#I might do drabbles stuff idk

[taki-yaki]

Prompt: Tav that's somehow acquainted with Drizzt. I don't know where his situation fits in the BG3 timeline, so I don't know if Tav being Drizzt's daughter's friend or classmate would make sense. Maybe a neighbor, or the apprentice of one of his party members? I honestly just want to see Astarion fangirl over meeting someone who has close ties to Drizzt Do'Urden.

Briennelle Zaharina (Drizzt’s daughter) would be around the age of 4 during the events of Baldurs gate 3. But an apprentice adventurer who teamed with Drizzt would work.

Astarion x Drizzt Apprentice Tav

As an Elf, you were aware of how long your kind lived for, even outliving many other races in kind. Instead of being stuck inside the walls of Evereska, you longed to venture beyond them. Travelling from town to city, helping with any problems that plague the area. Until you arrive at Baldur’s Gate meeting the famous Drizzt the drow, offering to become his apprentice just for the time he is within the city on his quest. 

Although he was hesitant at first to accept, he agreed after seeing your innate magic abilities in combat. 

Despite your time as his temporary pupil only being short through the eyes of normal elves, the experience to you felt as if it was a main part of your long life.

After your encounter with the famous drow, you would continue your travels across the sword's coast, always returning to the gate to reminisce upon the skills that your mentor taught you. However, during one of these trips to the city, you were abducted by the mind flayers, soon having a tadpole forced inside your head.

During one of these first few nights with your new companions, Wyll was exchanging stories around the campfire of his travels as the blade of Avernus, he would bid you to tell tales of your travels throughout the sword coast, with nearly everyone's eyes on you, except for a pale elf who was pretending to read a book to act disinterested, despite his ears seemingly twitching whenever someone blabbed about others.

As you told your tale of your ventures in Baldur’s Gate, you offhandedly mentioned how you met the notorious drow when you noticed Astarion fully snapping his attention towards you, seemly engrossed for a moment of the comment you made before swaying his eyes towards the book once again.

The next few nights would consist of you telling a story or two about Drizzt casually to Karlach or Wyll with Astarion occasionally dismissing some of your tales seeing them as nothing but farfetched stories at first, “Yes darling, and I’m a princess of house Nightstar and married to a tarrasque named Johnathan, anything else you have to say?”.

However as the tales would start to sound more believable, he would start to inquire into them, asking questions such as what was Drizzt’s eye colour and other minutiae details, which would quickly devolve into an argument at camp about whether the drow’s eye colour was a lavender hue or aquamarine or other minor details.

During another late-night argument once again about Drizzt, Karlach spoke aloud “Fangs if I didn’t know any better I��d say that you’re a fan of Drizzt”, his mouth quickly shut upon hearing Karlachs words, “As if I would fawn over such a thing, dear that is for children, I’m only correcting your ‘mistakes is all”, before he attempted to smoothly retreat towards his tent for the night.

The next night, the arguments between you seemed to have ceased, with you both only acknowledging each other through silent glances across the camp. It isn’t until you confront him, once everyone else has gone to sleep for the night, that he attempts to withdraw to his tent once again, apologising for arguing over such trivial things, but it isn’t until he interrupts you with a soft sigh before stating 

“I- I never said I disliked your fables, my dear”

“When I was trapped under Cazadors thumb, I would daydream of the drow one day coming to save me from his hell, a revolution of sorts against him.” turning to avoid your line of sight, uttering in a hushed whisper “But that never happened”.

“You know, I’m not your exact ‘Drizzt’ type, but I promise, I’ll kill your vile master, I’m certain Drizzt wouldn’t have stood for such a thing as do I.”

As he looks down upon you, in silence, he lets out a little chuckle, before offering an outstretched hand towards you.

“You know, It would be nice not to have to rely on you as my great protector, but... well, I do appreciate the thought.”

Raising your head to meet him face to face, reaching out to clasp his hand softly. 

Throughout the rest of that night, the two of you spend the rest of the night in long discussions about your fondness for the legendary drow.

It isn’t until you arrive at the city that the two of you discuss Drizzt's latest adventures that were published within the new books. Reading the book together, actively discussing each tale that was told and just for a moment, true peace was found between you both, despite all the horrors you’ve been through with the absolute.

[kagaintheskywithdiamonds]

every night a complex but completely unwritten fanfic plays in my head and increasingly lately I've been like "you know I have this thing SO fleshed out I should write it for real. man I keep thinking of these awesome sentences, they would be such raw-ass lines. tomorrow I should actually try writing some of it"

and then I don't do that

[quirkle2]

who wants zombie au writing. don't answer that ur getting it anyway (1.6k words)

His shoes knock against the old flooring of the house, wood creaking under rubber soles that slide over the woodgrain. He drags them a bit, lifts his limbs up no more than he strictly has to, and they lead him to the nearest sittable surface.

The couch is old and dusty and has likely gone untouched for months, much like everything else nowadays, so he watches the thin cloud of dust billow off the cushions largely with disinterest. He collapses into the fabric heavily, feels the whole thing scoot back an inch and hit the wall behind him. The sound echoes, carried by lifeless rooms, while he unceremoniously drops his backpack to the floor by his feet.

The breath he lets out is slow and methodical and born of pent up muscles, aimed at the ceiling where he rests his neck against the back of the couch and relaxes every limb one by one. It’s a process he forces himself through, if only to rid the constant ache beneath his skin.

Slow, sweeping footsteps meander around the room in front of him, and Ritsu angles his gaze down from his craned back position to look at his brother. He wanders, like he so often does—seemingly aimless, but there’s something procedural about it that he’s convinced he just hasn’t figured out yet.

Shigeo’s empty eyes crawl along the hearth of the fireplace, explosions of ash sprayed out across the red brick. His head tilts up to trace his attention around the angular lines of the television, hung on the wall and screen grey with dust. He flits back and forth between the roundness of the bricked mantle and the sharp edges of the screen, like he’s taking notes.

Shigeo paws the television. Four lines of muck are cleared. The zombie blinks, paws at it again with dusty, curious fingers. Ritsu watches him make a mess of the television screen in silence, blinking tiredly.

He almost closes his eyes, but he fights against the urge and moves his fingers down his lap to reach for his bag. His middle hooks around the loop at the top and he lugs it up and into his lap, where he unzips it and peers into the shadowy contents.

Ritsu fishes out the water bottles. He finds the one with the messy R scribbled along the cap in sharpie and takes a big swig of it. It’s warm going down, constantly insulated in a bag of old, sweaty clothes. He feels like he can taste the odor in it, but it clears the grain in his throat from stomping all over dirt roads today, so he’s still grateful.

He holds out the one labeled S to Shigeo. “Thirsty?”

Shigeo looks at him from where he’s crouched down to the floor now, inspecting the soot along the hearth. Unfortunately, he sees handprints in the black already, and when his brother reaches a hand out to take it, his palm is covered in soot.

He lets him have his fun and settles his own bottle back in the mess of tangled clothes and rolls of bandages. Ritsu rakes his fingers through their stock with no real purpose—he knows exactly what’s in here, and none of it is useful.

They’d been searching all day; Ritsu doesn’t really know how far they’d walked, but it had to be a lot of miles. In and out of stores, up and down empty houses, weaving between warehouses—they didn’t really stop for a break. Not when Ritsu can hear Shigeo’s stomach from here and he himself has shaking hands. They can’t afford a break.

Nothing, though. Not a single goddamn thing worth taking. A settlement must have come through here long ago and swept the highway. They’re in the countryside, where houses are spaced out acres from each other and there’s entire cow pastures between properties. And yet every house they’d seen and entered provided nothing.

