusually peaceful afternoon at Bridgerton House. Colin was in his study, completely engrossed in writing in his travel journal. With a quill in hand and deep in thought, he failed to notice the tiny figure creeping beneath his desk.

You, watching from the hallway, silently gasped as you spotted your son slithering like a little gremlin into the study, his small body barely making a sound as he tucked himself underneath Colin’s desk.

You barely had enough time to think as Colin, blissfully unaware of the danger lurking beneath him, dipped his quill into the ink, sighing deeply. “Ah, peace and quiet at la—”

“RAAAAHHH!”

A small but ferocious scream erupted from beneath the desk as Theo latched onto Colin’s leg, shaking it with all his two-year-old strength.

Colin let out an undignified yelp, nearly knocking over the entire ink bottle. His chair scraped violently against the floor as he practically levitated out of his seat.

“GOOD LORD—”

The entire house erupted with laughter as Colin clutched his chest, looking down to find a giggling little monster rolling onto the floor in pure joy.

You covered your mouth, shaking with laughter as Anthony walked by, not even surprised at this point. He paused, looked inside the study, saw Colin looking like he’d just seen a ghost, and simply nodded approvingly at Theo.

“Well done, son,” Anthony murmured as he walked past.

Colin pointed at the little menace, still rolling with laughter on the floor. “HE HAS NO FEAR.”

Theo gasped between giggles. “BOO, UNCLE COLIN!” The two year old oblivious to his Uncle's plight's

Colin groaned, rubbing his face. “Oh, it’s going to be a long few years.”

The Next Attack – The Closet Ambush

Colin was paranoid after the desk incident, but not paranoid enough. Not according to his younger sister at least.

Days later, Colin made his way toward the coat closet to retrieve his jacket before heading out to meet Benedict. What he didn’t know was that Theo had been placed in the closet moments before by Eloise, who had gleefully encouraged his schemes.

The door creaked open.

Colin reached inside, humming to himself—

“ROAR!”

A tiny blur launched itself at his legs.

Colin screamed.

Theo, laughing hysterically, wrapped his tiny arms around Colin’s knees while Eloise collapsed against the wall wheezing.

Anthony, walking by yet again, paused, took one look at the scene, and nodded with great approval.

“Impressive.”

Colin, clutching the doorframe for dear life, turned to Anthony, utterly betrayed. “Do you encourage this?”

Anthony smirked, scooping Theo up. “I’d be a terrible father if I didn’t.”

Theo, still giggling in his father’s arms, pointed at Colin. “I got you, Uncle Colin!”

Colin dragged a hand down his face. “Yes, yes, again.”

Eloise, still laughing breathlessly, grinned. “I think it’s hilarious.”

Colin groaned. “He’s two. What happens when he gets faster?”

Anthony’s smirk widened. “Then, dear brother, I suggest you start running.”

The Ultimate Attack – The Ghost of Aubrey Hall

Colin thought he had seen the worst of Theo’s antics.

He was wrong of course.

One late evening at Aubrey Hall, Colin was making his way toward the library when the candles suddenly flickered. The hallway was eerily silent, save for the faint sound of…

Giggling?

Colin paused, eyes narrowing. “…Hello?”

Silence.

Then—

A tiny white sheet with two poorly cut holes for eyes appeared in the doorway.

“OOOOOoooooOOOOHHHHHH!”

Colin nearly collapsed against the wall, his soul leaving his body.

“NO.”

The tiny ghost toddled forward, arms raised menacingly.

“BOO!

Colin flinched so hard that he stumbled backward, crashing straight into the wall.

Theo, delighted beyond belief, ripped the sheet off, his giggles shaking his tiny body.

“I GOT YOU, UNCLE COLIN! AGAIN!”

Benedict walked by, took one look at the scene—Colin collapsed on the floor, looking like he had seen death itself, Theo squealing with victory—and burst out laughing so loudly that you heard it from two rooms away.

Anthony entered next, arms crossed, shaking his head with pride.

“I swear, Colin, it’s as if you’re not even trying to defend yourself,” Anthony remarked.

Colin, still breathing heavily, glared at his older brother. “I am at war with a toddler, Anthony.”

Theo clapped his hands with joy. “UNCLE COLIN SAID WAR!”

Anthony smirked. “I’d surrender now if I were you.”

Benedict chuckled. “Or else you might not survive the next attack.”

Theo, eyes twinkling, pointed directly at Colin. “More boo laterrrr.”

Colin groaned, dragging a hand over his face, the man's heart still pounding in his chest.

“I have to sleep with one eye open for the next ten years, don’t I?”

Eloise, now arriving and hearing everything, smirked. “At least ten years.”

Colin sighed dramatically. “I hate all of you.”

Theo beamed. “Love you, Uncle Colin!”

Colin stared at him for a long moment before exhaling in defeat. “…Love you too, little menace.”

And so, the war between Theo and Uncle Colin continued—because for all his suffering, Colin secretly loved the chaos and most of all, Colin loved his adorable little nephew.

[paniniani]

“support him from under the desk!” : kiri x reader! nsfw

thanks for the suggestion <3 hope you enjoy! i loved the other options in the poll as well so stay tuned for more 👀 pls send suggestions!

"DENKI HELP WHERE ARE YOU" kirishima screamed into his mic as his fortnite character, appropriately his own skin, attempted to sprint away from his attacker. you could feel his muscles tensing with stress from your position behind him on the couch, your head on his shoulder as you witnessed what could have been the worst teamwork you've ever seen.

"oops sorry man..." you heard echoing from his headphones, rolling your eyes at denki's avatar, who was now dancing on top of kirishima's dead body. "denki. bro. i know you can do better than this. we're not gonna stand a chance against sero and mina if we don't get our act together." giggling at how much he cared about this, you pulled him back against you, wrapping your arms around his stomach.

"aw come on kiri, don't be so hard on yourself! it's just a game!" you whispered into his ear, making sure to point his mic away so denki wouldn't make fun of him later. he leaned into your touch, sighing with contentment as the stress of the game faded away.

"yeah, i guess so. maybe the next game is gonna be the one!" always the optimist, he smiled back at you as the round began, re-adjusting his mic. he'd been playing for hours, wasn't it time for a little break? he was so focused on the tv that he hadn't even noticed how needy you were for him. teasing your fingers at the hem of his shirt, you traced your hands up and down his chest, taking your time over every hardened muscle of his abs.

still no reaction? you didn't realize he cared so much about this dumb game... taking it a step forward, you ghosted your pointer finger into the waistband of his sweatpants, toying with the elastic as you pressed a soft kiss to his neck. as much as he tried to remain focused on the game, his deep sigh and dip of his throat gave him away. you almost had him.

