#* tiny drips of paint. || drabbles.

[petalseas]

"To stare at you, is staring at the void that my own actions have created." Hands twitch, pulling out bow from behind, with an arrow endoring fragile fingers.

Platinum resents those who clothed themselves in armor, for they, shall be nothing but prime targets for such a nonsense memory. ; People are easily replaceable, including herself too. No one will mourn their loss.

"Focus. You're getting distracted!"

[allurilove]

Yandere clown x you?

I hate clowns omhogmgkgmgkgk i’m like scared of them 😭😭

Yandere Clown x you

Rated 18 + — mature short content !

You’re at a carnival where you meet the hottest clown you have seen. A short drabble, and fucking in front of the funhouse mirror! Fem reader.

The only clown you have ever seen is the stereotypical white face, dramatic makeup, suspenders, and a huge red ball for a nose. They weren’t really your thing, and you were used to them waddling around with those big shoes, and honking their horns at you.

Since when did they have any sex appeal?

The moment they decided to take off their shirts, you understood why people were fawning over them. You came here to be scared—not wound up and aroused. He had fake blood splattered on their chest, their pants low enough that you see their v-line, and you see a tattoo that presumably continues even lower down his body. His face is painted white, red lipstick painted messily on his lips, and dark eyeliner making their eyes pop out. He carries a toy machete in one hand that looks unreasonably sharp.

He carried a small ice-cream cone in his other hand, and he noticed you eyeing it up and down. It was getting late, and all the little food stands were shutting down, and that treat in his hand was the only food you have seen in a while. You were quite hungry—borderline famished after screaming in haunted houses. He approached you, your mouth automatically just dropped open for him to feed you. The creamy vanilla melts around your tongue, and you can’t help but to lock eyes with him as you ate the ice cream. His lips part, his eyes becoming lidded as you were becoming a bit more risqué. It drips down to your chest, you pull back to see it follow the curve of your breast. He raised his brow, his tongue out as he bends down to lick it.

The moment his tongue was on your body— you became putty in his hands. He pulled you into the wonky mirrors exhibit, it’s a tiny tent with a bunch of mirrors that makes you look weird— and you watch as he bends you over, your reflection of your face is of a swirl. He pulled up your costume, his hand touching your ass before giving it a harsh slap. He pulled down your panties, just enough for him to align the head of his cock to your slit.

“Spread your legs a bit more for me…” He mumbled, his knee already pushing them more apart, and he pressed your face into the mirror. The clown slowly slid himself inside you, a slight hiss escaping his lips as you instinctively tensed around his cock. “Oh god…” He groaned, moving in and out of you.

He watched in marvel as you threw your hips back to meet his thrusts, a smirk on his face, “That’s right, fuck yourself on this dick. Show me how much you want it.”

“You feel amazing…” The clown wrapped your hair around his hand, he made you arch your back, and his cock hits into you so deliciously. Your eyes roll back, your thighs shaking and you try to avoid looking at yourself in the mirror. You look weird—obviously—it made your body squiggly. But he thought you looked good— sexy even.

He has a scary wide smile, his other hand repeatedly smacking your ass as his thrusts become harsher. “You wanna cum? Tell me you wanna cum then.”

[yandere-wishes]

༄｡° Ice on Ice ༄｡°

𐙚 Yandere!Capitano Drabble

𐙚 Warnings: Stockholm syndrome, gore, manipulation

𝄞 Song: Kill V. Maim by Grimes

⋆˙❅ He's molded you into his perfect darling. His perfect weapon ❅⋆˙

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚‧͙̩̩͙

It's always snowing in Snezhnaya .

Even in the dead of summer.

Capintano glides across the castle like a shadow. Shying away from the moonlight gleaming through the towering windows.

Ice slithers up his arm, forging into the hilt of his glacial sword.

He can smell your bloodlust in the air, good, you've already commenced the integration.

The lower levels of Zapolyarny castle speak only of terrors.

It's where the faithless come to die.

Traitors to Her Majesty.

It was where he'd kept you upon your initiation, where he burned you down and fabricated you anew.

His pretty little deadly thing.

So eager to please.

So loyal

The salty tang of blood permeating the air has his heart racing, furious war drum hammering in his chest. He follows the embers of your rage, standing by the threshold watching as you dig your knife deeper into the traitor's shoulder. Capitano basks in your raw fury. Your anger sweet on his tongue.

"Darling"

His voice is low, a whisper among the screams. Snowflake on ice and yet you still jump to attention. Run up to him with a sweet smile that doesn't quite suit the crimson specks adorning your cheeks.

His eyes glide across your taut body, spine straight, fingers up in salute. Your pyro delusion glowing gently at your waist. Ready to engrave his commands upon your bones.

"Master, the prisoner has confessed to carrying out treason against the crown. But he's yet to disclose the whereabouts of his fellow rebels."

"He will."

Capitano hands you his coat, relishing the delicate way you clench the heavy thing. Cradling it in your chest as if it's more precious than all the constatations above Tyvat. He pulls his helmet up, ever so slightly, enough to press his frigid lips against your cheek and lick the specks of blood. You freeze, fingers grasping the fuzzy pelt.

"Come watch, my darling"

He stalks towards the bloodied man, twirling his sword, letting the tiny ice splinters impale the traitor at random. The man cries, voice hoarse and weak. The slim glaciers replacing blood with frost.

You trail after him, lovesick and devotion in every step, his coat hanging from your shoulders.

Heavy burden upon frail shoulders, such a perplexing thing you are...

Capitano can't help but smile in satisfaction. He's molded you into perfection, sculpted you from the purest ice. He studies your work rigorously. Pain painted across the vile canvas. The traitor's right eye is missing, the socket scorched, torrid flesh pealing from his arms. His shirt ripped, rude stab wounds still fresh, still dripping ruby.

He's trained you well.

Trained you to make nation topple and archons bow. To bend the stars and flames with your fealty.

Maim and kill.

Because this world is too cruel for righteous little boys and naive little girls.

Kill and maim or else it will be done to you.

You pull the informer's hair back as Capitano lands a metal-clad punch to his face, blood sprays unceremoniously, spoiling Capintao's black-silver armor, followed by the familiar clatter of a tooth hitting the thinly iced floor.

Capintano steps back, braces himself for a moment then thrusts his sword into the rebel's thigh. Marring the sturdy hoar a rotten red. Frost blisters skin ripping the soft tissue underneath.

Ice chips bone

Meat falls to the cold ground.

The man screams, crying out locations and names in jetted tongue. His eyes slowly grow darker.

The blood continues to pool.

You clap your hands cheerfully. Letting the man's head fall forward "Well done master."