Ritsu stares into the negative space in his bag where there should be supplies. His stomach cramps and if he smells another whiff of that godawful sweaty, bloody sweatshirt he still carries, he’s going to throw up bile.

He leans away from the open pouch, eyes wandering to his brother who draws… something into the soot of the hearth. His water bottle sits on the floor, abandoned and still unscrewed. Ritsu leans forward with great effort and a grunt, leaning over his bag to grab at the top of it.

It takes him two tries to get Shigeo’s attention, and one more for an answer on where the cap is. It’s then placed in his palm, covered in soot and also saliva. Ritsu swallows down the nausea that rolls up his throat and wipes it off with his frankly already disgusting sleeve, and screws it back on.

He leans back again, succumbing to the urge to let his eyes rest, and he listens to the very subtle swipe of his brother’s hands across brick. There’s birds outside, chirping, and even though it’s still very much a common occurrence, Ritsu cannot help but feel nostalgic about it.

If he ignores the awful hum of silence, and the distinct lack of an electric thrum throughout the walls, and the fact that this is a stranger’s couch and not his, he can almost imagine normalcy. He can almost say this feels like those quiet moments after school, when he settles on the couch and scrolls through his phone in a house that only holds him and his brother because their parents simply aren’t home yet.

He can almost hear the creak of wood from Shigeo walking around his room upstairs. He can almost tap his fingers on the couch cushions to the pattern of his brother making his way down the steps. He can almost hear the fridge opening, and the sound of milk being poured into glass.

Almost. But Ritsu listens to sharp silence instead, and he tries not to think too hard.

He drifts for a while, feels himself truly sink into the couch and let the cushions claim him, and he thinks about nothings because if he doesn’t, then he’ll lose it. He carefully sifts through the nothingness of his mind, through the passing thoughts that have no bearing, and he focuses on that, on the lack of substance. His head is too full of things that have too much substance.

He misses boredom. He tells himself he misses boredom—the complete insubstantiality of it—because if he lets himself think of what he really misses, it’ll drive him insane.

The cushions move, and Ritsu peels his eyes open and lets himself get pulled from liminal mindspace. The cotton in his head recedes, and he blinks, and then he’s swiveling his head to look at his brother who sits in the cushion right next to him.

His hands and the cuffs of his hoodie are smothered in black. Shigeo sits hunched, gaze still wandering even when there’s not much decoration in this house to look at. He studies the off-white walls, the chips in the paint, the holes drilled in where there maybe used to be photos hung.

Ritsu gazes at him quietly, chest instinctively rising and falling to match his brother’s rhythm. He watches the expansion there, under his hoodie, in the subtlety of the folds and the way they warp over the movement. It’s slightly quicker than what he’s used to, but Ritsu knows his brother’s heart rate is much slower. He’s felt it before. He’s listened to it before, with his ear against a chest.

Ritsu’s attention moves to his eyes, and the heavy bags underneath them, and the paleness of his pupils and the ghostlight of him underneath that. He stares into them, looks for stray, familiar thoughts that might enter his head. Looks for old memories that might shine through in the form of recognition when he sees furniture layouts, and candy wrappers, and ads for soda.

Ritsu looks for it all the time, that glint of familiarity. And he finds it, sometimes. And really, he thinks that’s keeping him going more than food ever will.

Shigeo turns his head, and looks at him. Sometimes, when his brother looks at him, there’s not much there. No substance, no anything. And Ritsu finds it a bit evil that he craves silence in his own head, and yet noise in Shigeo’s, and often times it is the other way around.

His brother looks at him now, though, with that comforting recognition. That growth of the pupils, that softening of the hard edges of his face where unknown stressors have gotten to him. Ritsu wonders what zombies get stressed out. He figures it’s the same deal with humans, considering they’re largely alike.

Ritsu wonders if Shigeo knows he’s sick. He wishes he could ask him. He wishes for a lot of things. Silence in his own head is one of them.

Ritsu swivels his head away and stares at the ceiling, if only to force the thoughts to pause. He studies the popcorn ridges above them, traces the peaks with his gaze. It calms him, gives him something to focus on. He looks for patterns in the shadows they make.

Shigeo shifts next to him. And then he shimmies down, settles into the cushions, and plops his head right down on Ritsu’s shoulder.

Static roars in his mind and his heart stammers. Ritsu swallows the lump in his throat but that just makes it bigger, so he clamps his mouth shut and breathes carefully through his nose.

The tears cut through the grime on his face. He plops his own head down against his brother’s, and lives in the noise.

[softgirlstudio]

hiii sorry i've neglected this sideblog....i might delete it and just start posting all my writing on my main....idk yet we'll see !!!!

[microwavetoaster-selfships]

Little drabble for today, since technically today(or perhaps yesterday?) Was the day I had my little...moment of. Wow it would be so funny if I got engaged with Finn and of course it happens to be cliche a few days before Valentine's Day. Anniversary. I know I don't really post my writing a lot and keep it more private but that's mostly just cause it's harder for me to write things that aren't very emotionally incorporated, if that makes any sense? With drawing I can do a little cute doodle, draw some hearts around it, and that's it, a nice simple little thingy. But with my writing it is normally a lot more extensive, even if whatever I'm writing is just fluffy stuff. And. Not to mention. A lot of people normally brush over drawings after like five reasonable seconds, but with writing it isn't entirely something that can be consumed so quickly. But! I yap a lot on here anyway.

I don't thinkkkkkk this needs any content warnings? I tried to not go into detail about the actual extent of the woes I experienced and just said enough to get it out of my system, but everything else is true and accurate���� it gets super sappy fluffy at the end because it is me we are talking about here, so of course it does. I did a shorter Speedrun version of my proofreading, so hopefully it has a nice flow to it!

--------

"Yes, but I want to actually do SOMETHING for today, I mean, something nice at least. It is a special day, we should do something.. special for it!" Kane reasoned, still in bed and curled up to a pillow. He cautiously rolled over onto his back, and his expression twitched like he had winced. He kept the pillow in his arms and loosely hugged it against himself.

"Kane, I'm pretty sure I just watched you die, I'm not going to let you expend what little energy you have left that needs to go to resting." Finn sighed, upset, sitting carefully at the edge of the bed. He certainly wasn't upset at Kane, more so the situation; and perhaps what little he could do- or have done- to remedy it, to no fault of his own, of course. Or anyone's, really.

Considering that Kane wasn't always that keen on bigger events anyway, his prying for one was a bit ironic. But just because he didn't like going out to restaurants or typical romantic events that involved eating out in public or resulted in lots of noises going on like at restaurants, it didn't mean that Finn didn't like those things. And, perhaps, Kane felt a little guilty inside, because he had been out of commission for most of the day, so anything that they could've done couldn't happen.

"It's not like I didn't know this might happen." Finn said gently, turning a little so he could look at Kane when he said it.

Kane sighed a little, almost in a pouting manner, and glanced at Finn to meet his gaze for a moment, "I mean, I know that we both knew it was going to happen, cause the prediction and all- and I could feel it- but..."

"But I'm feeling better now and-"

"Rest." Finn interrupted firmly.

Kane groaned in response, why must he need rest and recovery. Why must he be aware of how truthfully exhausted and sore he felt. "Okay, well I wasn't dying, I was just-"

"You were withering in pain, and trying to tug out your own hair so you could feel something else, you-"

"Okay, okay, but worse case scenario you could've just- I mean we live in England, all the houses and buildings are brick- you could've just bonked me out on the head and then drivin me off to the ER or like, urgent care or something."

Ah, and Kane was met with the look of a man who sometimes forgot what country people grow up to be. A look laced with concern because it was his partner he was looking at, but there was still a slight hint of "Fuck? No!" Whether Kane's country roots lying in America added to this was a different story.