"kiri baby?" you whispered in between kisses, causing him to shiver. "yeah?" he choked out as you sucked extra hard on his neck. "gotta win this one y/n.. need denki to actually help me-" pressing your soft lips to his, you groaned into his mouth as you looked at him with needy eyes. "let me help you instead?" his stomach dropped with desire, he wanted nothing more than to bend you over on the couch and take you right there. "baby i gotta finish this game, i promise i'll take good care of you a-af-" pulling his sweats down, you slowly traced your hand down his bare thigh, causing him to barely close his mouth in time before a moan escaped.

"come on love.. you're distracting me with all this teasing.. can't take it anymore". a wicked grin on your face, you gently wrapped your hand around his pleading cock, stroking it up and down so lightly that he could barely feel it. "you can take it" you murmured into his ear, causing him to buck up into your hand, whining your name. looking up at the screen, you saw another duo approaching and slowed down your motions. "uh oh baby.. whatcha gonna do?" squeezing his eyes shut for a second, his hands moved across the controller rapid-fire, switching guns rapidly. as he killed the first person, you gripped his dick again, pumping up and down.

"a-AH... p-please y/n... can't focus.." taking pity on him, you pulled away, standing up and moving around while he took care of the next opponent. holding back giggles, you waited for him. as his enemies dissolved on the screen, he let out a sigh of relief, letting his legs spread wide open and head fall back with relief. seeing movement in the corner of his eye, he looked over to where you stood...now completely naked, and looking at him like you were going to devour him whole.

"ohmygod" he choked out, eyebrows drawn together in desire. "holyshitbabyi'mnotdoneyet", you slowly walked over to him, settling between his knees on the floor so that you wouldn't block his view, smirking at how much his cock was leaking all for you. "oh yeah? thought i'd give you a special reward for doing so good..." not even letting him get a word out in reply, you gripped his dick again, ripping a groan from his throat. taking your time with him, you slowly licked the tip, letting your tongue trace around every vein on his massive dick.

"mmhh... baby please don't stop" he whined as he shifted his hips back and forth, seeking out any friction he could get. your core pulsed at his need, feeling yourself get wet with slick at his sounds. you tried to wrap your lips around him, but he was so big that he filled up your entire throat, causing you to choke on him as you took him one excruciating inch at a time. "f-fuck... baby.... pleaseplease suck me like that.... look so fucking beautiful y/n..." keening from the praise, you moaned around his dick, watching him attempt to keep it together enough to at least finish the game. suctioning down on him, you pumped your hand faster and faster while you worked the other half with your mouth, tasting his addictive salty pre.

"y/n y/n y/n y/n gonna- i'm gonna- can't hold it in- please please baby been so good for you please let me-aaAH" he came with a gutteral groan, eyes rolling back and thighs shaking rapidly, encasing you between them. feeling his warm cum flow down your throat with ease, you slowly pulled yourself off him and looked at the sight in front of you. abs twitching, panting like he'd just run a marathon, he gazed at you like you were the most incredible thing in the world.

"holy shit." "yea-" he was cut off by a scream from his headset: "WHAT THE FUCK BRO OH MY GO-" ripping it off his head, he turned off the game at lightning speed. oops. guess he forgot to mute.

[eeboyysworld]

“ Sex in the city- “

—⋆.˚⊹ ࿔⋆.˚

Genre: Smut

Frontman X Ftm!Reader

Cautions/Warnings: Latex sex, vaginal fingering, edging, squirting, use of cunt and pussy , semi-public sex, no plot jumping straight to it.

｡ﾟ•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

The sound of desperation danced the walls of a fancy darkened limo, your knees shaking from holding up for so long, nearly giving out.

Jolts of pleasure swept through you, throwing your head back, letting yourself get lost in temporarily bliss.

Teeth scrapped your throat, dragging up and down, red thrash marks adorning the flesh.

You could hear your own wetness, two fingers covered in latex plunging in and out of your cunt, the absurd sound of squelching unmistakable.

The cold sensation hitting your spot every-time, ripping pure sobs outta you. Clenching your thighs around the man’s lap you sat in, locking him in.

“Doing so good for me, aren’t you?” He was dazed by the way your hole kept sucking in his fingers, spreading yourself on the digits, fluids flowing onto the rubber.

Frantically nodding your head , chorus of ‘yes’s fumbling out of your plucked lips. The arousal pooled your stomach, each time flowing closer and closer.

Yelping when a swift thumb circled your clit, the stimulation leaving you a babbling mess, pleading for it. “M-more!”

Adding pressure to the little bundle of nerves, feeling your warm gummy walls clench around him, letting out a groan at the tightness.

The urge to fuck into you raw, spilling his seed in you, was desirable. He couldn’t do that now, not when you were already so undone by his mere finger. It could wait.

He kept driving his middle and ring finger into you, drinking up the way you trembled in his hold. He watched the way your hips rolled, trying to create more friction.

Pulling out before you could release, leaving you to clench around nothing.

Whines escaped you, missing the feeling of him. “Pleasee..” fluttering your lashes, managing the best pity looked face you could bear.

You could feel yourself pulsing, could feel the pad of the glove just an inch away. The other man was quiet, unexpectedly calm, despite his own desire to eat you out right then and there.

Slowly, his finger slide its way back into you. Biting down your lip, agyonizily waiting.

“Go ahead,” Looking downwards , the sight of his fingers nestled in you . “ Fuck yourself with them.”

He spoke like he was ordering coffee for fuck sakes.

Frustrated was evident upon a glance at your flushed face, beads of sweat clinging to the locks of hair.

Hips stuttering as you began to grind, bringing yourself up and down. Movements shy , before the craving for release took on.

Leeching yourself to his neck, settling on nibbling the fabric that covered the flesh. “Fuck—“

Curling his finger inside you, letting you do the work before matching your pace.

The familiar feeling of pressure loosening inside your stomach, told you that you were close. Gripping down onto him, wetness slipping down the glove.

Everything became sloppy, your legs shaking from pleasure, moaning into the air. “Oh— P-please—“ hands gripping the other man’s broad shoulders.