For a fleeting second, as you skip towards your master, you catch the traitor's picture in the odd light. You gulp, the creature staring back wears your face, your body, your skin. You see yourself in the dead stranger. Stubborn face and blank eyes. You blink and it's gone, a trick of the dark, one you're too eager to forget. Those days have passed, left to decay in snow-covered tombs. You are someone else now, more importantly, you are Capitano's lover, his most devoted soldier. No longer a gullible thing chasing after empty ideals.

Capitano towers over you. A stone pillar etched of ivory paragons. His iron fingers wrap around your smaller wrist as he pulls you forward. Your fingers lace through his ebony main, while your other hand pulls up the helmet, desperate for his kiss. Biting his lips and letting the blood from his armor stain your uniform. He pushes pain and loyalty down your throat with metallic spiced kisses. Replaces the pearls of your spine with molten lava and brimstone. His touches are frostbite running rampant across your body. Peeling away skin and inscribing mortality and ethereal strength into the soft tissue of your organs. Leaving your lungs corked with icy doctrines.

He has sculpted his style of blade work into your blood. Your veins pump explosions through your body.

Capitano's lips trace the expansion of your neck, savoring your essence between harsh kisses and harsher lovebites. You feel like a sword in his hands, meticulously forged with the finest steel. He has killed many apostates with you. Used you to serve the Tsaritsa without fail

Weapon of war, built from the corpse of a little lost girl.

The frenzy in your eyes, the cosmic thumb of your heart, the way your fingers claw, and the silver of skin of his neck.

Deadly deadly deadly.

He plays the role of the virtuous knight.

Only he's come to learn that many mistake virtue for pacifism.

No.

Love and loyalty are delicate threads entwined with massacre and pain.

You must kill to protect loyalty.

You must kill to protect love.

And how better to express both than in love letters penned with fresh scarlet and decay?

"Get rid of the body, we have much work to do." He raises his sword up to the thin ray of moonlight. For a second your reflection flashes across his icy sword, broken and damaged and perfect in every way. He gives you a final kiss on your templet. Before retrieving his coat and turning away. Disappearing in the dark.

You sigh, breath observable in the chill. Your fingers ignite, warmer and warmer. Preparing for another cremation.

Capitano smiles, ridged, grotesque. As a putrid sickly saccharine scent wafts through the castle's dungeon.

He's raised the perfect lover.

Devoted to a fault and stronger than any weapon.

He's looking forward to unleashing you upon the rebel's nest.

Looking forward to the dance of savage carnage.

It's summertime in Snezhnaya 

Although you couldn't tell from the snowy blizzard outside...

When is Varka coming out? I want to be caged between the two of them so badly 😭😭

Also, guys, what if Capintano is Rustam or Arundolyn?? 🤔 I feel like I'm onto something

°🪼° @choueries @animelover6000 @viannasthings

[vaaaaaiolet]

You accidentally throw a monkey wrench into supermodel Leon's Calvin Klein photoshoot, but you can't sweet-talk your way out of this one. Kennedy's got your tongue and your panties in a bunch.

Better hope you've got a fix up your sleeve.

f / m, slight nsfw, you just thirst over leon + you're REALLY awkward, fluff + romance, stupid one-liner attempts at humor + hunnigan mention!! I GIVE MYSELF THE ICK.

word count: 913 // read on ao3

a/n: @chesue00 made this GODLY ART. and i RAN INTO PEOPLE in PUBLIC looking at it because it got me so dizzy. i don't know what to DO WITH MYSELF 😭

find more drabbles in my collection: sketches for my sweetheart the drunk!

You’d passed all your English classes in college, but right now? It’d be a hell of a lot more useful to have taken a few in sign language.

“What’s wrong with her?” 

The camera crew’s never been able to perfect the art of the whisper. 

“Did she lose her voice or something?”

You fumble with the reflectors for the millionth time, bright material projecting your flushed face to high heaven on all three of the cameras’ viewfinders. 

There’s a really unfunny joke that starts like this: a photography intern walks into a bar.

Said bar happens to be supermodel Leon S. Kennedy’s back because you weren’t watching where you were going on the biggest day of your career, a Kennedy x Klein collab shoot starring the man you’d only been crushing on for, what, ever since you picked up your first fashion magazine? You’d left a sizeable smear of makeup on the pristine white of his T-shirt as a parting gift, and after that, you’d lost your ability to form words in shame. Mortifying, paralyzing shame.

Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

And as if in agreement, Leon’s agent bristles on the break couch behind you. 

He’s still in that stained shirt, by the way. Sipping thoughtfully from a bottle of water while his agent sounds off beside him, but the only thing on your mind is what you’d give to be on his drink’s business end. Condensation drips onto the coffee table when Leon sets it down, drop by tantalizing drop sliding down his fingers, ice melting in his palm that’s just big enough to grab a plush handful of your- 

His agent tears through your daydream, madder than a wet hen. ”There’s no time to order an exact replacement!”

“It’s just a shirt,” Leon chuckles, and you hear rolling thunder on the horizon. You’ve got it bad.

“It very clearly states in the Kennedy x Klein contract that we need a picture of you in a white T-shirt.”

“A tiny bit of lip gloss-” 

“An obvious stain!” the spectacled woman squawks. 

“Stain, whatever – just stop freaking that poor girl out, yeah?” 

Your ears perk up rabbit-style.

“Look at her, Ingrid,” Leon continues, and every cell of your body lights on fire because he has to be training his gunmetal eyes on right on you. “Poor thing hasn’t said a word since you started going off about that tiny mark. Turn around, sweetheart, just a moment.”

Who put your feet on a turntable? 

“See? Eyes bigger than the goddamn moon.”

And you just might faint, too. But you’ve got to fix this before you do. 

“Uhm, we…we could…” he nods when you stutter, patient as a saint, he’d talk you through it for sure, “take…the shirt…off?” 

A tilt of his handsome head. “Come again?”

You need to put your money where your mouth is. Even if the latter’s on strike right now. Pointing your chin back towards the set, you jerk your head for him to follow. Leon’s agent pinches the bridge of her nose, mumbling something about leaps of faith from chandeliers and not again, but the man in the stained shirt couldn’t seem to care less. His eyes gleam.

“Hands-on, then.” Leon cracks a grin, rising to his feet. “I’m all yours.” 

Leon is desire painted monochrome.

You nearly throw yourself over the table at the back of the shoot the minute Leon pops up on your monitor. The printer spits out picture after picture that couldn’t be safe for work in your wildest dreams, but here you are, getting paid to take softcore of Calvin Klein’s newest poster boy, and your jaw is about to make friends with the floor.  

You didn’t know eyes could talk before Leon Kennedy. 

In one shot, he’s gazing at you from the glossed page, bedroom blues sizing you up. He’s daring you. Drag your eyes down the page. Go on.