"Er- euhm- Whatever the uh. Thing is called the-..." Kane looks around the room as he racks his brain for it, "The NHS! Yes! Whatever those.. they have like those walk-in urgent rooms, right? Like buildings?"

Finn looked like he wanted to respond with several things like "The NHS wait time isn't worth it" and "The day I put you out of your misery like some animal even if it is to temporarily knock you unconscious is the day I [redacted]" but with as ruffled and exhausted as Kane still appeared, he wasn't going to have the man waste his breath on discussing the complexities of the NHS and every other healthcare system, or whatever else was going through his mind. Instead, he ever so gently nudged Kane over closer to the middle of the bed so he could lay down next to him. He understood that going from forever sleeping on a bed that was hardly bigger than him to the luxuries of a bed that was probably a bit bigger than your dining table was something for Kane to adjust to, but it still drove him mad that Kane, for some reason, slept right at the edge of the bed. Even if he has yet to actually fall off of it.

And Kane couldn't help but crack out a grin over it, he spent a lot of time in bed so there was hardly a moment where Finn wasn't wordlessly gently shuffling him closer to the center of the bed.

"But we aught to do at least something, right? Today isn't just any other day today- not to me at least- I want to at least mark it like that by doing something special. Even if it is something small."

As Finn stretched out and laid down net to Kane, he let out a long exhale, "And you call me foolish?" Finn mused, and with as much little movement as possible he rolled over so he could face Kane and gingerly wrap an arm around the other man, tucking it under the pillow that Kane was still holding closely to himself. He was sure Kane was still feeling sore, so he treated every movement and touch he did like he was trying to do a waltz in a minefield.

Kane cocked an eyebrow, "I do call you foolish. Not that I'm any less foolish- if not more." "You certainly are," Finn's voice turned to a mumble as he tried to nuzzle himself infinitely and impossibly closer to Kane.

"And would you like to elaborate on that?" Kane asked, with a faint grin. He was feeling far more amused that he was able to express himself at the moment.

"The whole point of the day is just to spend it however we'd like, and I don't care how we spend it, I just want to spend it with you."

This was one of the moments were Kane was glad that Finn had his face buried up against him, because even if Finn could feel Kane hold his breath, it at least still spared Kane a little dignity because Finn would miss seeing his eyebrows furrow and the corners of his mouth twist and maybe his eyes watered up just a little as well. "Yeah, but you spent the day like a medieval doctor watching a patient and not being able to do anything about it but sedate them."

Finn frowned a little, but he would've frowned regardless of what day it happened on because it was still something that happened in the first place.

Kane let go of the pillow with one of his arms, and then decided to forfeit the pillow entirely altogether and shift his position so he was laying more towards Finn now. He didn't really have much left to say.

"I just want to enjoy the day with you, Kane." Finn murmured, the weight of affection in his voice was undoubtable.

Kane was quiet for a moment, his eyebrows were still furrowed, "I just want you to know that you are special," he responded, and if his sentence had been any longer his voice might've croaked.

Finn smiled, and tried to be as gentle as he could as he softly tugged Kane ever so slightly more closer to him, "I know that you think I'm special." Again, Kane took a moment before he responded. His mind was having trouble arguing with someone who seemed to radiate their love out of their body.

"You do?" Kane asked. Of course he would want Finn to feel special.

"This is where I get to use one of your own sayings against you," Finn said, starting to grin, "You always say that actions speak louder than words, don't you?"

As much as Kane loved that saying and thought it to be true, it bugged him a little that it sounded like something you would find spelled out as the lesson in the back of a book or TV show for children. Which perhaps was exactly where he had gotten it from.

"I do say that. And at least in my experience I've found it to be relatively true, give or take some case scenario exceptions; as with anything there's exceptions."

"Well I think it is plenty special that I get to do this with you," Finn gave Kane the lightest squeeze possible in his arms, "And you tell me in plenty of different ways all of the time how you feel about me." Kane knew that he did that, but part of him almost wanted to respond with "I do?" because it wasn't the usual for someone to be able to understand the funny language that he seemed to speak.

Kane looked at the ceiling for a little while, soaking in the words and the moment. Finn seemed quite content and peaceful with things right now- which is what Kane wanted. Truthfully, in an ideal scenario Kane would've spent the day treating Finn like he was some royalty- not that he didn't have tomorrow to do that, anyway.

"I like you, Finn," Kane said.

"I like you too, Kane." Just for a few moments Finn had closed his eyes. Then again, no one ever goes to close their eyes for just a few moments and it turns out that way.

No, maybe today wasn't and couldn't be spent as a day for a big grand gesture and display of love and affection, perhaps that was something that was going to be saved for another time, but there was still just as much love to be felt in getting consumed by the peaceful tranquility that came with not having anything but a nice warm and safe home, and being willingly boxed up in a room with someone literally, and figuratively, wrapped up around you.

[thaliagrayce]

looking @ the jasico bingo challenge..... im not in a jasico mood but jasico nation is so nice to write for........ its been so long since ive written them.....

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Can I see your d*ck? (drabble)

pairing: lee felix x afab!reader

synopsis: you're lounging on your bed with your best friend peacefully until an intrusive thought wins over.

wc: 1.0k

warnings: lots of dirty talk, making out, fingering

a/n: idk what this is, i feel unhinged and not inspired to write today so this might suck but thanks @jazz-the-writer 😏💜 (side not: y'all his hands might be small by some standard that i'm not aware of but to me they're big cause i am small and that is hot, mkay)

Your best friend is leaning on your pillow looking all pretty and alluring and you can't help your thoughts.

Or your mouth.

"Can I see your dick?" it rolls off your tongue kind of accidentally. Felix coughs, choking on air as he looks up from his phone.

"Excuse me?" he looks at you in disbelief and your cheeks warm up.

"Your dick. I want to see it."

You can't really back out now.

"Um... you can't just ask stuff like that?" his eyebrow is raised, but his cheeks become rosy too.

"Why not? Do I need to get you drunk first?" you smirk.

"N-no, just... Why would you ask that?" he chuckles nervously.

"Well, I've never seen one. Not in real life, at least." you say and he smirks suddenly.

"Where else have you seen a dick?" he sits up and so do you.

"Porn, duh." you roll your eyes.

"What kind of porn?" he leans in closer and you whine, rolling your eyes again.

"Don't change the subject! Will you let me see it?"

"No, I will not show you my dick, y/n. Be for real." he laughs, shoving you playfully.

"You're totally not fun." you pout, crossing your arms over your chest.

Felix smirks to himself as he looks away from you. His heart hammers against his ribs as he bites on his lip and considers teasing you.

"How about this?" he turns around to look at you again. "I wanna see yours too."

"Hate to disappoint you Lixie but I don't have a dick." you joke and his face becomes as red as a tomato.

"I meant your... you know." he looks away.

"My what? Say it." you lean in closer and he visibly shivers.

"Y-your... pussy?" he whispers and you laugh.

"Okay." you shrug and he gasps, thinking you'd surely back out after that request.

"You're for real?" he gulps.

"Mhm." you nod, your heart skipping a beat in excitement but Felix struggles.

"I mean... it's not... it's not hard yet, you know."

"Can I help with that?" you inch closer to your best friend. And god, he is so beautiful.

"We could make out?" he suggests and you agree immediately because who wouldn't want to kiss those lips?

The world stops as you lean in, the sounds of your breathing seem so loud in the tiny gap between you and Felix. The gap is soon closed as your lips press together in a sweet, awkward kiss.