He urged you on, “Come on baby—“ thrusting his fingers in and out ,with such a pace you knew you could see his veins if he wasn’t wearing said gloves.

Warm wetness coated him, liquid dripping down onto the pants he wore, ultimately soaking it with your mess.

He pulled out ,letting the juices flow, slapping your pussy enough to have you shaking as you rode the high.

Becoming limp in his hold, knees digging into leather, hugging him tightly. Muttering a ‘sorry’ about his pants.

His glove was long off, gently patting your head , whispering it’s alright as long as you’re relieved.

Rocking you back and forth subconsciously, the silence lasted a minute before he said a few of your favourite words.

“You hungry?” That made you jump up, throwing your pants back on, ignoring the way you wobbled up.

“—you know me so well.”

———

Frontman needs to be the back man Lowkey

Thanks for all the likes , I rlly appreciate it🙏🩷🩷🩷‼️‼️

[heretoobsessstuff]

what took you so long?

A tender moment between john and gale in stalag, written for mota's 1 year anniversary and the beginning of the way they consumed my life lol.

John woke up one night to find Gale in his space.

*

It wasn’t unusual for Gale to hover nearby now. To watch him carefully when he thought John was sleeping. To trace his broken eye socket tenderly before sighing and retiring to his own bunk. But this was different.

Gale had been restless all evening. John had noticed the way he kept fidgeting, the way he looked over at John more than once as if he wanted to say something but he never did.

John hadn’t pressed. He knew Gale and he knew pressuring him would end up doing the exact opposite of drawing him out of his shell. He let Gale sit in his usual spot near the bunk and pretended not to notice how he stayed there longer than necessary, even when the lights were out and everyone else had gone to sleep. John closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come. Eventually, Gale had gone to bed as well.

Or so John thought.

Now, as John blinked blearily in the dark of the night, he realized Gale wasn’t in his own bunk.

He was sitting on the floor, knees drawn up, back pressed lightly against the edge of John’s mattress.

This was it. John took a slow breath. “Couldn’t sleep?”

Gale didn’t startle.

Didn’t move.

He just exhaled quietly. “No.”

John shifted up onto his elbows, watching him. “Why are you down there?”

A beat.

Then, soft, hesitant..

“…I wanted to be close.”

John felt something in his chest ache.

He reached out, slow and deliberate, brushing his knuckles against Gale’s shoulder. “Come up here.”

Gale hesitated.

Then, carefully, deliberately, he moved.

John barely had time to shift before Gale was easing into the bed beside him gingerly, not quite touching, but close enough that John could feel his warmth and the slight shake of his limbs.

Gale let out a slow breath, his fingers twitching slightly against the blankets.

John watched him carefully. Then, quietly he whispered 

“Come here.”

Gale shivered. Eyeing John for a second before finally, he gave in.

He shifted closer, pressing into John’s side, his head tilting just slightly toward him.

John let out a slow breath, moving his head to rest lightly against Gale’s. “You okay?”

Gale swallowed.

“…I think so.”

John let his hand trace over Gale’s wrist, grounding. He felt Gale exhale, leaning into him a little more.

And John knew.

Gale wasn’t just letting himself be close.

He was asking for it. Not in words, but in ways he knew John understood. In ways John had learned about Gale over years of knowing him.

John could feel it, the way he was right there, close enough that he could reach for him easily, pull him close enough that John could feel the heat of him, but still holding back.

Still keeping that last bit of distance.

And John had let him. For weeks, he had let Gale take his time, let him hover just close enough, let him almost reach for him but never quite. He had been patient even though patience was never his forte. But now that Gale was here, now that he was looking at John like he wanted something but didn’t know if he was allowed to have it, John wasn’t waiting anymore.

“Come here.”

Gale inhaled sharply.

John didn’t move.

Didn’t pull him in.

Didn’t force it.

He just offered.

And this time Gale took it.

He moved slowly at first, hesitant, like he still wasn’t sure if he should. But the second John reached for him, really reached, with both arms, steady and certain, Gale let out a shaky breath and melted.

John had been holding himself back for weeks.

Now, finally, he didn’t have to.

His arms wrapped around Gale, solid and unshaking, pulling him in, pressing him against his chest the way he had wanted to all those long nights when Gale had been too far away. Nights when he wasn’t even sure if he’d ever feel Gale again.

Gale didn’t resist.

Didn’t tense.

Didn’t hold himself back.

He just went.

Went into John’s space, into John’s arms, like he had been waiting for this just as much as John had. His body eased against him, his weight pressing fully into John, like he trusted him to hold him up, to keep him steady.

John exhaled slowly, one hand smoothing over Gale’s back, the other pressing warm and steady between his shoulder blades.

He felt Gale shudder and he knew it wasn’t from pain or exhaustion. It was from relief.

John squeezed his eyes shut, breathing him in.

Finally.

Finally, finally.

His hand moved up slowly, brushing against the back of Gale’s neck. Touching the blond baby hairs tenderly. His voice was low, warm. 

“What took you so long?”

Gale let out a soft, breathless sound, half a laugh, half a sigh.

Then, muffled against John’s blouse,

“I didn’t know if I could.”

John pulled back just enough to see his face. “And now?”

Gale swallowed, his fingers curling loosely in the fabric of John’s shirt. “Now I don’t want to stop.”

John’s chest ached.

He cupped the side of Gale’s face, thumb brushing over his cheekbone. “Then don’t.”

Gale inhaled shakily. His eyes were softer now. Still tired, still carrying everything he had been holding onto, but softer. More himself.

John tilted his forehead against Gale’s, voice quiet. “I wanted to give you space”

Gale’s breath caught. “I know John” a pause “don’t want space anymmore” 

John tightened his arms around him. “then stay right here.”

Gale sighed, exhaling long and slow, pressing himself closer. 

And John just held him.

Held him the way he had wanted to for so long.

Held him the way he needed to.