And oh, if the the journey doesn’t reveal the ridged muscles lining Leon’s stomach as he reaches to shuck the shirt off his shoulders. The stain is a forgotten memory replaced by a new one burned into your brain for the rest of eternity, and you’re not the talking about the cologne. You’re staring at the patterned Calvin Klein waistband of his boxers. Slung dangerously low over his hips, begging to be relieved of their duty, so close you could pull them off with your teeth. 

“Any closer and you’re gonna lick the page, doll.” 

And mess up his pretty face? You wouldn’t dream of it.

Leon laughs when you go ramrod straight. “Seriously. You did amazing with that shirt-pulling save,” he says. “I know it’s a little intimidating to work with Ingrid and my team, but you handled it like a champ.” 

He tugs the photo out from under your fingers, uncapping a nearby pen to scribble something onto its backside. His tongue pokes out when he writes. He’s the cutest Adonis you’ve ever seen when he hands it back. “I knew you could,” he adds.

And then all too soon, just as your own tongue regains feeling, Leon leaves amidst the flurry of post-production. Leaves is the polite way to put it; his agent practically hauls him out by the collar by the time you muster up the courage to wave goodbye. 

Really? After everything’s all done? 

Well, almost. You flip the photo to read his note.

Pretty eyes, pretty mouth too. Put that second one to use next time? :)

They do say practice makes perfect.

click for my full drabble collection, and find more of my work here!

comments and reblogs are very much appreciated <3

[villainbait]

Corvid Coeducation

Pairing: Sylus x MC (implied) Rating: G Tags: drabble, crack, fluff, humor, mc as a teacher, third person, 3rd person, painting, playful fighting Summary: MC teaches Mephisto how to paint. Loosely inspired by this image (I know it's a raven in the photo not a crow but it gave me inspo all the same♥). Word Count: ~500

“What are you doing?”

The girl doesn’t look up from the crow she’s currently giving careful instructions to. A small easel meant for a toddler or a small child was set up in Sylus’s bedroom, and a large old towel lay underneath it so paint didn’t stain the floor. 

“I'm teaching Mephisto how to paint.” 

Sylus sounds amused. “Do you know how to paint?” 

“I'll have you know I'm good friends with a…“ Maybe she shouldn’t bring up Rafayel here, but was too late and Sylus latches onto her hesitance. 

“With a what, kitten?” A different face came to mind and she was quick to offer Thomas up without hesitating. “...art curator.” she said quickly, busying herself with helping Mephisto dip his paint brush again. “So that’s a no.” Sylus sounded skeptical and his words dripped with disbelief and disappointment. 

She ignores him.

“Yeah! so I know how to paint–kind of.” She grumbles, before directing the unruly crow back to canvas. Sylus allows the little white lie, a slight smirk playing on his lips. She was getting better at this kind of game, clumsy as she still was at it. He should reward her for that. He crouches next to her, far too close, enjoying the way she fidgeted nervously at his proximity. They both watched as the crow attempted to make a masterful stroke, but all that came of it was a splotchy red blotch instead. 

“Remarkable job. Perhaps I should take lessons from Miss, too.” Sylus comments dryly. The girl shoves at him and they get into a tussle, the painting session forgotten while they grapple. She doesn’t play fair and manages to smudge Sylus’s face with a streak of red paint, her expression momentarily triumphant before he grabs her wrist and jerks her close. The tension is palpable in the air, heavy with anticipation. Sylus leans in, his trembling lips hovering above her own, but is startled by the sudden interruption of an angrily squawking Mephisto from behind him.

He pulls back with a wry smile, admiring how disheveled and flushed the girl looked. His voice is a little rough when he speaks and he clears his throat softly. “Mephisto says we are ruining his creative process.” She can only nod and Sylus crosses his legs in front of the tiny easel meant for a child, tucking her into his lap before she can protest. His hand reaches out to take the brush from the crow, who obediently hops over to offer it. 

“You’re putting too much paint on the brush,” Sylus murmured gently, removing some paint with a towel until only a thin layer remained on the tip. “Like this, see?” His breath flutters next to her ear and she struggles to focus on his instruction. “It will help him control the brush better if it’s not so weighed down with paint.”

He angles the brush between Mephisto’s beak and watches as the crow hops back to the canvas, his strokes more dramatically effective this time. For a while, the process repeats and the girl is content to sit in Sylus’s lap, their co-education producing a fine painting in the end.

Sylus holds it out, admiring it with the critically trained eye of a collector. “I’ll hang it in the hall where guests can see it.” 

The girl can’t bring herself to tease him about it, but she swore Sylus oddly looked like a proud papa.

[murdrdocs]

im obsessed with your writing! i was gonna request maybe a small drabble of stepbrother ethan finishing in reader accidentally. IF NOT ITS OK<3

ITS OKAY !! afab!reader

you’re bent over your vanity, shorts and panties pooled at your ankle, boobs pushed up over the scooped neckline of your tiny top. behind you, ethan holds the hem of his tee shirt in his teeth, his pants and boxers pulled down enough to free his cock and force it in your walls.

he hasn’t been fucking you for long, both of you holding so much pent up energy, but you’re both so close. you’ve already reached a hand between your legs to circle your clit, as per ethan’s grunted instructions.

you’re close … getting to that point … almost there … and finally you cum. hard. your eyes closing, your elbow locking against your desk and giving out, forcing you to lay on your forearm. ethan’s not far behind you, his eyes squeezing shut, his head tilting back, forcing his shirt to rise more, giving you a view of his sublime abs.

when he cums, your mind is so hazy and you’re so lost in the moment that you don’t question the way his cock twitches inside of you. you only notice how something isn’t right when the first spurt paints your walls, making you twitch with how unexpected it is.

“ethan, ethan, ethan, ethan.” his name leaves your lips in rapid succession, either as a praise, a curse, or a warning. you aren’t really sure, in the same way that you aren’t sure if you’re actually upset with him for cumming inside.

it feels so fucking good. borderline heavenly. and with this fog in your mind, you can’t think of any possible negatives to the situation. until ethan’s cock stops twitching and he pulls out, leaving you with an emptiness in your cunt, and a daunting feeling in your mind.

“shit,” he says, his wide eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

“yeah. shit.” it’s silent for a few moments, and you take the silence as a chance to stand straight and reorient your clothing as you think of a response, trying to get yourself to be mad. which, you are, just a bit. but the euphoric feeling of ethan’s still-warm cum dripping out of you and into your panties clouds your better judgement.

plus, there’s always plan b.

[theres-a-body-here]

Thanacon's NSFW Imagines: Knights of The Lands Between (Part 1)

Alright scum fuckers. Yall already know ya boi Thanacon got yall with the spicy knight shit. If you like what you see, comment the knight you'd like to see a full fic/drabble for!!