The kiss slowly escalates into something more desperate and raw, as your hands start wandering on each other's bodies. Somehow, you end up under him as he keeps kissing your face and neck.

"Your hands are so pretty." you say breathlessly as you play with Felix's hand.

"They are?" he asks, a little surprised at your compliment.

"Mhm. And your fingers are perfect." you bring his hand closer to your face, his fingertips on your lips. Felix gasps when your tongue darts out to lick at his fingertips.

"Y/n..." his voice breaks as you take his middle finger in and start sucking on it.

"Fuck." Felix curses, his eyes darkening as he observes you. You can feel his dick twitching against your thigh and you clench around nothing.

"Please, touch me Lixie." you whine when you take his finger out of your mouth.

"Where, sweetheart?" he smirks at your eagerness and you nearly combust at the nickname.

Instead of answering, you start pulling your pants down and he quickly stops you.

"Are you sure?" he asks in the last moment of clarity.

"Yes." you say and he nods, helping you get rid of your pants and underwear.

"Oh." he licks his lips at the sight of you all wet and desperate for him.

"Please." you whine and a deep chuckle escapes his lips.

"I got you, baby." he soothes you as his hands run up your thighs a few times, coming up to spread your pussy so he can take a good look at it.

You whimper, shutting your eyes tight. Felix chuckles again, his thumb pressing against your sensitive clit in circles.

You gasp, eyes snapping open as they meet his darkened ones.

"If you've never seen a dick, that must mean you're a virgin?" Felix asks quietly.

"N-no... Well, yes. I mean I did this before but never went further." you confess and he smirks.

His fingers dip between your folds, gathering your arousal before paying attention to your clit again as he speeds up, making you whimper.

"W-why are you smirking like that?" you moan out as he flicks your clit, driving you absolutely insane already.

"I know you wanna see my dick. But I wanna make sure this little pussy can take my fingers first."

"Felix!" you whine at the dirty talk, the effect of his words amplified by his deep voice and the movement on your clit.

If you weren't at his mercy you'd probably laugh at your best friend for talking like that.

"Yeah baby? You want that?"

"P-please!" you're falling apart, your pussy clenching around nothing again.

"As you wish." Felix whispers and slowly starts pushing his middle finger in.

"L-Lixie." you moan, grabbing at his wrist as he fills you up.

"You're so tight, sweetheart. I don't think you'll be seeing my dick so soon."

"N-no, please, I wanna see it!" you cry out as he pushes in completely, slowly fucking you with his finger.

"If you manage to take three of my fingers, maybe I'll let you." he leans down to whisper in your ear, making you whine.

"You're mean." you pout, knowing damn well you're nowhere near ready to take him.

"I'm just looking out for you." he keeps smirking as he starts pumping his finger faster, making you more wet with every thrust.

You want to smack him for being so sly but his thumb starts working on your clit and you completely fall apart, moaning his name and gripping at the sheets as Felix brings you to ecstasy easily.

"Only one finger got you falling apart like this, hm?" he mocks as he fucks you through your high.

"You wanna see what two get me like?" you smirk at him and he laughs a little.

"I hope you know what you got yourself into, sweetheart."

~ part 2

taglist: @moonchild9350 @janepg @velvetmoonlght @hwanghyunjinismybae @jehhskz @porangporangmeong @laylasbunbunny @laughatdanger @jeonginslefthand @sapphirewaves @s3ungm1nxxl0ve @painterhyunjin @moon-ttokki-x @saintcosette @ooshyana @frehyun @scarlet789 @skzdust @schniti-is-in-the-house @eastjonowhere @sona1800 @channiesrightasscheek @justwonder113 @yvettemint @inaribu00 @httpdwaekki @possum-playground @ria-april @yn-x-them @mariahxrrera @0omillo0 @halfwinterhalfuniverse @cooldeermagazine @delulkpopstan143 @todorokiskitten @compersian @azxulskz @stayp1eceposts

[martarkiraayanaminewaccount]

my drabble. From an anime movie, "Kai Doh Maru". Written by me in 2016. Linking here for myself for my own nostalgia's sake.

[twstedfreak]

Not Even the Gods Can Keep Me from You — g. satoru

Ꮺ ⋮ pairing — odysseus!gojo satoru x fem!reader [greek au]

Ꮺ ⋮ synopsis — ❝ you were never supposed to fall for the prince of ithaca—especially not when war was on the horizon and the gods had already written tragedy in the stars. but you did. and any now, years have passed, the sea has swallowed his name, and you're left raising his son in a kingdom that’s slowly forgetting him. across cursed islands and shattered battlegrounds, gojo satoru is fighting his way back to you—but after all this time, will love be enough to bring him home? ❞

Ꮺ ⋮ c&w — 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—kinda ooc, kinda slowburn too, war, violence, death, grief, emotional manipulation, long chapters(?), separation, implied infidelity in the context of war and distance, strong language, betrayal, intense emotional conflict, Satoru’s inner turmoil and struggles with guilt, longing, and regret. tags might be added along the making of this Ꮺ ⋮ notes — it’s finally here… slowly but surely, i’m going to start uploading this series I’ve been working on for what feels like forever. seriously, the on-and-off relationship i’ve had with this story and the thought process behind it? Yeah, it’s been a ride. you wouldn’t believe half the stuff that went into it (just kidding, maybe you would). anyway, i’ll be posting the first chapter soon! just tweaking a few things here and there. upload times might be a bit inconsistent, as well as expect (ig)slow updates, idk it really does depend on my mood, so please bear with me while I get everything in order. thanks for sticking with me, y'all!! if you want to be added to the taglist, make sure to comment before i close it! i’m currently sorting out my tumblr theme (you know, the usual chaos of customization), but i’ll be back to posting soon. thanks so much for your patience and support, can’t wait to get this rolling! teaser post here! Ꮺ ⋮ status — new & ongoing

masterlist | drabble | headcanon ˚ 　 ⤹ 　 ❝ ©twstedfreak

TABLE OF CONTENT . . . . !!

PROLOGUE — BEFORE THE STORM The moment the thread was spun

01 | The Prince & the Spartan  ⤷ A diplomatic visit. A shared glance. Their world begins to shift. 02 | The Lasting Days  ⤷ He falls fast. She builds walls. But the heart doesn't always obey. 03 | The Archer in the Crowd  ⤷ A masked suitor. A silent promise. A choice she never saw coming. 04 | Athena’s Watchful Eyes  ⤷ Athena watches a child become a man—driven by love, tested by fate. 05 | The Ninth Dawn  ⤷ Nine days. One child. One goodbye. Neither ready to let go.

MORE TO BE ADDED..... !!

Ꮺ ⋮ reminder — inspired by epic the musical by jorge rivera herrans. The banner and divider design is created by me. Please do not use, alter, or modify the template/design without permission. Do not steal, modify, tweak, translate, or plagiarize anything from my blog. Do not use / copy my template or theme. Respect my work, love u guys. 🚨

Ꮺ ⋮ TAGLIST OPEN comment to be added to the official list —

@sims-4lifers. @spiritkittten. @crystal-freak24. @not-aya. @n1vi. @kinkyvitch. @twistedbitcc. @abeitriz. @sims-4lifers. @artist1936. @ratedrrrr. @barbare2. @sheep-infog. @tojideckmuncher. @midnightlunasworld. @lovely-maryj. @the-queen-yn. @dairyfaerie. @qnqwr @poopooindamouf. @theanaoevre. @blueemochii. @tinykryptonitefairy. @thesimppotato11. @kyungjunnies. @tamishadawn. @corvid007. @linaaeatsfamilies. @borntoexplore11-blog. @dainslumi. @rjreins. @perffff0. @sillysushi. @bluepanda08. @joyfulweaselbananapanda. @crsdf4everr. @lem-hhn. @leave-rae-alone.