Held him until Gale finally, finally let go of the distance between them.

over the past few weeks my beloved moots @joeyalohadream @middlingmay @onyxsboxes @trekkiehood and @stars-remain2 have tagged me in last line tags and word finding games. i just wanted to say i appreciate u guys thinking abt little old me sm and i hope this makes up for those <3

[prettylilyanime]

Blooming Hearts ♡ DRABBLE 01

˚✿˖ Pairing: Bakugou Katsuki x fem reader

˚✿˖ Synopsis: In which Bakugou not only taught you how to use the public transportation system, but also the wonders of a 7/11 (A continuation from chapter 5 / deleted scene from chapter 6)

˚✿˖ tags/warnings: 18+, smut in the later chapters, reader is spoiled, shy reader, they're all third years at UA, Fluff, strangers? to lovers trope, not really strangers, miscommunication, drama, y/n just wants to make friends, reader is canonically pretty, reader is a hero in training, whipped bakugou, she falls first but he falls harder

˚✿˖ Authors note: This Drabble is a continuation of this chapter!

˚✿˖ Masterlist

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The train ride had been… an experience.

Between Bakugou’s attitude (which you’re learning is incredibly sassy) your near-death encounter with inertia and stiletto boots, and the fact that his hand had been on your waist for far longer than necessary, you were convinced your heart had been put through an endurance test.

Aizawa and his crazy assignments could never get this level of heart pounding anxiety from you.

But somehow, miraculously, you made it to your stop without combusting!

Which led you here.

A 7-Eleven.

The sushi spot you had been craving had been sadly temporarily closed for renovations, and this store had been right around the corner.

“Wow, this is incredible! I’ve never been in one of these before!” you gasp, eyes sparkling as you take in the rows of cheap candies, brightly colored cup ramen, and an ungodly amount of processed snacks.

So many different flavors to choose from!!

Behind you, a deep, unimpressed voice deadpans, “It’s literally just a 7-Eleven.”

You, of course, blatantly ignore him. Instead, you grab a small shopping basket—its handle slightly wobbly, the paint chipping at the edges—and immediately start filling it with snacks like a kid let loose in a candy store.

“This might just be my new favorite store!!” you announce, practically vibrating with excitement as you move toward the freezer section.

You scan the ice cream selection with growing delight, marveling at the sheer variety of brands and flavors—all for a shockingly low price.

This so beats the organic, gluten-free, sugar-free, fun-free supermarkets your mom usually had her staff shop at on your behalf.

Bakugou, who has been trailing behind you like an exhausted babysitter, watches as you pluck a pink tub of strawberry swirl ice cream from the fridge. Your face lights up at the cute graphics on the packaging.

is that a strawberry cow?! Eeek!

“I’ll get this one too,” you hum, hugging the tub to your chest like a prized possession.

Bakugou nearly rolls his eyes into another dimension. “Taught ya how to take the damn train to become a better hero, and now you’re gonna kill it all with this shitty food.”

You gasp, clutching the ice cream closer like it’s your firstborn child.

“Are you joking?!” you exclaim. “This ice cream is gonna make me feel better before I go to sleep! This is incredible!”

Bakugou snorts as you absentmindedly go to adjust your glasses—except, oh, wait.

You’re not wearing them.

Your fingers meet empty air, your contacts having replaced your usual frames for the night.

A slow, knowing smirk stretches across Bakugou’s face.

Your ears heat up. Hastily, you shove your ice cream into the basket he’s—when did that happen?!—holding and mumble, “Shut up. It’s a habit.”

He doesn’t even bother with a comeback.

He doesn’t have to.

The glint of amusement in his sharp, crimson eyes says everything.

In just one day—somehow spent mostly by your side—Bakugou has come to one solid, undeniable conclusion:

You’re just like the rest of his idiot friends.

Just blessed with a far better face than shitty hairs or dunce face.

Honestly, before today, he half-wondered if you were mute. That theory shattered the moment you started rambling in the middle of the station, your excited outbursts completely at odds with the cool, composed image you gave off.

The new you in front of him was almost jarring.

Not that he’d ever really paid much attention to you before.

You were just quiet. Unusually so. You didn’t hover around the usual class friend groups, never really stuck with the girls of 1-A. He would’ve noticed—he’s been dragged to enough forced social outings by Kirishima to be painfully aware of the class dynamics.

Yet somehow, three years into your degree, he was only just now hearing what your voice actually sounded like.

Not that you were forgettable—far from it. Your face was one of the first he recognized when he stepped into class 1-A on his first day of freshman year.

And your last name? Impossible to ignore.

Bakugou never really gave a shit either way.

But one thing had caught his attention—the way people wouldn’t shut up about you when it came to the Big Three. It was no surprise when he, Deku, and Todoroki solidified their spots. That was a given. But you?

He remembers his brows raising when he first heard your name being thrown around in the conversation. He wasn’t necessarily threatened, just... intrigued.

The media adored you. Your social accounts had more followers than any other student at U.A., and magazines were already fighting for the chance to put you on their covers.

All the while, you could barely mutter a full sentence to anyone in class.

Now, watching you stand in the middle of a 7-Eleven, holding two cans of soda in your perfectly manicured hands, he can’t help but snort to himself. You carefully scan the sugar content on the labels like it actually matters—only to immediately toss both cans into the basket without hesitation.

Figures.

“Y’know, if you’re just gonna buy both, why waste time lookin’ at the numbers?” he asks, shifting the basket to one hand as he watches your little decision-making process unfold.

You huff, completely unbothered. “It’s about making an informed choice.”

“Bullshit. You just wanted both.”

You shoot him a look but don’t bother denying it, instead grabbing a pack of Pocky and tossing that into the basket too.

You’re already fixated on the next aisle, eyes practically sparkling at the ridiculous variety of instant noodles. He’s never seen someone get this excited over convenience store food in his life.

And somehow, he finds himself following along, weirdly unbothered by all of your little quirks that would have had him rolling his eyes and snapping at all the other idiots in his life.

Bakugou clicks his tongue, annoyed at his own thoughts.

Comparing you to the extras he’s been stuck with for years? What kind of bullshit was that?

Yet, as he watches you crouch down to examine the instant ramen selection like it’s some kind of treasure hoard, he realizes—against his better judgment—that it doesn’t piss him off the way it should.

You hum thoughtfully, manicured fingers tracing over different flavors, your brows furrowing in deep concentration. “How am I supposed to choose just one?” you mumble, more to yourself than to him.

He snorts. “You’re not. You’re gonna throw at least three in the basket and pretend like you struggled to decide.”

You gasp, turning to glare at him, scandalized. “You think you know me so well, huh?”

“I know an indecisive dumbass when I see one.”

And just as he predicted, you grab three different flavors and plop them into the basket without another word.

