#Drabble name palette

[tilthedayidice]

Could I get a name palette for the name "Drabble" please?

Drabble is of old English origins from the name Drabil or Drabel meaning "To hew wood":

(its the shaping of logs into planks)

Dice Envy Thorn to be Wild

Dice Envy River Magic

Chessex Festive Vibrant

Chessex Lustrous Alpestris

Q-Workshop Green Forest

HD Dice Kiwi

Fennek & Finch Druidcraft

My color associations:

Dice Envy (I lost my name card :( )

Dice Envy Honeyed Words

Chessex Underworld Vortex

Chessex Festive Rio

HD Dice Ancient Gold

Ice Cream Dice Orange Float

Dark Moon Dice Evermore

[eternalguk]

can i get a drabble or lil oneshot where oc and jungkook are moving to a new house or planning a new one, renovation or layout and it turns into a fight but ends in fluff something warm please in this cold winter🩵🥹

Drabble 02 — IKEA Showrooms & Moody Nightclubs (Jungkook x reader)

Warnings ; swearing & two idiots

Masterlist

“Excuse me, what?!”

“I said, you’re acting like it’s just you moving in and not both of us!” Jungkook huffs, lifting up the last of the cardboard boxes and moving it out of the way before you trip over it… again.

“Am not! Your ideas are just stupid, Jungkook.” You retort, rolling your eyes as you stare at the tin of black paint before you.

You had strictly sent Jungkook to go and buy some paint for the main wall of the living area. Your instructions were very simple to follow really. Jungkook had to choose from either ‘magnolia’, ‘fine cream’, ‘milky pail’ or ‘vintage chandelier’.

“They’re really not, babe.” Jungkook shoots back. “You’re just going to make the house look like a fucking ice cream shop!”

Your boyfriend rolls his eyes, rethinking the decision of letting you take reign over the renovating process.

“You’re infuriating, I’m leaving.” You respond, anger carefully etched into every corner of your face.

“Where to? The bedroom that’s painted with ‘tranquil vanilla’.” Jungkook quotes with his fingers, chuckling at the names of these paints whilst simultaneously rolling his eyes.

“It’s ’summer linen’ actually, you’d know if you came with me.” You move to sit on the floor, opening the notebook to continue the never ending list of things you need for your new place.

It all started with a small disagreement. Well, small to you anyway.

The colour of the living room walls.

Jungkook was insisting that you go for a moodier colour palette, but you argued that black and grey everywhere would either look like his boring office or a fucking nightclub!

“I just want to feel calm, gukkie.” You pout, hoping it works in your favour like it usually does. “Black and grey… no calm.” You sniffle, wanting to take the acting even further.

“And I want to feel at home, not like I’ve been trapped in an Ikea showroom.” Jungkook joins you on the floor, mirroring your sniffle.

There was silence… for approximately thirty seconds.

Now, you could have been mature about it… but maturity? Nope! That had flown out the window just like Jungkook’s sanity when he decided to bring home black paint.

“You’re not helping, Jungkook.” You sigh, giving him a knowing look.

At this point, you’d really think Jungkook would know better.

“And you want everything to go your way!” He shouts, rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time that evening.

“My way makes more sense, Jungkook!” You assert, standing up and folding your arms as you stare down at him. “Stop making me out to be such a control freak.”

“Well, I mean-“

“Jeon Jeongguk!”

“Y/L/N Y/N!”

The two of you are now standing eye to eye. Brows furrowed, cheeks warm and huffing as loudly as possible.

As if on cue, you both burst out laughing, shaking your head at the immaturity.

Laughing with Jungkook was definitely the treasure of today. His laughter was your serenity because in those moments, you felt the most alive.

“I’m sorry,” you both mumble at the same time, eyes softening.

“I feel so excited about moving in together, I just want it all to be perfect.” Jungkook admits, pulling you into his arms.

Your heart drops instantly, moving forward to rest your heard against his welcoming chest. “You’re right,” you confess. “I got carried away, but I agree, this is meant to be a home for both of us.”

Jungkook gently pulls you back, looking down at you with his cocoa eyes full of love. “Summer chandelier doesn’t sound so bad,” he whispers, a teasing lilt lacing his tone.

You smile brightly. “It’s summer linen, baby.”

“Mhm?”

“Black decor would compliment it,” you cheekily snicker, earning a groan from him. “We can go to the IKEA showrooms you love so much.”

Jungkook wraps his arms around you tighter, engulfing you into a hug that weaves your souls closely together.

“No,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “We’ll go through your Pinterest board and recreate it.”

You laugh, nuzzling your nose against him. You knew that whether your home ends up looking like an ice cream shop or a nightclub, it would still feel like home. Because your home was right in front of you, swaying you in his arms.

Hope you enjoyed reading this 🫶🏻 it’s not my best, but I was able to quickly put something together to help distract me from the fact that I missed Jungkook’s live 🥺

[lanabuckybarnes]

💳💳💳 take all my money but pleeeeease write more about dirty big boy Lee who wants to give you his son because that small drabble had me sweatin already😮‍💨

Ask and thee shall receive!

Breeding Bitch

18+ MINORS DNI

(I do not own any photos, Credits to original owners)

Uhhh so this is fucking….maybe the warnings would describe this a bit better hehe 👀.

Pairing: Lee Bodecker x Reader

Warnings: Dark Lee!, LEE BODECKER!!, Dub/Non-Con Themes, Unestablished Age Gap but there is definitely one (Reader 20s, Lee late 30s/40s), Cheating (it's Lee), Teeny Size Kink if you squint, Names: Darlin, Good Girl, Baby, Slut, Bitch, Whore, Heifer, Girl. Handcuffing, Good ole Gaslighting, Degradation, Gagging, Dirty Talk, Cervix Abuse, Voyeurism? (Your father is in the next room), He uses the fact that your Pa is so close to his advantage, Mentions of Breeding, actually Breeding, Alcohol (Again, It’s Lee), Marking, Biting, Slapping, Bleeding (from yer cooch), Spitting, Daddy Kink, Rough P in V, Threats (Lee threatens your teeth), Dacryphilia, Panty Stuffing, Absolutely zero aftercare— if I’ve missed anymore, especially in a story like this one, please lemme know!!