Tree Sentinel:

Imagine being impaled on his cock as he nonchalantly rides his horse around Limgrave. You warm his cock as it stays still inside you

Imagine you begging for him to thrust, but he pays you no mind. Your tiny body clings to his massive frame and you whimper pathetically

Imagine him giving you a bit of reprieve by leading his horse to trot on rocky terrain, every bump and jolt drives his cock in a bit deeper

Imagine him casually riding by some soldiers of Godrick. You try to stifle your moans but he gives you a good thrust, causing your moans to slip out

Imagine him using his massive shield to hide you from their sights. He doesn't mind letting them hear you, but seeing you is just for him to enjoy

Imagine him taking you to a secluded grass field. He hops off his horse with his cock still inside you.

Imagine him laying down on the ground as you ride him. He wants you to be comfortable.

Imagine him finally start to thrust into you

Imagine him making no sound as he thrusts upwards into your heat

Imagine him gripping your hips tightly, guaranteed to bruise in the morning

Imagine his head falling back onto the ground as he increases his speed

Imagine a low growl being your only warning before he cums inside you, painting your insides white

Tanith's Crucible Knight:

Imagine asking Tanith for an alternative reward, an afternoon with her Knight. She accepts since you've been the most exemplary of the Volcano Manor

Imagine him stiffening up when he hears your proposal, and then shiver when he hears Tanith agree

Imagine getting ready and arriving to one of the Manor chambers.

Imagine seeing him on the bed, still in his amor

Imagine him trembling slightly as you approach eagerly

Imagine removing only his codpiece and palming his massive member through his undergarments

Imagine him letting out a low groan as his hand goes up to his faceplate in an attempt to suppress his sounds

Imagine fishing his cock out and stroking it slowly

Imagine his hands fly to his faceplate as he falls back onto the pillows

Imagine him letting out small whimpers as you jerk him off slowly

Imagine him thrust into your hand, a small push for you to go faster

Imagine obliging. He starts to let out laboured breathes with each quick stroke

Imagine him gripping the sheets tightly as he arches his back

Imagine him cumming as he lets out a loud whimper

Imagine him going back to covering his faceplate with his hands, embarrassed that Lady Tanith made him into your reward

Crucible Knight and Misbegotten Warrior:

Imagine being held down by the Knight as the Warrior fucks you roughly. The Misbegotten ruts into you like a mutt in heat

Imagine his cock is bumpy, knotted, and grotesque

Imagine the Knight gently rubbing your wrists as he pins you down, a stark contrast to his partner's treatment

Imagine the misbegotten drooling as he pounds you, his slobber dripping off and falling onto your bare body

Imagine the Misbegotten growling and snarling as it fucks you into the ground, signaling that its close

Imagine the Misbegotten roaring and slamming into you one final time as he cums, his knot locking you two together.

Imagine him pinning your arms down so the knight can pull his cock out

Imagine the knight lightly tapping your lips with his thick cock

Imagine the Knight holding your head still with one hand while using the other to grip the base of his cock as he ruts against your lips

Imagine him leaving trails of precum all over your face as he rubs himself on you

Imagine his grunts and moans as he strokes his cock over your face

Imagine yourself whining and trying to raise your head to get a taste, only for the Knight to raise his cock upwards. He lets out a deep chuckle as he pats your cheek

Imagine him groaning as he cums, painting your face white

[drarrymyheart]

A sweet Drarry Drabble from September.

A New Dawn by DrarryMyHeart

The pillow is smooth against his face, his body melded with the mattress as he blinks slowly into consciousness. The world is a warm blur of creams and whites before pale blonde eyelashes come into soft focus. Supple lips, barely parted where they rest against the pillow. A few strands of white-blonde hair draping over a slender nose. Mine. They aren’t quite touching, yet Harry feels the warmth and weight of the man beside him; comforts in the deep, rhythmic flow of his breathing. A long swath of sunlight creeps up the duvet and over a bare, milky shoulder, the morning light revealing tiny dust particles lazily swirling through the air.

An adoration so intense it prickles at the corners of his eyes sweeps through Harry. The desire to move close, press their bodies together, press his lips to the curve of that sharp jaw and thread fingers through silky strands, is overwhelming. His fingers yearn to trace every curve and angle. But he doesn’t. Not yet. The scene before him is still, like a painting brought to life, and he cannot bring himself to disrupt it. A glint of silver and his focus shifts to pale fingers splayed between them. A devoted passion swells within his heart as he recalls the promises made. A burning pride at the memory of the jubilant celebration. A thrum of desire as he remembers the honeyed words dripping from those lips late into the night.

A disbelief that this gets to be his. Forever.

Giving in, Harry reaches out and brushes aside those errant platinum strands, tracing a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Draco stirs but does not wake. Harry threads his fingers through Draco’s, his own silver band now gleaming in the sunlight streaming over the bedding between them. He shifts their joined hands to press his lips to the tiny freckle in the dip between thumb and forefinger and nuzzle over their knuckles, a cool ring pressing into his cheek. Mine. A tear slides down Harry’s cheek to nestle in the crook of his smile.

A tight press against his palm. A low hum and the hint of a smile before grey eyes meet his own.

Good morning, my love; my heart.

[yanderegrizzsworld]

Can you do a romantic yandere neo metal sonic with a immortal reader please

Yandere Neo Metal Sonic: We'll be Gods (Romantic Drabble)

TW/CW: Manipulation & implied anxiety

A.N: A treat for a happy one year anniversary

You pace along the decaying wall with clenched hands, the scent of metal hitting your nose among the rest of the damp moss & earthy scenery around you. You halt momentarily as your eyelids felt heavy & you muscles began to feel sore, the buzzing & scuttling from outside catches your attention briefly before resuming your steps once more. Scraps of metal & wire rest among the floor, scattered about as if no one bothered to pick them up, tiny bugs pace about absent-mindedly before you give the mess of robot parts a gentle kick, you watch as the insects dispel with no sense of where to go.

Upon looking ahead of you, a metal door of which its paint has since become jaded & lost its color is visibly seen. Random vines wrap themselves around the door as flower petals litter among the ground infront of the entrance as the roots of the petals origin seem to have died long ago seemingly from the lack of sunlight. Scratches & dents become clearer to see as you approach it with cautious steps, faint sounds cam be heard behind the door echoing down the hall, each step switching between booming & close to low & distant.

Lifting your arm above your head, a plangent thud booms within the stark building, making your ears ring painfully before dialing down slowly. Whatever noise that could be heard from the other side had ceased, allowing the sounds of nature outside to be heard. Creaks pierce harshly against your eardrums, a wince escaping your throat as you step back with both hands covering your ears.

Not a source of light could be seen from the crack of the door nor any noise emitted from within, coolness drips down your cheek suddenly, making you swipe the back of your hand against your cheek, the same coolness now felt on your cheek. "Come inside" the abrupt voice from within the room arised a shriek that got caught in your throat, rugged coughing echoed down the hall, bouncing against the walls like a ping ping ball against a paddle.