Bakugou exhales through his nose, shaking his head. Somehow, despite himself, he follows as you dart to yet another shelf, eyes alight with childlike wonder.

He should be annoyed. Should be telling you to hurry the hell up so you can both get out of here, but instead, he just watches as you get distracted by a random keychain display near the register, fiddling with a tiny All Might figure that probably wouldn’t even fit on your fancy designer bag.

“This is so cute,” you murmur, flipping it over in your hands before glancing at the other characters on the rack. A tiny Bakugou keychain dangles right in front of you, and before he can react, you’re holding it up with a smirk.

“Oooh, look, it’s you,” you tease, shaking it so the little chibi version of him bobs wildly.

Bakugou scowls. “Put that shit back.”

You only laugh, placing it back on the hook (but in a better spot, front and center, because you think it’s actually pretty adorable).

By the time you finally reach the register, your basket is overflowing. Bakugou just stares at it, unimpressed. “Y’gonna eat all this tonight or somethin’?”

You shake your head, grinning. “No, well maybe the icecream, yes.”

He rolls his eyes but doesn’t argue, As the cashier hands you the bag, you beam like you’ve just won the lottery.

And for some reason, as the two of you step back into the cool night air, Bakugou finds himself shaking his head with something that—if he didn’t know better—almost feels like amusement.

What the hell was he getting himself into?

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[synthetickitsune]

S.Coups (SVT) | Manifestation crack | 0.7k | gn!reader warnings: dick size discussion A/N: never let me talk to @hanniedream this isn't what i thought i'd be writing today. also why did this turn out so angsty

“What did you do?” Seungcheol’s quiet growling, his no-nonsense tone, doesn’t carry too far in the silent cafe.

“What do you mean?” you ask, sipping the drink you paid for, and slide his own cup closer to him. He’s so enraged that he almost crushes the cup with his grip.

“You know what I mean,” he snarls.

You hum and look out of the window. Perhaps you do, but you want to hear him say it loud and clear. Although maybe not that loud, you don’t need people to start turning your way. It’s revenge but it’s not part of your plan to publicly humiliate him. At least for now. So you clear your throat before he can slam his fist on the table.

“I mean it, Cheol,” you sigh and blink up at him, the picture of innocence, “Whatever do you think I’ve done?”

He sets his jaw, his fists clench and unclench. There’s a fire in his eyes that you know too well. That same fire once was the beginning of your undoing.

“Are you kidding me right now?” he looks like he’s about to hit you but you know he wouldn’t. 

“No, I really have no idea what you’re talking about,” you pout your lips only slightly. He sighs and runs a hand through his hair. His eyes scan the cafe but you’re sitting in a pretty secluded corner - again, a mercy he doesn’t deserve. He leans closer, gritting his teeth. His muscles bulge with the way his body gets tense. And suddenly despite everything, you find yourself drawn to him. Desiring him.

“My dick is shrinking,” he says, point-blank and without beating around the bush. You almost spit out your drink. He narrows his eyes at you.

“So I guess it’s working,” you snicker and the look in his eyes is priceless.

“You little-” 

He never gets to call you whatever he was about to call you, silenced by a curious look from a guy sitting a few tables over. There’s something very satisfying about watching Cheol withdraw back into his seat with fury still ablaze in his gaze.

“How and why?” he growls.

“Art of manifestation,” you shrug and chuckle at the confusion written all over his face, “I know, right? I guess not all of it is a scam.”

“As to why, do I really need to explain?” you quirk a brow at him. He just gives you a very straightforward nod. You roll your eyes. “You’re impossible, Cheol. You’re so annoying, walking around like you own the world. Like everyone needs to bend to you will just because you have a massive dick - oh wait, had a massive dick.”

“What?” he looks ready to pounce at you, and not in the way he usually does, “That’s it?”

“What do you mean that’s it?” you huff incredulously, “Have you ever heard yourself talking? Cheol, you’re lucky nobody’s fucking done this before.”

“You’re so petty!” he spits and buries his face in his hands.

“And you’re so infuriating. Sorry but you need to be humbled, I’m basically doing this for you,” you take another long sip of your drink and feel yourself relax. What’s he gonna do? Only you can help solve his little problem. And he looks sort of adorable being helpless like this.

“What can I do?” he finally whispers. You’d be lying if you said it doesn’t hurt just a little bit that he never spoke this softly to you before, not even in the early hours of the morning when you were both sweaty and breathing heavily after your nightly escapades. No, instead he’d be boasting about how good he made you feel. He deserves this lesson.

“Be a good person. Be nice, be kind, the usual stuff,” you look away but you feel his eyes burning holes through you anyway.

“Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I am nice, just not to you?” he bites back.

“Careful,” you smirk through the hint of hurt, “As you said, I’m very petty and you wouldn’t want your situation to get worse.”

You get into a silent staring contest that you end up winning. But still, somehow, despite it all, you feel like all you did today was prove his point.

You end up getting asked out on a date, as if something inside of Seungcheol broke and he accepted his fate. Not what you expected but sure, why not if he’s on his best behavior. Let’s see where this goes.

[lorasdolly]

Ran x sevika x reader

Ran is just a good boy and listens to your every word, and Sevika is a bit more dominant. But you and Ran were having fun and sevika comes home and just i don’t know watches and then joins in. It’s totally all love no matter who the other is with

𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐁𝐈𝐓

────୨ৎ────

𝗿𝗮𝗻 𝘅 𝘀𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗸𝗮 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

a-n; ran is a he/him lesbian because i said so, let's go on.

Ran and you got home earlier than Sevika, having a considerable less amount of work than her. You were sitting on Ran's lap, his hands on your waist, rubbing the supple skin gently. The couch was scattered with pillows and blankets similar to the black lipstick kiss marks on your neck.

Ran paid attention to how your eyelashes fluttered, a direct result from the joint in your hand. His eyes were heavily lidded, thoughts running at a hundred miles per hour. She listened to how you rambled, slurring your words. "I miss Sevika," You drawled out the syllables, a small pout on your lips.

Ran nodded, his eyes shutting slowly. You huffed, slightly bouncing on his lap to awaken him. "Stop falling asleep—" You complained, hands tugging gently at his hair. Ran chuckled, holding your closer, "Yeah, Sevika's coming home soon, baby." Your eyes lit up at his words.