DO NOT PROGRESS IF ANY WARNING(s) TRIGGER YOU PLEASE!!

Word Count: 1.2k

This is a doozy. I’ll put a lil palette cleanse at the end for you my loves ♥️

“Augh shit you’re fucking tight” Lee growls above you, cock head pushed uncomfortably against your cervix, your hands cuffed above your head and your panties in your mouth.

You would never admit this to anyone. The almost nightly occurrences of Lee ending up in your little cottage on the hill, his pants round his ankles and his cock wherever he so chose.

It was his wife’s fault, he’d told you; she was sick, old and unable to give him what he wanted. That’s why when you moved into town, bright-eyed and innocent, he had to have you.

His head rolled with his eyes, a strained groan flowing from his lips as his tummy jiggled softly at the tightening of his core.

“Never get over a tight little pussy like this” You whined as he pushed further, sheathing his dick fully inside you.

What would your daddy say if he saw you like this, legs spread akimbo for a married man, the Sheriff no less? Your hands pulled against the cuffs attached to the headboard, the rhythmic clanging had Lee’s eyes shooting open.

“Hey now! Darlin” a huge hand smoothed over your metal clasped wrists before running down your arm to your left breast, he squeezed firmly.

“You wouldn’t want your daddy waking up now would you?” that fucking smirk, the dark look in his eyes— he had you, right where he wanted— the reminder of your feeble old Pa in the next room keeping you tamed, Lee didn’t care about him finding out about your little secret, he’d fuck you right in front of him, but he knew it would keep you pliant for him.

You stopped, hands hanging painfully from the cuffs.

“Good girl, knew you’d come around…now you let me breed this little cunt, loosen up a bit, enjoy it” The brandy on his breath had you queasy as it mixed with his residual cologne. His thick lips peppered marks all over your breast, tongue licking the flesh before biting down with a force that had your toes curling and you crying out into the cotton of your panties.

“Oh don’t be dramatic” he chuckled, slapping the reddened mark lightly. He groaned as he pulled his length out slowly, letting you feel each inch run over the stretched flesh of your heat until his cock head fell from you in a sickly squelch, his precum mixed with your blood.

“God baby, you’re fucking soaked…you like me doing this to you? Course you do you fucking slut” Lee gleams wickedly before launching a huge glob of spit over your clit and his head, his thick fingers circling your clit once, twice and then rubbing the saliva over himself.

He keeps your head still, forcing you to look at him as he pushes in again, making you watch as his dark eyes swim with amusement at your pathetic little whimpers.

“Mmmn…you know, if I didn’t have to do this, I’d feel bad for your stupid little face” Lee laughs, slapping his fingers against your cheek mockingly.

His patience had worn thin, you were lucky enough to get this much prep from him but he was over it now— the growing itch to fill your fertile little hole with his cum becoming too overwhelming.

He slams in, hitting your already abused cervix painfully. His pace is brutal, the only thing stopping the headboard from clattering off the wall being the pillow he’d so ‘generously’ placed between them.

“Oh shit! you fucking little breeding bitch, ahh I ain’t ever had a pussy this tight… fucking made for me, wasn’t it? Yeah, it fucking was” Lee rambles, as he usually does. You could do nothing but take whatever he was giving you, you wouldn’t dare fight back— did you even want to at this point? He had you all cock drunk, stupid little baby so you were.

“Mmm, baby you like this” Lee spoke assertively, punctuating each word with a hard thrust “Push me away as much as you want but at the end of the day you’re still gonna take my load happily… I mean look” he laughs as he pushes your legs from his wide shoulders, they fall open on their own. “You fucking hold yourself open for my spunk, you fucking want this, you need it… you want my son ya little slut”

The quick yank of your panties from your mouth made you gag slightly, the drool that had gathered falling from the corner of your mouth and into your tresses of hair. It amused Lee, watching you stare off into that little space you ran to, unable to control your body— you let him fuck you however he wante— no, however you needed.

Lee’s hand clasped around your face painfully, his thumb hooking behind your teeth “fucking answer me whore, or I’ll pull these out” a firm tug to your lower jaw warned you before he spat again, the hot liquid falling right on your tongue.

“I want this… wan you! Want your baby! Please Lee gimme your baby” you wailed, no longer caring about your volume.

“Good little slut, always begging for daddy ain’t you? You take this fucking baby, you take everything I give you” Lee’s pace stuttered, only for a second, but it told you everything you needed to know and you were disgusted at the way your body pled for it. The way your back arched, your pussy squeezing and frantic cries fell from your lips as your orgasm slammed into you like a train.

“Oh shit! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” Lee practically screamed as he sank himself into one last time, releasing spurt after spurt of his thick, hot, cream against your bruised womb entrance. You don’t know how long his dick sat in your throbbing canal, only falling from you once he was fully soft.

“God, who’d I fucking bless to get a little heifer like you hmm?” He spoke eventually, kissing your cheek, allowing his tongue to poke out and lap at the salty tears falling freely from your big sad eyes.

“Don’t look so fucking upset at this, it’s a good thing, you’re being used for something great…I know girls that would have their panties round their ankles in no time if I let them” He chuckled while standing, fingers gripping your discarded undergarments to wipe along his cock, gathering his cum, and your slick; which had a tinge of red from the tear in your fragile skin he caused by stretching you out.

Once he deemed himself clean enough, he ran the panties through the mess pouring from your core.