— ©twstedfreak

[daenysx]

Maybe some James potter smut since it’s his birthday? (Idk if it’s still his bday where you are but whatever)

happy birthday to the loveliest boy ever ♡

-send me drabble requests!

james potter x fem!reader, smut

James tells you he's proud of you all the time.

Every time he does it, his words leave a gentle rush of waves in your stomach. Something crawling slowly, like he's gonna ruin you. He looks at you with widened eyes, a small smile curled up on his lips, and you are dying to kiss him.

He whispers it, the first time in three days, and your fingers on the keyboard slow down. His voice sends shivers down your spine and it's a delicious feeling how he can make your mind go blank with only a few words. You press your cheek on your shoulder, a lazy attempt to get back to your senses. James takes the opportunity to kiss your exposed neck.

"Jamie," you murmur. He knows what he's doing, never clueless when it comes to you. "I have to finish this."

"You've got an entire night ahead of you, angel," he mumbles. "Can I maybe have some of your attention?"

Fuck him for being so sweet. He plays his part well to distract you, craving your attention like he's been starved for it all day.

"I can help you with your work later," he offers when you stay silent. "If you take a break with me."

James has a pair of convincing eyes and when he watches you like he needs you, you can't keep doing your work properly. You turn your face to him, recognize the vulnerable look in his face.

"Are you okay?" you ask with concern. He nods.

"Just tired," he replies. "I, um, kinda had an argument with Tom today."

Tom is one of his closest friends on the team, a person who makes his long training sessions more bearable. They don't really argue, this might even be the first time. Your brows get together with worry.

"I'm sorry, Jamie," you say, standing up and leaving your laptop.

"That's okay, we'll probably fix things tomorrow," he says. Sunshine personified, your favorite person in this world. "I just don't want to think about it now."

You take his hand, lead him to bed. It's messy with the blankets thrown over four different colored pillows. A silent practice, how you get your body tangled with his. He lifts his leg to settle it down between your thighs and you press yourself without being embarrassed at all. No need for that, he keeps telling you.

"What were you whispering?" you decide to distract him with a lazy tease. "Before you took me away from my stuff?"

"I'd say you willingly left, but the details are not important, huh?"

He gets on top of you with half of his body, looks at you with hazy eyes. Gorgeous boy.

"And I was just talking about how good you are at what you're doing," he whispers and kisses your cheek. "With that frown on your face when you're upset with it. Or with you biting your lip in pride when you got something right."

"You were watching me."

"I'm always watching you."

You kiss him and he closes his eyes. It's been a long day. He got through it somehow, but being able to relax after a day like this is not easy. Even James Potter needs to be taken care of sometimes.

His fingers are wanting, stroking your waist eagerly. The kiss lasts for a few minutes, whispers of affection lingering in the air between you. Your hands play with his hair, big waves falling in your palms as you move.

You take off your shirt. Nothing happens too fast and it's a good thing. How could he rush this when he got it after wanting so much? Desire pooling in his belly, legs shaking and James swears he could moan when you rub yourself on his thigh.

His shirt's on the floor, too. Every piece of clothing on both of you gets lost and James kisses your inner thigh.

"Get under the blankets," James tells you. "It's cold in here."

You do as he says with his help, pulling his naked body under the soft fabric with you. "I'm feeling really warm," you tell him with a sneaky smile that usually belong to his part of teasing.

"Yeah?" he asks against your collarbones. "Can you show me where?"

You take his hand and drag it slowly to your belly. He does the rest of the job and moves his fingers to your wetness. Sticky sweet under his touch, lazy and wanting. You close your eyes and let him play with you.

James has long fingers and they are thick, but he makes sure they are warm enough every time he touches you. His thumb spends a few second with your clit and he uses others to spread the wetness all over you. You lift your hips when he presses just right, his eyes are glowing with something both exhausted and excited.

"Pretty," he whispers, his fingers find a nice rhytm. It's lazy and slow, a gentle touch on your body and he feels like he belongs here. Right here on the bed, under blankets and his hand never stops touching you. He keeps moving until he has you shaking with a tender wave of shiver.

"It's not gonna end," he murmurs on the side of your neck, his lips not kissing and letting you go mad. "I promise I'll keep going."

He sounds so in love, but so tired. You don't even try to stop yourself from accepting the rush his fingers bring, it's strong and you arch your back. Pleasure has you trembling, it's delicious, and you let out a songlike breath. You want to beg him to kiss your neck, he understands your shaky breaths and finally parts his lips against your pulse point.

His fingers keep moving the way you like. You can't see his face as he's kissing your neck, sucking a little bruise there, you hold the back of his head gently to look at him. A pair of lovesick eyes, his lips are swollen and cheeks warm with desire. You can almost feel him rubbing himself on the sheets, the thought of it is enough to let go.

"James," you whisper, desperate to touch him with your free hand. He stays still. "Don't do it yourself, I wanna help. Please, oh-"

He doesn't listen. He can't. His hands are busy and he can't breathe, he needs to come undone. Adjusting his hips, he gets some stimulation from the sheets, enough to make him moan. "I'm so tired, I need to come with you. I can't- can't wait, sweetheart, I'm sorry."

"Let me touch," you say in a demanding but soft voice. "Let me help."

James listens to you this time, he knows you'll do a better job. He comes up a bit higher in bed for you to reach him, you eagerly extend your hand to feel. It's not difficult to get him right there with you, the moment before the peak. He closes his eyes and puts his head on your chest, lazily sucking on your nipple to ground himself. He's moving his hips against your hand, a big breath ready on his chest.

You come with a moan. James thinks it's the prettiest sound ever. With the rush of the moment, you move your hand faster and he follows you. Your mind goes blank, the world gets blurry. James stays on your chest, his body feels heavier now that he's relaxed. You love seeing him like this, without the anxiety his day left behind.

"Need to clean us up," he mumbles. He's half asleep. "It's uncomfy."

You smile softly. He doesn't even have the energy to blink. "Stay for a while," you tell him, your hand in his hair to fix his waves. "We can do it later."

It's tempting and James is easily convinced. Your chest is the perfect pillow, his head moves as you take calm breaths. Rubbing the tired muscle between his shoulder and neck, you urge him to fall asleep. He forgets everything other than your touch.

[nemisuki]

New Colors 

Synopsis || A grumpy 5 yr old wanting his classmates' attention!

᧔o᧓ || katsuki bakugo x f!reader, she/her pronouns, pure fluff, short oneshot, bkg pov, kid bkg & reader, jealous bkg, deku mentioned, both in preschool, open ending, he’s just a lil guy, 488 word count

He couldn't believe what he was hearing! 

An extra actually managed to take her attention away from him?! Ridiculous!

And out of all people... of course it had to be the nerd.

The blonde frowns from across the classroom – practically burning holes through poor izuku's skull – his displeasure evident in the way he furiously fills his page with crayon.

For a five year old, the teachers noted that the boy had quite a temper, so they didn't think much of it when he stomped out of his seat a few minutes later.

Assuming he's simply having one of his infamous tantrums.

Instead, he marches towards her direction – right after izuku retreated to his seat – feeling like a small fireball, destined to explode but holding back his fury for her sake.

The exchange between y/n and izuku bothered him more than he liked to admit.

Her innocent gaze meets his and before she could get a word out, his hand reaches down to grab her coloring book, the other pulling her hand to follow.

Hmph, as if he'll let Izuku snag her away.

She's beyond speechless. Stumbling a bit but soon pauses as he drops her hand, watching as he places her book at the table next to his.