"Seriously? Then we really have to stay awake.." You stated, huffing and pressing your chest against his. The only sound for a moment was the ticking of a clock and the raindrops outside the apartment till the front door creaked open. You sat up like an excited puppy, your red eyes darting to the hallway.

You scrambled off of Ran's lap, "Roll another joint for Sevika, she's gonna be stressed," You rushed out your words till scurrying down the hallway and towards the front door. Ran got to doing what you asked of him nearly immediately, hands fidgeting with rolling paper.

You met Sevika at the door, jumping onto her for an embrace as her arms quickly snaked around your waist to hoist you up. You giggled, obviously high enough to see the moon. "Been waiting for you allllll day." You said with a petulant grin.

"Sure you have, has Ran been good with you?" Sevika asked, knowing the answer. Her fingertips twisted a strand of your hair while staring into your puffy eyes. You nod thoughtlessly, hands coming to tug at Sevika's coat. You hung it up on the coat rack, "Ran always so sweet to me," You say, a small smile on your lips.

Sevika coughed, clearing her through to cover the noise of her steps coming behind you and throwing you over her shoulder. She pats your ass swiftly before walking to the living room, your yelping making Ran look up. Sevika begins to stare at him with one of his legs bent towards his chest, fiddling with the joint between his middle finger and thumb.

"Mm, 'Vika?" Ran murmured, taking in the shit-eating grin on her face before body slamming you onto the couch besides Ran. It didn't hurt, the pillows acted as a mat beneath you but you still grunted softly simply to complain. "Sevika!" You whined out loud, tugging on her hair just for her to secure your wrist together.

She lets you fight against her playfully, keeping eye contact with Ran while ignoring you. "Must be annoying to deal with a high princess, huh?" Ran quickly shakes his head, eyes looking at Sevika and you like a deer stuck in headlights. His lipstick was smudged at the corner of his lips and Sevika connected the dots, noticing the lipstick on your neck.

"Oh, guess not, been having fun without me?" Sevika asks rhetorically, kissing Ran's forehead while still keeping you bound. "I haven't gotten a forehead kiss!" You yelled like a spoiled little girl, eyebrows knitted together. Sevika cocked a brow at you, lips centimeters away from your forehead. "Maybe bratty little girls don't deserve forehead kisses, ever thought about that?" She teases.

You press your head forward, making her lips land on your forehead. She lets you go, watching you crawl back into Ran's lap and he quickly secures you against him. "You roll this for me, baby?" Sevika asks towards Ran, putting an arm over his shoulder. He nods, "Her idea," he spoke in reference to you.

"Yeah? Was the princess thinking about me?" She places a large hand on your head, ruffling your hair, making your eyes squint and lips go upturned. "Yeah, yeah! Was thinking about you, 'Vika!" You exclaimed, ass slightly bouncing on Ran to grab Sevika's attention. "Fuck, c'mere."

You giggle, rapidly moving to Sevika's lap. Ran seemed slightly excluded, vision narrowed as he watched you and Sevika be affectionate. He didn't want to interfere, you two hardly got along because of how bratty you could be towards her. He knew how much it meant to you, but he wanted to join in. (:c)

Your head lifted from Sevika's chest, eyebrows furrowing at the sight of Ran. You bring him and the lit joint towards you, "Shotgun?" You whispered and he nearly instantly agreed. His lips circled and attached to the joint, inhaling it and then pressing his lips against yours, more lipstick smudging onto you.

He blew the smoke right into your mouth, letting the smoke leave by your nostrils as you kept kissing. His hand cradled your face, fingertips at your nape. "Gonna leave me out now?" Sevika taunted with a faux frown.

You shook your head, pulling away from Ran and handing the joint to Sevika. She groaned as she took a drag from it, head thrown back. "Fuck, been so damned stressed with work, gonna kill Silco." You whined, squirming on her lap. "What's wrong, princess?" She said with one brow lifted.

"We could help with the.. easy things!" You exclaimed, averting your gaze back and fourth to Ran and Sevika. Ran nodded, his head rested on Sevika's shoulder. "Yeah? Good," She whispered, holding both of you closer.

should i make a longer version of this

[izumkay]

~Horny morning with your Husband~

—SATORU GOJO

Warning!- MDNI. Contains smut.

The first thing you feel is warmth.

A deep, slow kind of warmth that seeps into your bones, wraps around your limbs, and makes you sink further into the sheets. The early morning sun filters through the curtains, casting long shadows across the room, turning everything into a hazy golden dream.

But none of that matters.

Because the second thing you feel is him.

The weight of his body behind you—broad chest pressed against your back, long legs tangled with yours, an arm draped lazily over your waist.

And then, the third thing.

His cock—hot, heavy, and hard—nestled right between your thighs.

You inhale sharply, stirring just a little, but Gojo doesn’t let you move far.

A low, gravelly hum rumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing against your bare skin, still warm from sleep. His fingers tighten their hold on your waist, pulling you closer, pressing his hips flush against you.

"Mmm… morning, sweetheart," he murmurs, voice thick with sleep and something else—something slow, lazy, and hungry.

You shudder at the feeling of him, at the warmth of his breath, the deep timbre of his voice still laced with drowsiness.

And then he moves.

Just a little. Just enough for you to feel the hard, throbbing length of him drag against your slick folds.

A sharp gasp catches in your throat.

Gojo notices. Of course, he notices.

A slow, lazy smirk tugs at his lips as he presses another kiss to your neck, then another, his mouth trailing lower, teeth grazing the sensitive spot right beneath your ear.

"You feel that?" he whispers, his voice dropping into something dark and teasing. "Feel how hard you make me?"

You whimper, legs instinctively parting just a little, and he groans, rolling his hips again, letting the head of his cock nudge right against your entrance.

"Fuck," he exhales, his grip on your waist tightening, fingers sinking into the softness of your skin. "You're already so wet, baby. You want me that bad first thing in the morning?"

His words make heat coil in your stomach, make your breath hitch, make you arch your back just a little, pressing yourself against him.

That’s all it takes for him to lose just a bit of that lazy control.

His free hand slides down your stomach, fingers ghosting over your lower belly before dipping between your thighs.

The second he feels your slickness, he lets out a low, wrecked groan.

"Shit," he murmurs, voice strained, "so fucking warm—so ready for me."

You shift, moving to turn around and face him, but he doesn’t let you.

Instead, he keeps you on your side, pressed against him, as he nudges your legs further apart with his knee, lining himself up.