A radiance of light catches you eye, a metal hand emerges from the darkness within as if tempting you to move in. "Come now" It's tone utters purpose & comes off more as a demand rather than an invitation, the hand stretching out slightly more, expecting you to comply. You take cautious steps towards the door, lifting your arm until you feel the frigid touch of the robotic hand against your palm.

It gently tugs at your hand, wishing for you to enter the unkown. You place your other hand by the door as you slowly enter passed the door, light from outside could be spotted shining in through the holes high on the ceiling & walls, revealing specks of nature & more scraps of metal & wires littering the ground. "You're quite late, you know" Loud steps echo around the room as bright blue emerges from the shadows, it's body lustering when it walked into the holes of light.

"I did?" You slouch a bit, observing the robot treaded towards you calmly as if each step was carefully planned out, you scratch your arm for a moment, "I guess I...didn't notice" You glance away from it every few seconds, though its crimson eyes never look away. It stops right in front of you, the fact it doesn't seem to blink unnerves you to your core, "Your clothes" It raises its hand & grabs a fistful of your shirt, you grab onto the robot's arm with both hands from the sudden action. "When was the last time you've washed it, hm?"

"Oh, I just...I didn't really have time" the bot loosens its grip on your shirt as you lower one arm down completely to your side.

"No time? Some as..." Its eyes gaze away as if pondering on what to say next, you release your shirt from its grip, patting down your shirt with a low gruff. "Eternal...as you, have no time?" You'd like to believe that its tone would nearly mocking if it weren't for it sound one-note. "This matters not at the moment, nor is it the reason I've called for you" You narrow your eyes slightly in confusion, yet when you tried to take a step back, the bot grabbed a hold of your arm.

"You're the one the called for me?" It merely nods its head, allowing you to see the streak of silver above its head before its eyes gaze at you again. "My master & everyone around me used to call me Metal Sonic" you only hum in response realizing you've never asked for the stranger's name, "But in this form..." Its hand lowers down you arm until its metallic palm is holding you hand, lifting it to where both of you can see it. "I am Neo Metal Sonic"

The way each word is said is as if it were a fact, something you decide not to question. "& while I wait for my master, you & I can lead as Gods for the time being" Gods? You wish you could utter a laugh at what you're hearing, before you can let a word leave your mouth, Metal Sonic reaches from behind him & you brace yourself, ready incase of him going to abruptly attack you, but instead are met with a glowing crystal in the shape of a diamond.

Its wine-like color glowed against Metal Sonic's surface, nearly matching that of his eyes. "Ever seen one before? It's a chaos emerald" The glow fades & resurfaces slowly, you gingerly caress the emerald, the coldness radiating off of it upon contact is close enough to cause goosebumps. "Uh...What did you...when you said..." You masticate your inner cheek, unsure if it was to process what the bot stated or to distract you from the cold of the emerald.

Neo hastily snatches your hand & tugs you forward as he begins to walk behind him like a parent holding onto their child, making you nearly fall from its sudden action. "I see your confusion dear" the faith illumination of the emerald can be barely seen from Neo holding it in front of his vision, its luster presumably brighter than before. "But I trust that with time, you'll understand, eventually"

"You & I, we will be regarded as Gods" It grip on your arm tightens, though you hardly react to it, both curious & fearful when you process what Neo's saying, dreading when everything will get out of hand from Metal Sonic choosing to play God.

"Understand what exactly...!?" Neo keeps quiet, whether not hearing you deliberately or not is unclear to you, "That's something you shouldn't worry for now" You hardly pay attention to any words it says, your chest feels heavy as if someone were putting their entire weight on you. "With this & the others remaining" Its voice, though low, booms in your skull like a harsh drum, you cough when the heaviness in your chest gets too much to handle, something that Neo pays no mind to.

[petalseas]

"Pahhh~. To find my loved one's book, gaining more knowledge for the so-called city. All under the guise of selfishness, to your 'heroic' beliefs." Rosemary muses, exposed digits unraveling tight knot around collared neck. Stepping out for a bit, escaping to a balcony on whoever's floor, others knowing how their former captain of safety handled one stressful trigger after another. ; Smoking. Something fruity, light. A tempory vice, for one's nerves to remain order.

If Neztach is loafing off, it's not his job to take care such a foolish man.

Pulling out an age old lighter, a pack from green inner pocket. Placing death coffin near lips, flame set alit, as two reunite, creating a familiar puff from lips.

"I should kick this habit out of here." A lie. "It's not healthy." Truth. "How unbelievable... Granted a second life. Can't argue against it." partial. After the hell that was L.Crop, vivid flashbacks that still eroded memories, even the sensations still linger.

Crimson eyes glare at the roof.

Inhaling another take. Exhaling.

Make the pain stop.

[larrkspurr]

A good day .

Caduceus centered drabble that's just cozy and sweet :'))

1009 words /// found family vibes (tmn all live in a house together okay) and some mentions of the clay family :')

Slowly, as not to anger his pained back, Caduceus pulled on his rainboots and shrugged on a coat. He takes a second, as he has a hand on the brassen doorknob, and notices the new carvings and paint on the door. Must be the work of Jester. He pushes the heavy door open, and it creaks. He pats the door gently as it closes. Me too. He thinks.

Their garden is quite big, and he’s grateful for it. He had spent a great deal of time in the garden since he first moved in. Weeding, digging, planting. The layout of it felt alot like home, with more planting areas and shrubbery than lawn space. He’d read somewhere (he couldn’t remember quite when, or where) that it was better that way too, for the animals and bugs. 

The wind had died down a bit as he wandered through the garden, checking that everything was where it was supposed to be. He noticed a poor tomato plant, one of the younger ones he had planted recently, had been uprooted. 

“Ah, that’s no good.” He hummed to himself, dropping to his knees and sinking his hands into the peat. The dirt is cold and wet in his hands, but in a way that he liked. It was soft in such a nice, natural way. This time as he digs, he made sure to make the hole deeper, and more stable so it wouldn’t happen again. 

Caduceus walks through the garden and spots a couple of birds, nestled together in the crook of a tree branch. He didn’t see any others, perhaps they were hiding. He thinks about how hot it gets during summer, perhaps he should put a bird bath in for those times. But for now, as he does one more round of his garden, watching the trees sway in the wind and the rain drip off of the roof, he heads inside. 

Jester is there to greet him, carrying an impossible amount of shopping bags. “Caduceus !” She chirps, her dress fluttering colorfully as she carries the groceries to the kitchen, “Are you busy? I’m about to make some pastries if you want to help!” 

He smiles at her and hums, nodding his head a bit. “Wonderful! Oh, were you digging in the dirt?”