"Sit."

He doesn't wait for a response as he plops down in his own chair, going back to filling his All Might coloring sheet like nothing.

Though his pink cheeks are clearly noticeable to anyone who'd look his way.

"o-oh but my crayons-"

He nudges his own box of crayolas towards her, not making eye contact as he focuses on coloring inside the lines.

The boy can hear her sit down beside him, a small sound of awe escaping her lips as she takes a crayon for herself.

"thank you kacchan! you always got the best colors!"

A cheerful smile immediately forms on her face, her mood brightening up instantly – legs happily kicking back and forth under the table – another testimony to her increasing joy.

"hmph of course i do! the best for the best!"

The feeling of triumph fills his veins but the cocky smirk wavers from his face as he looks at you. A fluttering feeling in his chest as she giggles to his words.

He averts his gaze as his blush deepens.

"...you can borrow them too but only if you sit next to me from now on."

"ah- really?! okay i promise!"

"just don't give them to anyone else...... especially him."

He mumbles the last part to himself, waving off her oblivious expression as she asks him what he said.

Bakugo Katsuki does not share – whether it's his lunch, school supplies or toys – steal one of his valuables and it's absolute mayhem.

But to the stunned teachers who saw it all, and the shocked kids when he actually offered stuff to someone, it seemed he added another treasure to his list... you.

Poor innocent you.

✦ ⎯⎯⋆ ˚｡⋆ ୨ masterlist || taglist || intro || socials ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆⎯⎯ ✦

a/n ||| idk where this idea came from but here u goooo! it's rlly short bc ngl i got superrrr lazy today so enjoy this little drabble! bring back innocent fluff i say... lowkey wanna make a story of them as babies bc thats so funny to me for some reason lololol. OMG ALSO DOES ANYONE REMEMBER THE 64 PACK OF CRAYONS THAT HAD A SHARPENER INCLUDED IN THE BOX?! BRING THAT BACK!!! tags ||| @leleyro @zaiban2989 ໒꒰ྀི ´๑  ̫๑`  ꒱ྀིა

[starreo]

pro hero! katsuki bakugo drabble .

being icky has never been hotter. includes insecurity on katsuki's side, fem! reader p in v in the last paragraph lol, and adult themes, so mdni!!

when he's just started dating you, katsuki feels so scared of holding your hand. he feels that if the sweat is icky to him, then it'll be icky to you. and for all katsuki is, he will never want you, out of everyone to think he's 'icky'.

so he shoves them in his deep pockets, trying to wipe off the sweat, hoping, maybe by the end of the date, he might be able to. but it doesn't help. the silk pockets make it worse and his hands are sweatier than before. so he just decides to grab you by your waist as he leads you back to your door.

that night katsuki goes home, happy about your present, but nervous about your future. what if he holds your hand on the next date? and what if you hate how wet it feels. what if he can just never touch you?

however, all of the silly questions in his silly head crumble, when you pout and complain about how the winter dries up your hands so much. and as he's about to make some comment, to mask up his insecurity, you grab his hands in yours. sheepishly murmuring about how he's so lucky to have a natural moisturizer, which keeps his hands so soft all the goddamn while!

and his breath hitches, and his heart beats louder.

ever since then, katsuki makes sure to hold your hand no matter what the two of you are doing. and each time he reaches out to grab it, he smiles, at his past self, who was worrying so much.

because now he doesn't just get to hold your hand out on dates to help you cross the road. he holds your hand on the table, when the two of you are eating at a fancy restaurant. he holds your hand in front of your family, grinning as your parents tease him about not being able to keep his hands off of you.

he holds your hand against the pillows, when his cock is buried deep inside your snug walls. intertwining his fingers with yours as he thrusts in and out of you, slow, but deep. his other hand caressing your bottom lip, as his finger hooks the corner of your gasping mouth, drool slipping out of it. katsuki chuckles as his fingers make contact with the sticky substance, who knew being icky could be this hot?

i come back and this is the first thing i write???? ALSO lolll all the confidence that i had at first about writing longer stuff flew away like a seagull with a bag of cheetos. idk why but recently I've been so obsessed with mha again.....ugh.

© starreo 2024. do not copy, translate or repost .

[vyainide]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ౨ৎ monster trio & kissing

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ2024 ©1864RERUNS

includingㅤ━ㅤmonkey d. luffy, roronoa zoro, sanji vinsmoke

tag(s)&warning(s). drabbles, gn! reader, sfw, fluff?, what constitutes as fluff idk girl, established relationship w/ zoro and sanji, luffy is a secret third thing i guess?, stray 'kms' threat in sanji's part

from vyon. big up to alex turner and no. 1 party anthem; luffy's is marginally longer because he's my most specialiest boy and he deserves special treatment and i struggled way too hard with characterising sanji in a relationship aside from all the embarrassing simping stuff, he's just amazingly pathetic, i don't wna talk about it, the main star here is luffy

like a lot of other things, kissing comes easy to luffy. though he's never had any couples around him as he grew up, he's been on enough adventures to catch a number of couples share a few quick pecks here and there. sabo's once mentioned kissing as well— a sort of distant memory that comes back when your lips first land on his cheek on your supposed first date. it might be sabo's fault, or his parents, that luffy believes kissing to be bleugh before he's tried it. though in sabo's defence, there wasn't a child in the world that would want to see their parents kissing. still, it isn't as bad as sabo made it out to be, luffy thinks as his wide–eyed gaze follows you back onto the sunny. there's something in the shape of your lips sunburnt onto his cheek, crisp just underneath the scar he'd gotten as a child.

the old scar is a smudge between a burning hypersensitivity and a cold unfeeling stretch of skin; your lips brush against the scar and it tingles itself into simultaneous death and rebirth. burning, melting— luffy presses a hand against his cheek and feels full. then his lips pull into a grin and the burn of your lips spreads out, pushing through every fold of skin as his hand reaches out for the sunny and he flings himself into the air, allowing the feeling to crawl through sinew.

luffy is no stranger to touching— he does it in painstaking excess, but there's a childhood teaching in him that kissing is not the same as touching. he stares at nami for a while, wondering if the instinct to feel her is the same as it is for you; she gets annoyed by his unwavering stare and swats at his head. he decides it's a no.

kissing is meant to be con... consumption? conservative— constellation? no, it's one of those 'c' words that he doesn't really remember, but he knows that he's supposed to ask you if you want him to kiss you. he doesn't understand the idea of waiting for permission but he'd really hate it if you were grossed out, like ace once told him would happen if kissing happened unconventionally(?) (that's not right he thinks), so he asks you one day.

as simple as he gets, luffy comes up to you and asks. "do you want me to kiss you?"

you splutter in shock and you hear movements on the deck still. luffy thinks he'd maybe forgotten something that the people in foosa village taught him but he waits for you to answer anyways. it doesn't come because sanji is aiming a kick at his head and shouting at him about the delicate intricacies of romance and courting. through all the dizzying flips of colour as he jumped away from sanji's attack, a kaleidoscope of the things he loves the most (the sea, his ship, his crew) in his eyes, he sees the hesitant embarrassment that colours your cheeks in. the burn that you've placed in him sparking up a fuse between the two of you at the slip of his tongue against gums and he laughs, swinging away and crash landing on whatever usopp was building out of sticks.

you return to him at a more private time, slip up next to him wordlessly— he doesn't say anything so you fear that he'd forgotten.

"do you still mean it?" your shoulder knocks against his.