“This won’t do, you’re supposed to keep it in” He tutted before pushing the soaked material into your stretched hole, his fingers stuffing the scratchy fabric into you carelessly. He made quick work of the cuffs digging painfully into your wrists, placing a quick peck over each dark mark around them.

“Tomorrow, I don’t want none of this fighting bullcrap you hear? No panties, no bra, no attitude— just you, alright girl?” He pushed your cheeks together, puckering your lips in the process.

You knew that what you said to him wouldn’t matter, he’d take you all the same so you just nodded like you would every single time his cerulean stare flickered over your much smaller structure.

“Atta girl” His lips grazed over your own, and then like a ghost, he was gone, leaving you to sob in a pile of your own mess.

-

I’m so sorry for him, he’s not usually like this, I promise he’s a nice guy 😔 🚩

Here’s your payment~

[yan-lorkai]

Hi Lorkai! I really like your work! I hope I'm not breaking any rules, but could I request something?

So, Malleus hatched from an egg, right? I was thinking about a dragon egg magically appearing in his bed while he sleeps. When he sees it, he knows it's his and his darling's baby. Like, the egg manifests because he loves his darling VERY MUCH.

What do you think he would do next? Would he tell his darling about their baby, or keep it a secret? Would he use the egg to baby-trap his darling?

If you're uncomfortable writing this request, feel free to ignore it! It's alright, I understand. Have a great day!"

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Hiii darling (⁠｡⁠･⁠ω⁠･⁠｡⁠)⁠ﾉ~, thanks for your gentle words. Wrote a little drabble and some hcs for you, hope you like it and have a good day /night too!

It was almost like a dream coming true, albeit a bit too early. Malleus was still courting his beloved, slowly expressing his interest through his gestures and words, but he loved his beloved so much that his feelings simply gave life to a whole new being. And as soon as he wakes up in the morning, his eyes water when he sees the egg, when he holds it and feels life pulsing inside. Malleus doesn't usually cry but he cries a waterfall while he holds his unborn child. He is just that happy.

His and his darling's child. Your child. He already imagine they would look. Would they look more like you or more like him? Would they smile so sweetly like you? Would they be sassy and funny like you? Gods, he already wished to meet them. Alas, dragon faes take a while to hatch.

Thunder rolls across the dark skies as a sea of ​​feelings passes through him. And while he holds the egg against his chest, Malleus sets out to find you and tell you the news. He knows where you are, he can feel it and in a shower of green fireflies he appears in front of you. Eyes still shining with tears and a light blush over his face.

"Meet our child." He says softly. Softer than anything he's ever said, so happy that he hands you the egg to hold while he explains to you how dragon fae are conceived.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Now, how Malleus act depends on how you react to the news. He could be a doting boyfriend (and someday in the future a husband) to you and an amazing father for the child. If you are happy with the news, he's going to be delighted, already planning your marriage and life in his mind, discussing names for your child and the color palette for their room. Overall the next days he's spending each and every minute by your side.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Though the moment the child is born, all of you are going home. A school is no place for a baby to grow up, if you still want to pursue your education then Malleus is going to hire the best professors to give you private lessons in the castle. And also to help you adapt to fae society if you are human.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ But if you are to reject him or deny being the other parent, Malleus will not take this lightly. The child is yours, no amount of denying will work. You may just be scared but this is no excuse to sprout lies, a new life was born for his love for you and dragon fae needs love from both parents to exist, or so he says. He'll guilt trip into becoming the other parent and to stay with him. He didn't have his parents growing up and he was so so lonely, his child will have both parents present, even if he has to use his magic on you for you to cooperate.

[divinit3a]

A sampler platter of January prompts! Mix & match🍴 ty @luckyyyduckyyy for the name idea, its so cute :D

🎨 For artwork- use the colors swatches in your piece! Limited color palette, full color, monochrome, your choice! 📝 For writing- pick 2-5 of the words/phrases, and work them into your drabble! Directly mentioned, solely as inspiration, your choice! 📅 The 'deadlines' to post by are as follows: Jan 12th, Jan 22nd, Feb 1st 2025. 💚 Have fun! These 'rules' are to add a layer of creative challenge and act as a springboard for ideas. Feel free to use these prompts however you'd like (for dca, ocs, other fandoms, etc) & to break out of the ruleset.

the tag is #cafeprompts2025

if you'd like to be added to a ping list for these prompt lists, let me know!

good luck, have fun! 💚💚💚

[diejager]

Am kinda curious and want more of monster's 141 +Konig and other's x human reader.

So! Before all the shit Graves did, how was meeting with reader?? Was it bad or did he and the shadow vampire also wanted her?? Am soooo curious, and hopefully you can see this ask !!

P.s I love your writing !!!! 😆😆

Cw: blood drinking, trafficking, tell me if I missed any.

In the same occasion as this Drabble, before all the shit Shepherd and Graves put TF141 and the Los Vaqueros through, he’s a man of self-priority, putting his ego and goals before anyone else’s. He’s a selfish and condescending man, controlling in occasions and extremely possessive of the things that are is —either given or taken.

He wants you out of curiosity and need, he’s a simple vampire after all. It’s the curiosity to know what makes you so special to the men in 141, what makes them cling to you so strongly with a protective stance and this overarching need to have you unharmed from them or other people; and the need for fresh and filling nourishment, something young and lively.

You smell sweet and healthy, something every vampire craves to stay strong and thrive. You would make an amazing blood bag, or perhaps a human thrall used for feeding and servitude alone. You smelled like addiction, good blood that Graves rarely found wherever he went: poor and famished countries, abandoned and forgotten towns, disease and drug ridden cities. Humanity had turned for the worse and he has a specific palette, he’s sophisticated —or so he likes to call himself. He’s a commander of a known PMC, he has power and fame, how hard is it to find the right blood bag? Difficult.