He cocks his head, a bit confused. How did she know? But then he looks down at his hands. Oh. They’re still covered in dirt and grime. “Uh, yeah. The poor tomato plant got unrooted a bit from the wind.”

“Oh, that’s no good - hopefully it stays put this time,” she offers a cheeky smile. “Just make sure to wash your hands before we start!”

He washed his hands as she unpacked the groceries onto the bench. a lot of paper bags. she also brought out a bag of apples - oh, perhaps they were making an apple pastry ? That would be nice. He liked apple pastries, especially if they had cinnamon in them. Yeah. he might ask if they can add cinnamon. 

And so they bake. Well, Jester bakes and Caduceus helps. He holds the bowls when she asks, and helps measure out the flour. He skins the apples, with a blunt knife peeling towards him like mother always did. They’d eat apples, skinned and sliced, on summer afternoons. Him and his siblings would play in the pond until the sun fell, and biting bugs forced them inside. Late afternoons of iced tea and towels, wrapped tight around his shoulders. He thinks about home, and a sharp pang of hurt cuts into him. 

He cuts the apples into tiny pieces, not slices, and watches as Jester works at the dough. Her muscles ripple under her skin  like the ocean, with waves emerging from under the surface. 

She folds the dough into little triangles, scooping some filling into them, before pressing the prongs of a fork around the edges to seal it. Huh, when did she make the filling? He looked down at the cutting board and the little apple pieces were gone. Hm, maybe when he was busy looking out the window, watching the way the trees danced in the wind. 

They chatted then, about a couple things. Well, Jester chatted and Caduceus listened. He liked that about her, that she let him not speak, and didn’t judge him for it. 

 She spoke about lots of different things, about a new nail polish she got (he hated the smell of it but it always looked so pretty on her) and about a date that fjord took her on to the botanical gardens (he’s been meaning to visit, but never got around to it, the nearby park was so much closer for his aching bones). And then she started talking about movies - sometimes the way she jumped from one topic to the next was dizzying, but he liked the way her eyes lit up when she got excited about things. 

It was at the moment that Jester and Cad were plucking their second pastries from the cooling rack when Caleb and Veth walked into the kitchen. 

“Oooh, whatcha makin?” Veth asked, taking her bag and hanging over the back of one of the chipped, dining room chairs.

“Just made some pastries! You’re welcome to have some.” Jester offered a smile, one returned by both Veth and Caleb. As they both grabbed a pastry, and took a bite, they were met with appreciative hums. It was then Caleb spoke. His voice was low and soft as always, and Cad was too busy appreciating the way that his accent curled around constants and vowels to realize that he was being asked a question.

Caduceus blinked. “Oh, sorry - what was that?”

“We were going to watch a, uh, film. Did you want to watch it with us?” Caleb repeated, not unkindly.

“Oh, yeah… that sounds nice,” he hummed, “But maybe one that isn’t too scary.” He had made the mistake of watching a horror film once with the group - and hadn’t slept well for weeks. 

Jester took him by the hand and led him into the lounge room. He could hear the rain outside, and decided to sit back in his place next to the window. A blanket was draped comfortably on his lap. The movie was turned on - one that was nice and not too scary. He could see the droplets race down the glass of the window outside, like tears rolling down his cheeks - but with his friends by his side, he felt safe.

 It was a good day. 

[neverwholelahey]

Surprise Me: I’ll write a drabble about my character surprising yours.

They had finally settled on where they wanted to live. It was a small cute little house. It even had a little wrap around porch, something he had always wanted. They even had two rocking chairs, one on the porch, and one in the nursery. The nursery, which was still fairly bare. They still had three months before the twins would even be in their lives as tiny babies. And he had sent Emma out with Stiles and her sister Caroline, to do some shopping for the twins. He'd also given her his card, and told her, don't think about the cost, just get what you want. And he knew that meant it would be a long while before they would be back. Something he needed.

He had a grand plan for the nursery, well not when it came to the furniture. However, he had plans for the walls, and he had an idea for how the nursery would be laid out, at least with the cribs. He was going to create a massive mural on the wall that the cribs were going up against. Which were in the hallway, still in boxes. Something he would remedy if he had time. However, his sole focus was the mural. He had a several sketches, and reference images in one of the sketchbooks he'd been hiding from Emma. It was currently on his easel which he had dragged into the nursery. He had a lot of paint pots around the room, along with his graphite pencils. Because he was going to sketch it out first.

The first thing he sketched out, was the tree. Which was going to be in the middle, between the two cribs. In the background, on either side, he was sketching out silhouettes of wolves. One was him, one was Derek, because Derek was the one who turned him. And it mattered to Isaac. He even had some subtle references to the fact that Emma was a vampire, though through a bat, hanging from one of the tree branches, with blood dripping. He knew it was slightly morbid, but he didn't care too much. He wanted the mural to represent their lives, their family and friends. It was why there were two bats, almost hugging. There was even a fox hiding in the background. And more wolves, the friends he had lost. There were orchids in the foreground, to represent his mother. But most importantly, was the tree itself. Big, and ethereal, him drawing inspiration from the idea of the Nemeton. Albeit, he added globes of lights to it. Making it look lit up. The mural took up the entire wall, the biggest wall in the room.

By the time they came back, Isaac had everything sketched out, and the background was done, but he had not had time to finish the entire thing, since it was a big mural. But, he had begun painting the tree, and some of the animals, since some of them were in the background while some were in the foreground, or in the middle. He heard Emma walking up the stairs, and he had a huge smile on his face. Just glad he'd been smart to use paint that wasn't toxic, so she could actually be in the house as he painted, and while it dried. He was also covered in splatters of paint. His hair, his ear, hands, anywhere and every where. It was why the floor was covered with plastic, to make sure he didn't ruin it.

"Surprise." He said with the biggest goofiest smile when he saw her jaw drop at the sight of what he was standing in front of.

Imagine it's two cribs and not a queen bed. And the little details I added in text being added into the actual mural.

[kaylikestodrawlittlenightmares]

Lil Drabble for me and @fusionstrikee !