"mean what?"

you turn to look at him, your eyes flickering down. "when you asked if i wanted you to kiss me."

that gets his attention, his head turns to you with a flexibility only he has— his eyes blinking at you carefully. "i did, did you make up your mind?" his lips pulled up into a grin, "you want me to kiss you now?"

you wish he had a less abrasive way of asking, but the answer is the same regardless. you nod and luffy takes.

you're not sure what you're expecting at this point. you know how luffy is about psychical touch, he's no stranger to it— everything he's ever known, he's ran his hands over. the amount of times you've been knocked down to his reckless habit of flinging himself into your back, you expect the same thing here.

luffy inspects you for a moment, the corners of his lips pulling down before twitching into a pout, "it's not gonna hurt, silly, why'd you look like that?" he shifts his body to face yours, his knees knocking against yours as he pushes his face closer.

then, his lips stretch outwards— his damn devil fruit— and it's so comical how his puckered lips pulled towards you to press gently against your cheek that you're laughing when it snaps back into place. luffy laughs along with you for a moment. a gooey comfort strained inside of you, your hands pressed against his cheeks— you find a simple joy in pulling his face, and then you find a better joy in leaning yourself closer to press your lips against his.

you're giving so luffy takes. he shifts onto his knees for better leverage to lean into you— the movements are stiff and careless. he's less kissing you and more just pushing his face into yours but you can feel the strain of his smile against your lips so no matter. being luffy, he pushes and he pushes greedily until your hands move from his face to the deck to keep yourself from falling.

it's so stupid how, even though this sucks, you want to make an occupation of kissing him.

it becomes a habit for him to kiss you no matter how far away you are by taking advantage of his devil fruit. eventually, he does get better; you realise why after a pointed comment from robin that hints to the fact that he'd asked her for kissing tips.

zoro is all lingering touch, heated spaces, and fizzling affection. it's not often that he gives you the pleasure of being skin close with him— not that you mind. he's eye candy enough, grunting and sweating in a handstand with barbells methodically placed on his feet and boxes of miscellaneous supplies for added weight. he's never been the type to need the world in his life; everything he's done has always been to prove a sick something to himself, to his strength.

his devotion is similar. there's no place for prying eyes in your relationship when there's you, the fulfilling adoration, and zoro. sometimes, there is also his swords and other times, there is an overwhelming luffy (who knows no boundaries).

he's always more forgiving with you, but he draws the line at excessive pda and you respect that boundary. fleeting contact has never been zoro's strong suit, he's an all or nothing soldier so when it comes to kissing, he likes the ready privacy that allows him to indulge. so he ignores the pointed staring, how you've made yourself comfortable on the benches in the crow's nest; your body sprawled out following the curve of the seats as your face turns red from how you have your head hanging off the cushioned planks.

he grunted, turning his head back down to the floor before he loses his balance.

you start counting, "one, two, three." he's well past those measly numbers but he lets you do as you please. "four, five, one, three, sixty–five, twelve, two, negative five, twenty, fourteen, nine—"

he folds his legs down against his chest, letting the weights fall to the floor with a thud. "alright," he straightened up, "you've made your point." an unimpressed look crosses his face.

your lips curled up into a grin and then you pull yourself up, throwing his towel at him. he takes the hit to the face and presses his hand over the fabric to wipe away the sweat and falls next to you, sliding his body down for his head to lay on your thigh.

"ewwww," your face scrunched up, "you're sticking to me." his hair is clinging to his forehead, interrupted strokes of green paint against his temple.

"shut it."

a laugh is quiet on your lips as zoro falls into the comfort of the moment, his eye closing. you trace over his face and then you crane yourself down, ignoring the ache in your spine and neck, your lips fall onto his forehead, "one." you counted. then onto the space between his furrowed brows, "two," his nose, "three". over his eye, "four." you pull back just in time to feel his lashes scratch over your lips.

a heavy judgement in his eye, stern and serious— he curls an arm up to press against your nape and pulls you down. there's a weight that's tethering you to the moment in the curves of his arm and a light–headedness that makes the stillness burst at the seams as zoro ignites everything alive. it's a slow and careful thing, how his head rises to meets yours and then how it tilts so he can slide his lips onto yours.

his arm drags across your neck until you feel moisture in the contour of his calloused hand, fingers pushes into your hair as zoro leans back from your lips, humming. "five." he says, a whisper of a smirk on his lips. a flicker of tender violence in how he fists your hair at its base and pulls your head back to give himself access to your neck. all or nothing, you're reminded, he drags this kind of simple affection into long, several moments.

he continues counting, picking up where you left off until you both hear luffy calling for zoro to help him fish and your relationship mellows back down, protected in loud secrecy.

there's always a strange line to tread when it comes to sharing intimacy with sanji. he's the quickest to melt when it's passing pecks, a second touch of your chapped lips against his cheek.

it depends on the atmosphere of the moment. just as quick as you can puppeteer him to pliant stuttering, sanji is more than capable of wearing you down to your barest core with his appreciative methodical gestures.

what everyone else is most familiar with are the fast moments of sanji softening when you offhandedly touch him. a simple smile on your lips as he gracefully sets your plate down in front of you, ease in the way your head turns to face him and you give his cheek a grateful peck, a quick kiss against his lips when you're splitting ways upon docking on a new island. it's enough of a spectacle that luffy makes the same laughing racket when you kiss sanji casually to see him twirl with new founded energy and hearts in his eyes; that zoro has a trademarked insult ready on his lips whenever it happens; that nami owns a jar that sanji has to put money into whenever he starts his weird dance.

it's almost easy to forget how sanji reciprocates. love has always been a second language to him— it's burrowed in his every unhurried moment when cooking, it's a burn that drove an abscess in him when he was younger, it's straightened postures and the clean lines of his stature for every perverted thought that plagues him. his every move carries an echo, a drumming confession that rings i love you, i love you, i love you until the words are bleeding raw into each other and you feel undeserving in his passion that stinks of cigarette smoke.

the disturbance of the lit end against a clear canvas of blue skies, his arms folded over the handrails of the sunny, the strokes of grey smoke that taints the pristine clouds that rest languidly; a rigid lock on his features until you're brought to his attention with your shoes clicking against the deck. his face shifts into something more delicate— full of feeling that's different from his usual excitable manner.

"bad for you," you begin with a light–hearted scold, plucking the cigarette away from his lips. he turns to you, his back against the handrails.

his restless hands search for touch and find an answering comfort on your skin, turning up and down over the shape of your hips until his thumbs dig into the waistband of your bottoms. "don't," he pleads, "you know it kills me when you're disappointed."

your lips turn upwards, "should i cry?"

"please." his voice wavers between a weak warning and aching desperation as his head falls onto your shoulder, pulling you closer.

the smell of smoke is cauterised into his skin— you don't mind it and you don't mind him smoking, but you think it's funny to act like you do if it has sanji like this. his hair scratches against your skin, tickling an itch he'd placed in you long ago and you thread your straying hand into the strands as his fingers press demandingly into your hips. following your motion, sanji turns his head to look up at you.

a furrow in his brows and a plea in his eyes.

"you know i'm teasing," you lean down, pressing a kiss against his lips as an attempt to appease him, "but you know i'll have to kill myself if chopper comes and redirects his disappointment at me again." you sigh, weary at just the topic. "i mean seriously, he looks at me like i'm the one shoving cigarettes into your mouth and forcing you to inhale."

sanji tries to focus on your words but your lips have left him cold when you pull away; suddenly, being skin to skin isn't enough and he's trying to placate the greed that is curdling inside of him. it works for the better half of a second, his thumbs pull out of your waistband and his arms wrapped around you, one around your waist and the other dressed against your back.

he ducks his head down and settles his craving.

sanji is gentle all around, careful to make even his affections palatable. he starts slow, testing waters that he's skinny dipped in previously and when he finds no rejection, he moves in deeper. he's a lifelong hunger that can never hope to be satiated when close to you, unwavering in a promise that has wedding bells ringing deep in your bones.

there's a new memory of a life he wishes for you, brought to life and fed by the taste of you. for now, he has to pull away as the ship rocks into a tempestuous sea and panicked feet disrupt the echo of the bells. nami starts to shout orders. he pulls away. his heart stutters in time with the unpredictable storm. sanji trips over his feet on his way to pull up the sails and he starts twirling when it makes you laugh.