While it might be easy to make someone disappear, he can’t have someone - anyone - besmirch his name or his company’s. That’s why he usually feeds on cold bags he buys from hospitals and other companies catering to monsters and hybrids, or feeds on those that are willing to be bought. Once he’s had his fill, his Shadows get the rest, lapping at the lasting drops, leaving just enough blood in their victim to stay alive, heart beating slow and body still warm.

You are temptation in the face, sweetness that they were starved for a while now. It didn’t quell his interest knowing that Price and his boys were ruthlessly protective of you, lingering so close to you and never leaving you alone. It’s like a game, a taunt or something Graves could hold over their heads if he got you. If not a win, it was fun.

Taglist: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @bvxygriimes @distracteddragoness @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel @im-making-an-effort @love-dove-noora @jinxxangel13 @daisychainsinknots @0alk0msan @mul-pi @danielle143 @virginalsacrifice @beau-min @makayla-666 @urfavsunkissedleo @kaelysia @mixplara @notspiders @velvetsoulweaver @luvecarson @petwifed @aldis-nuts @randominstake

[tangylemonade]

Worth It

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Wonwoo Drabble

Smut

No idea how many words. I didn’t even proofread this. I’m trying to slowly get back into writing with a few drabbles but idk. I wrote this after the Wonwoo live where he talked about breaking his glasses. My dirty mind wrote this right away but I only just got around to posting it.

Wonwoo’s hands frantically squeezed every curve of your body.

His lips were hot against skin.

Frantically he wanted all of you.

Your shirt lifted above your head allowed the cold air to perk your nipples while his gentle fingers left buzzing along your bare skin.

Careful not to break another pair of glasses today, you took a moment to gently take off Wonwoo glasses and place them on the vanity behind you.

The vanity was scattered with the makeup you were supposed to be putting on him for his live schedule later but the idea of ravishing each other behind a hopefully locked door was more tempting.

You missed each other too much to wait.

Wonwoo pulled your legs around his waist lifting you against his body. You felt his arousal pressing deliciously into your heat.

Moaning into the kiss was all you could do as your mind spun frantically in anticipation.

The warmth of your supple bare skin against him was al consuming for Wonwoo. Without a thought he placed you on the vanity nocking a few of the things to the ground and crushing a few others.

His strong hand on the small of our back kept you pressed into him as he slid up your skirt before unbuttoning his pants.

“Won..”

His name rested unfinished on your lips as he pushed into you. You threw your head back, forgetting yourself in the pleasure.

“Shhhh…” he said, reminding you that you two weren’t the only people in this building. Normally Wonwoo would love to hear you screaming for him but for the sake of the quicky, silence was unfortunately required.

“Fuuuck…” you moaned through gritted teeth as his rhythmic strokes already had you seeing stars.

Your slick cunt was tight around his throbbing cock, both of you only just realizing how long it’d been.

He said his own selection of curses into your neck as he peppered your skin with hot kisses.

“Mhhh…Wonwoo…” was all you could say as pleasure ripped through your body leaving you thoughtless and out of breath. Wonwoo followed soon after with a grunt before resting his tired head on your shoulder.

After catching your breath and reorganizing your clothes on your body you begin to clean the mess Wonwoo had tossed to the floor.

“Oh this palette is totaled.” You said with a laugh.

“Thankfully I think that’s all that’s bro-“ you gasped, cutting your sentence off as you kneeled down to pick up Wonwoo’s glasses. Well, one of the pieces of his glasses. The other piece had somehow slid to the other side of the room.

You held out both pieces to him with apologetic eyes.

He threw his head back in gorgeous laughter.

“So fucking worth it.” He said taking the two pieces from you and examining them.

“Got any tape?”

CURIOUS ABOUT MORE OF MY WORK?

CLICK HERE

[armysantiny]

The Pale Idol – PSH

P: Seonghwa x gender neutral reader | G: fluff, fantasy, drabble | Inc: Baldur's Gate 3 au, vampire elf!Seonghwa, Seonghwa is basically Astarion, tiefling!reader, mentioned Jongho, mentioned Wooyoung, tiefling!Wooyoung, makeup artist!reader, mentioned San, drow!San, implied Hongjoong mention, high half elf!Hongjoong| Wc: 1.1k | W: mentioned blood, old bite marks | R: G

Min's notes: This idea struck and would not leave me until I wrote it out. This fic's quality is questionable lmao, but I like it and that's enough for me. If I like this enough I'll do headcanons abt what the other members are lol. Also fuck tumblr's 5 link/tags per line thing-

Seonghwa lifts his head from his phone when his name is called, abandoning the green room’s sofa in favour of the stool his makeup artist is calling him to. He’s not the last one to have his hair and makeup done, but he has been able to relax while the others get ready. Precious minutes of simply sinking into the sofa and scrolling through the device in his hand.

Once he settles in his chair, his head turns to y/n, politeness melting away into a smile. They’ve got the brightest expression on their face, an eagerness he can feel in abundance. It’s rather charming, and a wonderful start to his day.

Even if he’s feeling a tad bit peckish.

“Morning to you too, y/n,” he chuckles, letting the Tiefling go about putting on his makeup for the group’s upcoming stage. “You seem excited today, something lifting your spirits?”

“Hm? Oh, yes! I have this new palette, you have to see the shades, Seonghwa, it’s going to highlight your eyes perfectly for this stage!” Y/n answers, bringing over the eyeshadow palette in question for Seonghwa to inspect. Much to their luck—and intuition—the makeup gets the idol’s seal of approval, and y/n gets to work right away. And Seonghwa is just the perfect client; holding himself just how y/n needs him to, closing his eyes exactly when needed.

The perfect symbol of grace, Park Seonghwa is.

Just as their close attention comes to an end and y/n goes to put their equipment away, the Tiefling’s gaze catches on something. It’s so small, so inconspicuous, clearly a small miracle they ever notice it at all. Hidden just below Seonghwa’s collar, in the crook of his neck, are two little scars.