Most creatures knew novas had minds of their own despite their wish capabilities. Most novas didn’t know of each other or had one other friend nova. Lavender was a well pretty big type nova being the nova of childish wishes and desires.And when she spotted a dwarf nova she thought it was too adorable not to say hi too. “Hello hellloooooo!~” the bigger novas voice echoed to the smaller winged dwarf nova. “Mm?” The bigger nova was dripping with paint. Yet they stayed far enough as to not paint the other a deep blue “I’m lavender?what’s your name?Ooooh is it squishy? You look squishy!” The unnamed nova was confused and even a little intimidated the others wings were well kinda big and could pay away the other in the blink of an eye. “I do not have a name.” The bigger nova was surprised but seemingly still had a smile “I’ll call you squishy then! And we can be friends and play games! And talk to each other since there are no other novas around!” The smaller nova was a tad overwhelmed but gained their composure “sure. You name was lavender correct!” The other nova seemed happy the other instantly knew their name besides having told them a few seconds ago “correct squishy! You’re so cool! And you have a tail that’s so cool! I have stars! Are they cool are they?” She asked with a smile the other nova blinking before stating a simple “yes” The bigger nova was well playful “oooh you can meet my adoptive dad! He’s a really big nova!his name is Galacta nova! Uhm he has a bit of his face missing because of a whole incident with a very tiny pink thing and a jester but he’s alright now!” Was she talking about kirby and marx? The other knew very well of the incident. “The little pink thing likes my wings! Some times when it comes on its little warp-star I say hi and let it snuggle my wings! It’s so cute and small!” The smaller nova had always been more nervous about the small pink blorb.meanwhile the other seemed to be glad when they saw it. “You mean kirby?We are good friends.. sometimes.” The smaller nova said. “Then we should be Great friends! What do you say? Wanna be friends?” The Nova seemingly smiled “Sure!”

I Hope you liked my little Drabble! Your nova is super cute and I will kiss its lil forehead mwah!

[aquasoftware]

𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒑𝒊nk lipgloss. ୨❤︎‬୧

wc ౨ৎ 850

cw ౨ৎ fic type: Drabble. Blowjob, big dick! Choso, spit, teasin, whimpering, begging, needy! Choso, pwp, he has a happy trail, established relationship, dom(ish?) reader. //I haven’t wrote anything in so long if I’m rusty chill on me okay <\3

syn ౨ৎ Choso has a slight infatuation with your lips.

❤︎‬ Choso x f!reader

One thing about your boyfriend was that he loved everything about your lips, his attraction to it grew even worse when you'd decided to drench them in lip gloss making them so shiny he was drawn to stare as if you were some sort of Greek goddess.

This time he was staring at your pretty lips from a different angle, sat so adoringly in front of him on your knees, he could feel himself easily getting harder for what was about to come.

A harsh yank was done to his pants along with his underwear as you watched it glide to his ankles. Tiny petal-like touches adorned his length, making his breath hitch, watching your fingers explore the throbbing veins. Going steadily you spat on the head; two hands wrapping around his entire shaft pumping Choso until everything was coated in your saliva.

At first you gave your boyfriend a few kitten licks letting more spit drip onto his manhood making it more messy. Your warm tongue dived onto the slit of the sensitive tip causing him to let a raspy deep moan slip out forcing Choso to instantly close his eyes shut.

One hand dipped downwards to touch his balls, your left hand squeezing it like a little hug, suddenly Choso moans were as loud as sirens "Aah f-fuck.. yes, play with those balls baby that feels so good." He looked down at you with a quivering voice, beginning to move your hair out the way as he gazed in pure salaciousness at your cherry pink lip gloss tainting his shaft leaving sticky marks, which only made the scene more intimate for him.

You did just what he asked, moving your head down to suck and tease the skin of his balls carefully and gently nipping at it with your teeth. Choso shut his eyes at the fierce pleasure he made one more request, he absolutely needed it "Oh.. my god, use your mouth nowww." He whined not being able to take anymore prolonged teasing.

Furrowing your brows looking up at him you friskily pout playfully asking "Is that how you ask?" Your right hand continuously stroked his shaft desperately waiting for an answer and by now Netflix was in idle mode asking if the two of you were still watching, the silence afterwards between the both of you painted the heavy hot air.

At this point he didn't care he was becoming so needy for you, Choso broke the short silence to get what he at last wanted, "Please, please, please use your mouth Y/n I need you so bad." He looked down at you begging for it the biggest puppy eyes  appearing on his face convincing you to give in.

It was hard to say no to those pleading violet eyes, of course satisfied at the whiney nature of your boyfriend, you brought your head closer now grabbing onto Choso's thighs as you took some of his cock in your mouth nearly gagging at eight inches worth of dick.

Choso stroked your chin feeling relief at your warm cave taking him in, but immediately switched his hand onto your head once you began to bob yourself up and down the tip of your nose touched his happy trail every now and then when you reached the base.

The words to what he spewing out couldn't even be understood, his incoherent babbling proceeded up until he grabbed a handful of hair unexpectedly bucking up into your mouth, causing you to moan in surprise yet the vibrations went straight to his dick as your manicured nails sunk deep into his pale thighs.

"Shittt, ngh, I'm—I'm so close..." Choso cried out breathing heavily when you began to bob your head at a faster pace using two hands to stroke him again, you could feel his manhood throb faster than a bullet in your hands. Your tongue was an ocean sweeping on the underside of his dick soon he couldn't take it anymore.

Feeling so stimulated from the severe amounts of gratification, his breath became even more irregular than before. Slowly his whimpers grew louder the grip on your hair started to feel tight he felt a familiar burning sensation throughout his body, "I'm coming, I'm coming, oh fuck..." he groaned at the feeling of his orgasm slamming him.

At last his thick white seed painted all throughout your mouth, it felt like fireworks exploding. Choso's mind felt fuzzy and empty he let out a few more moans from his powerful climax. You finally released his dick from your mouth with a loud pop looking up at him all doe eyed, sticking out your tongue that dripped out his cum. swallowing after you showed him.

"Fuckk, baby you're so beautiful.." He panted, noticing that you got up taking off your plaid pants along with your black panties. You wanted to give him a small break before riding him but, the pounding between your thighs was almost uncomfortable.

A villainous-like grin washed over on your face, practically excited to torture the poor man with multiple rounds of your pussy as Choso was in for a long overstimulating time that night.

7/27/24 4:22 pm masterlist.

[alphareleasemedia]

Daily Drabbles for 8/20/23 - 8/28/23

8/20/23 Princess Fufu sniffed daintily as she dabbed at her nose with a handkerchief. Allergy season was in full swing and the princess had been dreadfully afflicted. It had gotten to the point that she could no longer take her afternoon strolls through the gardens without coming down in a fit of sneezing. Princess Fufu had had to find ways to amuse herself indoors. Though even that couldn't fully protect her from all the allergens abundant in the air. Just now she'd had the embarrassment of sneezing directly into the duke's tea. It was his own fault for bringing her flowers.

8/21/23 The river flowed by in a rush. The water a thick gray from glacial silt. She picked up a piece of driftwood, the bark worn smooth from the river. She turned it over in her hand before throwing it back to the water. The wood landed lightly floating along the top of the river as it was swiftly swept away. She next picked up a smooth dark gray river stone. It landed in the water with a great splash and loud plop. She grabbed a larger stone and hurled it out into the middle of the river. A big splash.