His lips find your ear again, his breath hot, teasing, full of promise.

"Let me in, sweetheart," he whispers. "Wanna feel you—wanna ruin you first thing in the morning."

And then—he pushes in.

Slow. Deep. Stretching you open inch by inch.

A choked gasp leaves your lips as he sinks all the way to the hilt, filling you so completely you can do nothing but arch against him, thighs trembling, breath stuttering.

Gojo groans, his forehead pressing against your shoulder, his body shuddering against yours.

"Fuck," he breathes, voice wrecked, "you feel so fucking tight—so perfect around me, baby."

For a moment, he just stays there, buried deep inside you, feeling the way your walls pulse around him, adjusting to the stretch.

Then, he pulls out—slow, teasing, dragging every inch of himself against your sensitive walls—before thrusting back in, deep, deliberate, slow enough to make you whimper.

"There you go," he murmurs, his free hand sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your hardened nipple. "Taking me so well, sweetheart."

You whimper, one hand reaching back to grip his hip, needing something to ground yourself.

His rhythm is slow but deep—each thrust pushing him so far inside you, it leaves you gasping, trembling, barely able to think.

Gojo groans at the way you squirm against him, his lips trailing messy, sloppy kisses down your shoulder, your back, your spine.

"So fucking pretty," he whispers against your skin, "so perfect for me."

And then—his hand moves lower.

Fingers finding your clit, rubbing slow, lazy circles that make you cry out.

He chuckles, breathless.

"That’s it, baby," he murmurs, "let me hear you. Wanna hear how good I make you feel."

His thrusts get deeper, sharper, his fingers pressing harder against your clit.

Your body is on fire, your breath ragged, your nails digging into his wrist.

"Satoru—" you gasp.

His grip on you tightens.

"That’s it, sweetheart," he groans, "say my name—let me feel you come around me."

You fall apart with a cry, your body tensing, walls clenching down around his cock, pleasure crashing over you in waves.

Gojo curses, his rhythm faltering, his breath turning ragged.

And then—he’s right behind you.

With a deep, wrecked groan, he thrusts one last time, burying himself as deep as he can before spilling inside you, filling you up with warmth.

His body trembles against yours, his lips pressing soft, lingering kisses to your shoulder, your neck, your temple.

For a while, neither of you move.

Just the sound of your breaths mingling, his arms wrapped around you, bodies tangled in warmth.

And then, after a moment—he chuckles, lazy and sated.

"Shit," he breathes, "what a way to start the morning."

You let out a breathless laugh, still catching your breath.

"Idiot," you murmur.

He grins, pressing a kiss to your temple.

"You love me."

And yeah—you really, really do.

[thegreatgatslin]

UNDER THE TABLE - k. yukimiya x reader (18+)

tw: afab reader, public sex, fingering, cum eating (at the end) karasu and otoya cameo because i said so, it’s okay though they don’t find out, kenyu is a little shit, also ooc?? || wc: 1k-ish || divider creds @cafekitsune

you’ve always known that your boyfriend kenyu yukimiya isn’t always the good boy he seems to be.

sure, in front of the camera’s he’s bastard münchen’s golden boy - he hasn’t been carded on the pitch a single time to date, mind you - and he’s a literal model, so he kind of has to put on his ‘good-boy’ charm for the cameras; it’s his job. and he’s always a perfect gentleman to you.

but there are also times when he lets a different side of himself show. gossiping about his teammates (which you secretly kind of enjoy listening to), and sneaking out after his curfews to see you. sometimes he even goes so far as to lean down, lips brushing your ear, and whisper something truly scandalous, making you blush furiously.

this, though? this takes the cake.

you squirm in your seat, glaring at kenyu, who just offers you a picture-perfect smile. how does he still have his poker face on when he knows damn well what he’s doing to you?

when he knows that under your skirt, under your panties -

“hey.” karasu waves his hand in front of your face, a look of concern on his own. “ya holding up alright? yer a little… off t’day.”

“stomachache,” you grit out. otoya shoots you what might be a sympathetic look.

“had some dodgy seafood last night,” kenyu chimes in, and you clench your jaw at the sound of his voice. “she hasn’t been feeling well since.”

“go to the bathroom if ya need,” karasu advises gently. “we can order for ya.”

“that’s very - kind of you!” the last few words come out an octave higher as the vibrator buzzes against your clit, causing you to clench around nothing. you sit up ramrod straight, pressing your thighs together to quell the sensation, but it’s no use. how can you act like everything’s normal when you’re on the verge of climaxing?

kenyu acts like he’s none the wiser about what’s happening, and to your absolute horror, he opens the app controlling your vibe and turns the fucking intensity down, keeping the vibe on, then sets his phone face down on the table beside him.

“you sure?” he says, feigning concern as he places a large palm on your thigh, thumb brushing the soft skin there. “i can bring you, if you need -”

and you want to scream at him, or slap him or something, because to karasu and otoya, kenyu just seems like a loving boyfriend. but to you? oh, he’s your torturer. putting his hand on your thigh like that, so tantalisingly close to where your slick is pooling in your panties.

and it’s as if he can read your mind, because he’s sliding his palm up your thigh and under your skirt (you shiver at the feeling, melting into his touch), hooking his thumb under the waistband of your underwear, pushing the vibrator up against your clit, increasing the pressure in the process.

you inhale sharply, thighs inadvertently squeezing around his wrist as you scrabble at the tablecloth, pulling it over your lower half to make sure no one else in the restaurant sees.

“good girl,” he murmurs, and you think you might just die.

“will you relax a little for me, darling?” his fingers are already at the entrance of your soaked hole, collecting the slick there. and you nod, whining quietly, feeling him push in slowly. you bite your inner lip when he finds your g-spot within seconds, strumming your walls expertly with his deft fingers.

you glance over at karasu and otoya, breathing heavily for fear of being noticed, but they seem to be preoccupied with something on the latter’s phone.

“fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck,” you whimper, grabbing onto his forearm, and you’re sure you must look absolutely pathetic right now, looking up at him with big doe eyes, unable to say anything but his name. “kenyu- i -”

but the sly bastard is starting a conversation with his friends now, chatting and laughing and turning up the speed on your vibe as his fingers piston in and out of your leaking cunt, all with that winning smile on his face.