And old vampire bite. Pale skin, the red eyes, the bite…

“Am I free to sit back on the sofa..?” Seonghwa’s watching them. Right. He’s caught them staring, surely the elf is uncomfortable.

“Yes! Yes, sorry, of course… you’re free to go.”

“Great. Thank you as always, y/n. Can we talk later?”

Later. The promise of conversation after the day’s recordings is daunting. Why he even suggested it in the first place, Seonghwa can’t recall. Y/n had seen it, his bite marks, and now he owes them an explanation, at the very least. Or a well-meaning half-truth if he has the heart to lie to them. His brow furrows, or well he supposes they do because Seonghwa feels a stare burning into the side of his head, San watching him with all-too-knowing eyes.

Damn the Drow for being so observant and empathetic. But San is a ray of sunshine, warm and loving, so all is forgiven. As it always is.

“Hyung,” San begins, “everything alright? Do you need..?”

“No, no, I’m okay,” and he is, “just a few things on my mind. It’s nothing to worry about, San-ah, promise.” Seonghwa isn’t lying. There isn’t anything—or at very least there shouldn’t be—to worry about. The performance will go well, he’ll smooth things over will y/n and maybe he’ll bother their high half-elf leader for a bite or two once night falls.

The performance ends almost as soon as it begins, adrenaline coursing through Seonghwa’s undead veins as the music comes to an end. Even as the idol works his charms for the close-up camera shot and the audience screams their praises, the prospect of confronting y/n hangs back in the crevices of his mind. Just like that horrifying mindflayer tadpole he once harboured, but that’s neither here nor there. So, after a few minutes of waving to fans onstage, Seonghwa tags along with his members and heads backstage, the green room and a darling Tiefling awaiting him.

What fun.

Y/n can barely look Seonghwa in the eye when he and the others walk back in, hands clamming up while they spend another minute or two or three distracting themselves with mundane tasks. How are they supposed to confess to the vampire that they’ve figured out that Seonghwa isn’t just an elf? It’s a small miracle in of itself that Jongho pulls them aside, needing y/n’s assistance, a clasp stuck on the idol’s mic pack.

“…mind if I interrupt?” y/n nearly jumps out of their own skin as Jongho’s clasp comes unstuck. Hells, was Seonghwa always this good at moving around silently?

“Nothing to interrupt,” they say, composure recovered, “is this going to be a private conversation?”

He nods. Very well, they can give him that much.

Following Seonghwa to a rather unused section of the green room, y/n stays decidedly quiet. Sure, the Tiefling knows, but this is Seonghwa’s secret to share. It’s not hard to see the nerves play out on his face either, the way the elf’s expression holds itself a little too stiff.

And then y/n blinks when Seonghwa just comes out with it.

“I should have told you sooner, y/n, really,” the elf continues, “but surely, my friend, you understand just how risky it is to admit my nature as a vampire. Especially in this line of work.” They understand. Of course they understand.

“I do, Seonghwa, really. And thank you for telling me, though…” y/n trails off, reaching for Seonghwa’s hands when said elf stares at them with panicked eyes. “It’s nothing bad, I promise! I didn’t want to intrude on your revelation, just now, but I did figure it out. Earlier.”

Never has the Tiefling seen Seonghwa so flustered before. They watch the way he clears his throat, avoids looking at them for all of ten seconds before plastering on a nervous grin.

“How— how did you..?”

Y/n launches into their explanation, suddenly very aware that they probably should have brought up their suspicions ages ago. Like how they hadn’t wanted to point out how rare it is for high elves to have crimson-red eyes, or how the idol is paler than most and spends a little longer just observing his own reflection. Not that y/n always knew, but the old bite mark did play a decently large part in them finally putting two and two together.

“I was that obvious, was I?”

“…a bit?” Seonghwa groans. His hair falling across his face as he hangs his head in defeat. All that effort, all that time spent crafting his illusion and y/n figured it all out. Just like that. Now they’re laughing! All bashful and giggly and—

Hells below he wants to hide.

“My dear, can we please put this conversation to bed? Preferably before I go and ask Wooyoung to smite me?”

Y/n nods, not without stifling the rest of their laughter.

Thank the hells.

© copyright work of armysantiny 2024-2025

Networks: @kwritersworld, @kdiarynet, @ultkpopnetwork, @whipped-kpop-creators, @ateezlovenet

@cromernet, @illusionnet

If you’ve made it this far, thank you for reading! Consider reblogging, leaving some feedback or donating to my kofi!

Taglist: @teeztheflag, @jeonqquk, @mikailo666, @blonghoonie, @xavi-in-kpopland

 @marxenash, @honey-andmilktea | Taglist form

[fayes-fics]

Benedict +Regency+ spanking

Thank you our Queen O'Smut

Kinktober: Benedict + Spanking

Kinktober 2023 Masterlist

Paring: Benedict Bridgeton x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+ smut, minors DNI, spanking, vaginal fingering

Author’s note: hi lovely 🫶 thanks for this. My muse settled on this idea immediately, and I hope you enjoy it! 🧡

Your fingers dig into the plush velvet chaise arm, your toes curl against the polished wood floor, hissing as you adjust to the sting, inner thighs damp already, betraying just how alright you are with what is transpiring.

“Do not pretend, darling wife, you are not enjoying this,” Benedict rumbles silkily into your ear as if intuiting where your thoughts have run. The tip of his nose grazes over your temple, and he inhales deeply, “I can smell how aroused you are.” 

You whimper at his words, his large hand rubbing a soothing circle over the dark bloom on your bottom. Then his hand is gone, and the room reverberates with the sound of his palm slapping down onto your flesh yet again as you groan and push back into his hand.