8/22/23 The rain fell in tiny pinpricks of moisture misting the air. The surrounding world had turned into a cloud of washed out gray. Off in the distance the dark outline of a looming mountain could just be made out. In the small circle of world that could be seen was ringed with scrawny pine trees pointing up like fuzzy needles. Sturdy shrubs sprung up between the trees. Lichen and bushes filled out the underbrush. Somewhere off in the trees a bird called out, but other than that there was no sign of any wildlife in the immediate surrounding wilderness area.

8/23/23 Sally sighed as she stared off into the beautiful vista before her. The sun had immerged from behind the clouds and lit up the whole world in a stunning display of colors. From the blue mountains stretching off into the distance to the vast array of greens from muted to vibrant to the streaks of red and yellow dotting the landscape with some delightful variation. It was all so beautiful, Sally could hardly believe her eyes. It didn't seem like any of it could be real. Looking around her, Sally felt as if she'd stepped into a Bob Ross painting.

8/24/23 There was no butter to be found, but Marcie really wasn't a fan of putting margerine on her toast. Her eyes scanned the shelves of the fridge, searching for what, she couldn't say. Marcie didn't want jam, not with her eggs, and various other spreads for her toast didn't sound good to her when paired with fried eggs. Marcie turned to the counter where said eggs were quickly cooling. The toaster was due to pop any second and if Marcie was going to be spreading cold margerine on her toast then she needed to be ready when it did pop.

8/25/23 There was a lot of bright light and noise coming from the TV, but Suzy had tuned it all out. All the lights were off in the livingroom leaving it dark and cozy. Suzy was stretched out on the couch with a blanket thrown over her and a pillow behind her head. It was very comfortable and Suzy found her eyelids starting to droop. She had seen the movie before, so she didn't mind missing a few moments here and there as she lightly dozed. A large explosion filled the screen as Suzy yawned and finally gave in to sleep.

8/26/23 I started coughing almost as soon as the cold air hit my lungs. Not so much from the cold itself, though that could make me cough sometimes, but from the recent rain which had stirred something up that my respitory system did not like at all. It was definitely a plant of some kind. As I moved farther away from the building and down the path that wound through the trees my coughing only got worse. I tried covering my face with my arm as I hurried along towards the parking lot, but that didn't help much. The coughing continued.

8/27/23 Ferk tried to wipe away the sweat that was threatening to drip off his forehead but only succeeded in getting it in his eyes anyway. He grumbled as he drew his stinging eyes across his sleave. Ferk was well and truly tired of being outside. It was a hot day. With no clouds or even a light breeze to offer any relief from the oppression of the sun. Ferk glared up at it out of the corner of a reddened eye as another drop of sweat rolled off the tip of his nose. Served him right for getting the mail.

8/28/23 Bikendi shifted the sucker in his mouth from one cheek to the other as he examined the bowl of candies. It was all hard candies, which weren't usually his favorite, but Bikendi was in the mood for something sweet and he'd take what he could get. He cracked the sucker in his mouth in two and started chewing on the pieces as he pulled a caramel from the bowl. He knew that wasn't how you were supposed to eat hard candies, but he didn't care. He liked the crunch. Though it did mean Bikendi went through candies a lot faster.

[buckyodinson]

Wipe It Away

Bruce Wayne x gn!Reader

Summary: tiny little drabble of your little routine for when Bruce comes back after a night as the caped crusader

Word count: 600~

Warnings : rbatz (this man should be a warning just by himself tbh), mentions of a minor injury, mentions of drinking, mostly just fluff

A/N: I kinda just dropped off the face of the planet for a hot minute. Work has been tough and I’ve had no motivation to do anything until I saw this emo bat boy and he’s been stuck in my head all week

Bruce always told you not to wait up for him while he was out at night. But you found yourself unable to sleep until he returned, so you’d busy yourself with other things. Some nights it was watching movies, some were spent reading. Others were spent doing crafty things to keep your hands and mind busy. And occasionally you and Alfred would have a night of drinking and chatting.

Whenever your heard the familiar rumble of his bike or car, you felt yourself let out a sigh of relief. Some nights were spent pacing when he’d been gone much longer than usual, and you always felt the biggest weight lifted off your shoulders upon his return.

Tonight was no different. The sun had just begun to creep over the horizon when he finally got back home. He found you sat in bed reading a book and fidgeting with your bookmark. Despite your smile, you looked exhausted and you could see the guilt dripping off him at keeping you up all night.

He’d already taken off the batsuit before coming up to the bedroom, so he was now stood before you in a ratty shirt and sweatpants. A far cry from the intimidating stature he prowled the streets of Gotham with. Your Bruce was stood in front of you now. Not the ‘Prince of Gotham’ - he’d always hated that moniker. Not the Batman. He wanted to keep that away from you as much as possible. The real Bruce Wayne stood before you, in all his beautifully awkward glory. And you loved him.

He perched himself next to you, allowing you to complete your usual routine upon him coming home. You pull out the box from under the bed and set to work, his skin still cool from the elements of the night as you lightly grip his chin to move his face around and check for damage. No matter the time of year, Gotham’s air always has a chilling bite to it. He tilts his head further to let you wipe at a cut on his jaw, a small smile curling onto his lips as you place a gentle kiss next to the cut when you’re done.

It seems like such a simple thing, and silly really, but he takes great comfort in you wiping the black paint off of his eyes when he gets home. Once you’re happy that any injuries are dealt with, he closes his eyes and relaxes as you wipe the darkness away. Wipe the evidence of the night away. Allow him to leave the night behind and enjoy the now with you. You always press a kiss between his eyebrows to signify you’re done, and it never fails to make him blush.

You’ve done it hundreds of times, and yet it still gets the same reaction. There’s something so tender about the whole affair and somehow Bruce loves you more and more every single night once you’re done.

“Thank you.” He murmur as he leans forward to catch your lips.

You kiss him back languidly, smiling into the kiss when you reach up to tenderly hold his cheek and feel his skin has warmed up. From the warmth of the bedroom or from the adorable blush painting his cheeks, you’re not quite sure but you welcome the warmth regardless.

You pull back and run your thumb over his cheekbone, “You don’t have to thank me every time. I’ll always be here to take care of you.”

“Too bad. I’m not gonna stop.” He simply smirks as he crawls around the bed and lays down, opening his arms for you to crawl into his side. You quickly dive under the covers too and cuddle up to him.

“Night, Bruce.” You steal one more kiss before tucking your head into his neck.

“Good night, sweetheart.” He presses a kiss to the top of your head and pulls you in tight, drawing absentminded patterns against your back as you drift off. His mind finally calms down and he soon follows you into a peaceful night’s sleep.

-

If you made it this far, thanks for reading and indulging my little Bruce fantasy 🥰

And if you wanna send some Bruce ideas 👀 can’t promise anything, but I can certainly see myself writing a few more little drabbles like this if I get inspiration…