“and we saw it happen right in front of our eyes, and i told her, isn’t that going overboard just a little?” kenyu laughs now, his pace only quickening as you squeeze around his long fingers, his fingers that are currently your undoing. “i mean, it’s kind of unbecoming of young people nowadays to show such affection in public, right? he was practically devouring her face, wasn’t he?” he looks towards you, expectant of a response. “wasn’t he?”

yeah, as if you aren’t currently doing much worse in a public place, where we could be caught so easily -

“yeah, he was,” you breathe. “just - really goin’ to town on her, y’know.” karasu snorts.

“alright, alright, we know you two virgins would never do anything of the sort,” otoya deadpans, eliciting a snicker from karasu. “seriously, guys, you just gotta fuck already.”

oh, otoya, if only you knew… 

kenyu shakes his head in mock reproach, smiling softly as he bullies his fingers into your syrupy cunt. “don’t say such crude things in front of a lady, otoya,” he chides.

between the delicious stimulation from the vibrator, the press of his fingers against your spongy spot, and the knowledge that you might get caught at any moment - it’s all pushing you to the edge. too hard, too fast.

“ken,” you gasp, eyes pleading - though you don’t know what you’re pleading for, exactly. “i think i’m - m’gonna -”

and it’s at this point he leans down to whisper into your ear -

“cum for me, my good girl.”

and you do.

it’s like sparks dancing before your eyes as you gush around him, maybe better than most of the orgasms he’s previously given you, to your chagrin.

he pulls his fingers out of you slowly, and you know that under the tablecloth he’s spreading them, feeling your essence like sticky webs between them. and as sit there, catching your breath, and wonder how he’s going to explain the sticky mess on his fingers to his friends -

the bastard knocks his fork off the table with his elbow, and as he bends down to pick it up - and licks his fingers clean of your cum, not breaking eye contact with you.

you gulp hard, feeling heat pool in your stomach at the undeniably lewd sight. kenyu simply smiles serenely at you, straightening up with his fork in hand.

“right, shall we order?”

a/n: okay so what the fu-

© thegreatgatslin || ✦ M.LIST ✦

[zomb-core]

vampire!bakugou who bears his teeth and sinks them into your flesh after sneaking over to your dorm after hours.

His sharp fangs pierce through your skin, your warm blood quickly pooling into his mouth. A whimper leaves you, not from pain however, it rarely hurts for more than a second if you relax.

A large hand cups the base of your neck and effortlessly tilts your head back. You allow your eyes to fall shut and focus on the feeling of him draining you.

He was always sure to stop before taking too much not wanting to do serious damage, or worse, kill you. His lips separated from your skin, but he didn't pull back yet. Your breath hitched as his tongue ran over the fresh wound, effectively cleaning off the remaining blood.

"You know, you're not as rough as everyone thinks you are."

Now, he's face to face with you. You examine him, his pupils are dilated from feeding off of you and there's leftover blood trickling down his chin. He laughs, well, more so chuckles, it's hard to tell the difference with how quiet you are both being.

"Yeah, whatever."

part two maybe?

[multi-fandom-imagine]

To go with the latest Fred fic you wrote - them finding out they’re having triplets?

A/n: Fred deserved this life 👏

Fred Weasley had never known a love so consuming until he became a father. Hell he never thought he would even get a chance of this life after the Battle of Hogwarts.

But.

Standing over the cribs, watching his three tiny miracles sleep soundly, he still couldn’t believe it.

Three.

Three beautiful, perfect, red-haired babies.

His triplets.

His and your triplets.

Fred exhaled softly, his chest tightening with overwhelming love and awe. Their little faces were peaceful, their tiny hands occasionally twitching in sleep, their chests rising and falling in the most delicate rhythm.

As he reached down, gently brushing his knuckle over one of their soft little cheeks, a flood of memories came rushing back.

The day they found out had been—well��chaotic.

Fred had walked into St. Mungo’s with you, excited but nervous, absolutely ready to hear about his future child. His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He watched as you sat down on the examination chair, watched as she applied jelly to your belly.

One child.

That’s what he’d been expecting. One. Singular. A baby.

Then, the Healer had smiled far too brightly as they examined the scan.

“Congratulations, you two! You’re having—”

A Pause.

Fred had felt his stomach drop at the pause. Why was there a pause? His smile faltering on his lips as he squeezed your hand.

The Healer had turned to you both, beaming.

“Triplets!”

Then Silence.

Fred’s brain short-circuited. A strangled sound escaping his lips.

You, who had been clutching his hand, froze completely.

Then....

“Sorry—what?” Fred had asked, blinking rapidly.

“Triplets!” the Healer repeated cheerfully, pointing at the image. “See? Three little heartbeats, all strong and healthy!” Her fingers pointing to each little blob on the screen.

Fred had made another strangled noise, his grip tightening on your hand. He could feel his knees almost buckle out from under him.

You, on the other hand, had just stared at the screen, your eyes comically wide.

“Fred,” you had whispered, your voice shockingly calm.

“Yes, love?”

“We are having three babies.”

Fred had nodded dumbly a little "hmmh" leaving his lips.

You had continued staring.

Then, suddenly, had burst into tears.

Fred had panicked instantly.

“Oh, bloody hell! love—are you okay?”

You had just nodded between sobs, gripping his hand so tightly his fingers had turned white.

“There’s three of them, Fred!” You had wailed, shaking slightly.

Fred had absolutely no idea if you were crying because you were happy, overwhelmed, or just spiraling into hormonal shock.

So naturally, he had done what any loving, supportive husband would do.

He had fainted.

Right there.

In the bloody Healer’s office.

Fred smirked to himself, watching the babies twitch in their sleep.

When he had woken up, flat on the Healer’s floor, you had been hovering over him, still crying but also laughing hysterically.

“You—you fainted?” she had choked out between sniffles.

Fred had blinked up at you, still woozy. “You cried first!”

You had snorted, wiping your eyes. “I was emotional!”

Fred had groaned, covering his face. “We are so doomed.”

And yet—here they were.

Surviving.

Thriving.

And most important of all.

Raising their three little miracles together.

Fred smiled softly, pressing a gentle kiss to the forehead of his daughter, then his two sons.

He turned, glancing at you, who was curled up on the nearby chair, dozing lightly.

His heart swelled.

Reaching over, he brushed a stray curl from your face, his thumb tracing your cheek lovingly.

Then, looking back at their sleeping babies, he whispered, so softly it was barely audible—

“Best surprise of my life.”