“Do you have any idea how exquisite this painting will be?” he queries, a rich chuckle into your hairline. “Your beautiful naked body, thighs glistening with want, cheeks daubed with my handprints. I could make a fortune selling such a risque painting in the salons of Paris,” he intones, swirling fingertips over your abused skin. “Luckily for you, I am a greedy man, and this one is just for me…” 

With another smarting slap, those are his parting words as he stalks away, rounding behind his easel. You pant lightly and stare at the rich emerald velvet before you as he picks up his paintbrush, wishing he would just throw you onto the chaise and fuck you so hard your teeth rattle. You imploringly whine his name after a few impatient moments, rubbing your thighs together, needy for relief for your pulsing clit.

“Use your words, darling,” he teases, muffled around a paintbrush he clenches between his teeth as he paints large strokes with another.

“Please… I am aching; please fuck me,” you are almost begging now, bum cheeks burning hot as your cunt.

There is a clatter of his palette and footsteps, then a large hard worms between your thighs from behind, an obscene wet sound as he buries two fingers inside you as you cry out at the invasion.

“So needy,” he huffs, bemused, but you don't complain as you hear his other hand fighting to undo his trouser buttons. 

No taglist as these drabbles are so short

[jennifercheckapologist]

All Dressed Up

Synopsis: I'm gonna be so fr. I literally just want to do Abby's makeup and tell her she's the prettiest girl in the world... so that's what this is. :)

Warnings: none... I think. lesbianism? girls playing in makeup? self-indulgence? girl idk, this is for me. reader is a makeup wearer, but otherwise... not really described. lack of editing

Word Count: 468, a drabble really

Palestinian Aid

“Don’t you trust me?”

You weren’t playing fair with your hands holding Abby’s face firmly and your eyes wide and innocent. She knew what you were doing, but that didn’t stop her. She didn’t want to argue when you were here, legs crossed across from her on her bed.

She reached for your wrists when you started to retreat, “Of course I trust you. With my life.”

“I don’t know,” you placed your hands onto her shoulders, “I think you should prove it to me.”

She rolled her eyes but released her grip on you. Instead, she allowed you to lead her into laying against her headboard. Her hands found themselves against your thighs, pressing into the fat there as you leaned over her.

You smiled sweetly at her, “Just a little blush? And maybe some eyeliner?”

She’s quiet. You almost don’t hear her whisper your name, “Blush. Eyeliner.”

You don’t waste any time waiting for her to change her mind. Instead, you clamber out of her bed to find your makeup bag. Your back in her lap as quickly as you left. You put your bag down and grab her face again, “Abby, you’re so pretty.”

“Yeah?” You can feel the warmth of Abby’s skin against yours and see the furious blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah, baby. Prettiest girl in the world.”

“Impossible.”

You use your hands to shake her head. Your voice is syrupy sweet when you respond to her, “Nope. Most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.”

“I don’t know. I’ve got stiff competition,” Abby kisses the palms of your hands to punctuate her statement.

“Don’t do that,” you lean back when she attempts to plant a kiss on your mouth, and she frowns up at you like it doesn’t make her look twice as beautiful. You turn to scavenge through your makeup bag for a brush and a blush palette.

“I’m not doing anything, honey.”

You roll your eyes at her, “Don’t play dumb.”

“I would never,” Abby kisses the corner of your mouth when you turn back to look at her.

You give her a once-over before you pick a blush color for her. You’re gentle as you swipe your brush along her cheekbones. You apply a bit to the tip of her nose and giggle when her nose wrinkles at the sensation.

“Maybe no eyeliner,” you turn back to your bag, “but maybe some glitter?”

“I like glitter,” Abby’s voice is small like she’s embarrassed by her excitement.

You search for the same glitter you’re wearing on your eyes. When you finally find it, you show it off proudly, “We can match.”

Abby grins up at you like you’ve promised her the world, “Yeah? We can match?”

“Always.”

“Yeah,” Abby closes her eyes so you can apply the glitter to her lids, “Always.”

Housekeeping: divider by @saradika ; definitely inspired by this fic from @lizzieisright that I read months ago and am never not thinking about ; as always... black femme lesbian speaking

[tilthedayidice]

Name Icons Part 18

Constance——-----------———🧡✨⭐️———---------———Kathryn

Jackalope——-----------———🧡✨⭐️———---------———Drabble

Eleanor ——-----------———🧡✨⭐️———---------———Peregrine

Calvin ——-----------———🧡✨⭐️———---------——— Ambrose

Jae ——-----------———🧡✨⭐️———---------———Pleiades

[deafknell]

my (belated) entry to day one of the rezero fanweek! enjoy this quick felt doodle and drabble below for the prompt “—Shut up and put on your war face.”

A cold hand presses against Felt’s cheek. Each finger sculpts around the curve of her face, something a touch too familial for her liking. She doesn’t try to push them away, however, not even as a stray thumb rubs away what must be a patch of dirt she hadn’t noticed earlier. While the gesture rings as far too coddling, putting up a fight with the women who’d saved her would only leave a bad taste in her mouth.

It’s not often Felt comes by the red-light district these days. The leery gazes of shopkeepers always set her off, dreading the idea of speaking to the likes of them. If they tried anything, she’d take them down in no time, but she knows well enough to steer clear of the seedier venues round the Royal Capital. With all the big names focusing on looking good, the things brothel owners could potentially get away with outweigh the few good reasons for coming down to the district on most days.

This day, though? Call it sentimentality, or some other gross word for nostalgia.

The moment Felt walks by one of the rundown massage parlors, a masseuse comes running up to her, alerting everybody and their lover to her presence in the area. Several other ladies swarm her too, prostitutes and escorts to cleaners she used to say hello to when Old Man Rom was away. Their fussing is a headache to deal with, as expected, but she’s almost glad for it. Years of distance had left a lot of the names of people who helped feed and protect her with fuzzy faces, yet all it took was a stench of perfume for her to remember most of the cool big sisters she grew up with.

Eguchi, who always took care of any of her scrapes with bow-shaped bandages around her legs. Aoyagi, filling up a container with food two times Felt’s usual portion size for her to share with Old Man Rom. Each and every one of them spoiled her where they could afford to, and that habit had not changed in the time it’s taken for her to return.

Once everybody had stopped fawning over Felt, she’d been dragged over to a private room and shown off to any of the ladies that had missed the masseuse’s announcements. To most of them, she’s the closest they’d gotten to motherhood, taking in a stray for a couple hours of company. It’s the closest she’s gotten to a mother, too, though she’d never admit that to their faces.

Kazuragi’s the one to pitch a makeover, once the initial excitement had settled.Before Felt could say anything, she had left, searching for her palettes and brushes in another room. From what Felt remembers, she’d been the lady who helped train newcomers in etiquette and appearances, something that kept her valuable even as she hit an age where most prostitutes would have been retired or culled. Pushing back on her request isn’t really an option, despite how little Felt cares about sitting still while someone pokes at her face all day.

Looking at the neat arrangement of products Kazuragi had returned with, Felt let out a sigh. “Is all this really necessary…?”

“Yep,” Kazuragi says, popping the ‘p’ sound. “We never got a chance to doll you up before, what with how flighty you were. Now, though…”

Another prostitute dabs some setting powder on Felt’s cheeks. “Indulge us, will you? You already look so pretty. With a little contouring and some blush, nobody will be able to take your eyes off you.”

“That ain’t exactly my kinda thing,” Felt says, sneezing as a brush is pressed to her nose. “Why’d ya even do all this stuff, anyway?”

“Hm?”

Felt crosses her arms. “Like, makeup and stuff. Ain’t it gonna be a pain to clean off after you’re done with—”

“Nope! You’re too young to talk like that,” Kazuragi is quick to smother Felt’s mouth with a hand. “Honestly, now. What happened to that little girl who used to help me with preparing clean clothing for our girls?”

“Nothin’” Felt says, muffled. “Jus’ older now. Not a lil girl.”

“Sure, sure.”

Seconds pass before Kazuragi drops her hand. None of Felt’s makeup is smudged, thankfully. Neither of them say anything as both Kazuragi and the other prostitute get back to work, steady hands tracing the outline of her eyes. More powder is pressed to her eyelids, and she blinks, unused to pressure being put against her eyes.

Kazuragi leans back, assessing her work, and lets out an appreciative hum. Handing Felt a small hand mirror, she pushes a lock of Felt’s hair behind her ear. “Not bad. You’d be a great canvas if you didn’t keep twitching all the time.”

She’s telling the truth, from what Felt can tell. Feels weird to see herself look so put together, but the results aren’t something to complain about. A lot of ladies would pay a fortune for this kind of treatment. “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“About why we wear makeup?” the other prostitute asks. Felt gives her a nod. “It’s nice to separate yourself from clients. They’ll see what you want them to see, while you get to keep your regular appearance to those you care about.”

“It’s a confidence thing, too.” Eguchi adds, having finally decided to join the Felt reunion party again. She ruffles Felt’s hair, leaving her hand on her head for a few seconds longer than needed.

“Facing clients can be unnerving. You never know how they’ll react to you, or what they’ll say about you. Wearing makeup, looking good, dressing well—they’re like spells designed to keep your head high, no matter what others say. We may not be knights or noblemen, but it’s our own form of war paint,” Kazuragi says.

That…makes a lot of sense. Back when that Reinhard bastard was getting torn down by his dad, she’d said something similar to him. Putting on a war face and challenging others is far better than letting those people walk all over you. Fancy appearances may be important for things like stuffy noble events or candidate speeches, but there’s more reason than just sucking up to nobles that people tend to dress up. That’s the battlefield they choose to fight on, just as knights wear their uniform with pride, and prostitutes adorn themselves with silk clothes and makeup.

Maybe that’s what Old Man Rom’s ribbon has been to her, all this time. Her own form of strength from the guy who saved her, war paint that didn’t take ages to apply.

[aimfor-theheart]

if you’re still doing the prompt game would you pls write about whimsy/weird reader x vi?🥹

yess i can do that!! thank you for submitting!

whimsical/weird reader + vi

In your art studio, your mind is elsewhere; not on this earth.

So when Vi finally calls your name over the music and your humming and painting, you startle so hard that you nearly tip over a bottle of open paint.

You whirl around and—your hair is a mess, paint dashed across your skin in a kaleidoscope of colors, and you're wide eyed. Chest heaving a little.

“Am I interrupting?” Vi asks, unable to keep the affection out of her voice.

“Oh! No! Well, yes—but it’s fine,” you sigh, “I probably needed a break anyways.”

“How long have you been at it?” She asks, stepping nearer so she can get a better eyeful of your canvas.

You hum, moving to set your palette and brush down on an overfilled counter top. “I think I started when it was dark out.”

Vi cocks her head, “It’s the afternoon—did you get up really early?”

Your glasses slip down the bridge of your nose in a terribly adorable way, “Hm, no. I never went to bed.”

“You’ve been up all night?!”

“I guess—but the moon was so pretty, I couldn’t fathom sleeping.” You respond wistfully, adjusting your glasses, now stained at the bridge with blue because of your fingertips.

You finally yawn and stretch a little, the movement distinctly feline to Vi’s eyes. Your lack of sleep must be catching up with you. Vi can’t help but find it all terribly endearing—

“Come on, pidge,” She starts, the old nickname rolling off her tongue—Vander used to call you pidge, or pigeon, when you were young. Something about being like a little bird on the line, fluttering about, singing and squawking. “Why don’t we get you some food? Maybe a nap.”

Vi corrals you into her arms and you don’t fight her. In fact, you drop your head onto her collarbones, “I guess. You’ll nap with me?”

Vi swipes at your cheek, cleaning away some red paint. She can’t help but smile fondly as she leads you out of your art studio, “I’ll nap with you, sweetheart. Will you sleep with me tonight, though? Can’t have you up all night again—“

“Hm, maybe. Depends how pretty the sky is.”

Vi can’t help but laugh even as she thinks, it can’t nearly be as pretty as you.

Send me a trope/genre + a character and I’ll write a drabble!

[mtchee]

"What can I do for you?"

"Ah, take a seat over here, please." "We have a wide range of teas and treats, I'm sure there's somethig that suits your palette."

↳ @ mtchee ༉‧₊ do not repost, plagarize, or translate, ai use prohibited ➻ main (reblogs/interacts) ➻ cw: writing, nsfw, sfw, x reader, self indulgent, selfships

◤──•~❉᯽❉~•──◥

➺ rules ➺ menu (masterlist) ➺ selfships nav tags: ۵ mtchee's library (all writings) ۵ mtchee's tea and story house (every post) ۵ mtchee thoughts (interacts/random) ۵ mtchee chilli brew (nsfw/mdni) ۵ mtchee notes (blog updates) ۵ mtchee writes (drabbles) ۵ mtchee life (selfship delulu)

Welcome, thanks for stopping by! I go by the pen-name mtchee, though feel free to call me as you like. I am a 19 y/o writer-for-fun and aspiring editor and publisher currently furthering my studies and skills in University.

As such, my priorities lay amidst my studies with fanfiction being an escape and much loved reprieve. Updates will be unpredictable, but (hopefully) not scarce.

Typically, my writing centres around female readers, however, I am and have been working on explanding my audience and increasing my writing to include gender neutral, amab, male, and afab readers. I do my utmost to leave the protagonst as amiguous as possible, though certain stories may be centred towards a more particular demographic (whereby from requests or not), in which will be tagged and warned as such.

This blog is full of my writing and some self indulgent delulu stories, as such, I'm not as active on here unless I'm posting. If you want to chat, you'll reach me easier on my main.

A few crumbs about me...

INFJ-T My favourite colour is green~ I am an Australia based Filippino mix! I'm a hard worker! But very lazy if not motivated... Casual Gamer Cold sweet drinks are my vice SVT has me broke

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While everyone is welcome and I strive to write something suitable for everyone, my writings will not be tailored to you specifically. If I am uncomfortable with writing something, I am not required to put myself out of my comfort zone for your entertainment. On that note, if I write something to your distaste, block and/or scroll. Everything I write will be tagged accordingly.

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[blessingera]

making pjsk drabble

err... actually this is my tkri fanfiction's archive that i wrote in indonesian but let's just make this bromance drabble so no ship tag needed (ritk/tkri free!!). sorry for broken english but hope you enjoy it!

Cutlery

Tsukasa Tenma | Rui Kamishiro @blessingera - 244 Words Project SEKAI: Colorful Stage! © SEGA/Colorful Palette

He remembered well how Tsukasa gave him the pair of yellow and purple spoons and forks. He couldn't possibly forget a word his friend said. In fact, just remembering that, he wanted to drown her beautiful face; hoping no one could catch him in his disheveled state.

Tsukasa was really a very good person, for him.

“Rui,” he remembered very well when Tsukasa called his name loudly.

“What is that, Tsukasa-kun?”

“For you.”

“For me?”

Of course, he couldn't forget how stunned he was when he saw Tsukasa give him a box containing a set of cutlery.

“I don't want you to skip your lunch without bringing a lunch box. I hope that once you have this, you'll change your mind about bringing it to school.”

Not only that. He also remembered how excited that “star” creature was to show off the cutlery set in the same color as the one he gave to Rui.

“You see, Rui? We have the same color of our cutlery now! As a sign of our friendship, let's consider that the yellow one is me, and the purple one is you. I want us to have lunch together with these cutlery!”

Ah, he couldn't.

Rui couldn't feel like this.

He felt like he wanted to roar as loud as he could. Not wailing out of sadness, but….

… he had already melted. Only with a package of that “star” creature's kindness.

Ah, let him feel this for a moment….

[ END ]

[hiding-from-reality-56]

You Could be My Second-Best

I wrote this in 20 minutes while procrastinating working on my main WIP,,, Have some angsty Dumomoto with past McYam, as a treat!

Rated Mature for sexual content, no graphic depictions are included however.

Drabble begins below the cut!

He misses Connor.  Kailer chastizes himself for thinking about his past situationship while he’s actively riding Dumo, whose ridiculously large hands rest on his hips, his thumbs finding the edges of Kailer’s belly button, digging in gently on each downstroke. He’s done everything in his power to get over his two year ‘fling,’ if one might call it that, going so far as to ‘accidentally’ grab the wrong jersey for practice, to jokingly come up with a ship name between him and Brian. It had set the wheels in motion for whatever this is. The sex is great, Kailer has to admit. Brian definitely knows what he’s doing. He can also cook, like, really cook, and his vast knowledge of wine hasn’t failed Kailer yet. He’s a genuinely great guy, his eyes light up when discussing his interests, his quiet presence in the locker room is grounding and steady. And let’s not get Kailer started on those ridiculous cheekbones. But he’s no Connor, with his goofy little smile, his genuine modesty despite being the best player in the world, his stupid fucking yellow jock shorts which Kailer had affectionately called ‘dick curtains,’ his repulsive socks, and his occasionally awkward sense of style. In many ways, Brian is the polar opposite of Connor; smooth, sophisticated, laid-back, with a refined palette and a passion for wines, cheeses, and everything gourmet.  But there’s something in his heart that aches whenever he gets yet another notification from Bouch, with another link to an article about another milestone, another record from his old teammates. Most are Connor’s, as one might imagine.  If only Kailer had just pushed through his injuries a little better, scored a little more, gained a little more weight in the offseason; then maybe, maybe he could’ve stayed. He can feel the tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, silently begs them to go away, not right now, not when he’s so close- Kailer breaks.

I also posted it on Ao3 if you wanted to go give it some love <3