[cherrychilli]

18+

Eddie Munson x AFAB reader, friends to lovers, mentions of nudity, brief mention of masturbation (m). Basically, Eddie finds you sleeping naked in his bed.

A/N: Idk I've had this idea in my head for too long now and I need to exorcise it out of me with this little drabble or I'll never be able to get on with my life.

Forest Hills trailer park wasn't your usual stop after clocking out of work but after the day you’ve had you don’t have it in you to wait for the next bus back to your apartment. Your place is 30 minutes away but the journey is sure to take even longer in the current downpour.

Staying over at the trailer wasn't anything new. A spare key was entrusted to you years ago and you made use of it on days like this to crash at Eddie’s for convenience sake. The key came with the promise that you were welcome to anything you needed even if both Eddie and Wayne were away – shower, food, an extra change of clothes, what have you, and you needed them all today.

With Wayne out of town for a few days and Eddie due back in two hours you sink into auto pilot, weary down to the bone from your shift. Maybe that’s why it doesn’t feel as weird as it probably should when you started to undress in their kitchenette, hanging your work clothes over the back of a nearby chair, rummaging through the fridge in your bra and panties for a quick bite to eat before heading for the shower.

There wasn’t much in it besides beer since Wayne hadn’t been around to stock it. Eddie always preferred ordering take out over getting groceries – something you were going to nag him for again when you had the strength to do so.

Cereal it would have to be.

You located a box inside one of the cupboards, tipping the wheaty, sugary contents straight into your mouth without bothering with a bowl and spoon. It’s not lost on you how similarly you’re acting to Eddie right down to the unruly state of half undress, wiping crumbs off your lips with the back of your hand. If you finished off with a belch it'd be like he never left the trailer this morning.

The messy mouthfuls of cereal prove enough to silence the toad’s croak of hunger that'd been gurgling noisily inside your belly, putting the box away.

Traipsing through, feet dragging, you threw your clothes into the washer next along with your underwear, completely nude now in the Munson trailer as you made your way to the shower – but not before reaching out for Eddie's Garfield mug that sat on a nearby shelf, turning it around so that the cartoon cat's lazy smirk no longer faced you. For your modesty.

You try to keep the shower brisk, not wanting to use up all the hot water but with the way it sprays down on your aching body, the steam and heat combo soothing your poor sore muscles, it’s so blissful that you have to keep yourself from nodding off right there.

You did make use of Eddie’s body wash, some spicy, woodsy smelling thing in a jet-black bottle but you didn't dare use the two in one shampoo that sat in their shower caddy. It might have worked fine for Eddie and his wild mane but you knew better than to apply the stuff to your own hair. Fortunately, experience had taught you to carry a travel sized bottle filled with your own shampoo whenever you stayed over, working over your locks in a lather scented with cranberries and vanilla.

Stamina depleting by the second, toweling off and brushing your teeth takes the last sliver of energy out of you. Eyelids slipping, movements sluggish, limbs feeling too heavy for your own body to hold up – you’re shutting down whether you like it or not.

Dropping the damp towel on his bedroom floor, you intended to change, you really did. You’d even picked out one of Eddie’s washed t-shirts and a pair of boxers out of the laundry and set them down at the foot of the bed to put on before you made yourself comfortable but that’s not what happened.

Still nude, you crawl into bed, seeking warmth and soft comfort, numbed down to a kind of tunnel vision with rest being your one and only goal.

It feels all the more natural because you’re used to sleeping naked in your own bed, much too tired to remember that you’re not in your bed, draping a blanket that doesn't belong to you over your spent body, surrendering to sleep seconds after your head hits the pillow.

It'd still been raining when Eddie returns later. Dragging himself through the trailer, nearly as worn down as you had been, shaking the excess water out of his hair like a dog trying to get dry.

The smell of your shampoo still lingering in the air tells him you're there, finding you curled up in his bed, all bundled up to your neck. The sight makes him smile.

It doesn't take too long for him to join you, following a similar routine – a quick bite with the addition of a beer and then a shower, only he doesn't skip out on clothing himself in his PJ's first.

If he’d shared the blanket with you he might have found out about your lack of dress sooner but as the gentleman that he can sometimes be, he pulls out a spare blanket from the closet so as to not wake you, prolonging the discovery. Being friends for so long meant that sharing a bed was never awkward even after you'd became adults.

That was until the next morning came.

It’s not the stream of morning light brightening from a cool blue to a warm amber peeking in between the curtains that wakes Eddie, or even the tinny smack of his neighbor’s broken screen door gusting open just a few feet away from his bedroom window. It’s the warmth of your ass pressed flush against his crotch and his nose nestled in your sweet-smelling hair that pulls him out of a dream he wont be able to recall later if he tried.

He shifts closer, eyes cracking open, remembering the tiny bottle of shampoo sitting on the bathroom counter. Remembering the new toothbrush placed in the cup next to his own. Remembering the powder blue towel that neither he nor Wayne ever used laying on his bedroom floor.

And then he remembers that he’s not alone.

Oh...

And then he wishes that he was.

Panic snaps up like a beartrap around Eddie when he realizes he's hard – his thick, throbbing erection pressed right up against your body.

Growing clammy, cold sweat beads on the back of his neck but he’s in luck because you haven’t noticed yet, still sound asleep.

This close together, he knows the slightest movement could rouse you. But what was the alternative? Wait it out? Hope to hell his boner goes away? Fat fucking chance. Not when the soft swell of your ass and your body heat alone had him questioning how he could ever go back to his calloused fist after this.

Carefully, desperately, he tries to inch back without waking you but just as he feared, you begin to stir. Your back arches instinctively, seeking out his warm, solid frame even in your sleep.

Shit shit shit.

The covers slip as you shift, your bare shoulders coming into view, eyes starting to flutter open. With no other option, Eddie swiftly rolls on to his back, his hard on no longer pressed up against you but the problem persists.

“Oh, morning”, you greet him through a yawn, pulling an arm out to rub at your eyes, blanket slipping lower but the frantic boy hasn’t noticed yet, too busy whipping his pillow out from under him to place over his lap.

“Uh-hey. Shower’s free if you wanna go first”, he offers quickly, smiling hard, hoping to subtly usher you out because he's too afraid to get up and risk you getting a load of the tent in his pants if he were to go ahead of you.

“Thanks”, you yawn again, still occupied with rubbing at your sleepy eyes to notice your best friend's pale face turning beet fucking red in an instant as you clamber out of bed, blankets no longer concealing you.

Eddie doesn’t know where to look first. His eyes dart everywhere, every bare inch of you on display. So much soft, naked skin it’s making him short circuit.

His gaze eagerly travels over the slope of your breasts as they jiggle gently with your movements, taking in your soft nipples, moving down over your belly and hips, noticing a few new freckles and beauty marks there along the way to the soft curls between your legs.

His erection digs into the pillow, brain dangerously close to fizzing because he’d been pressed up against you like that all night and not even known it.

A shiver works its way through you, making you question why it feels so drafty in his room all of a sudden. You turn back to ask Eddie if there’s anything wrong with the heating, catching the shocked expression on his face.

Looking down, you're met with the sight of your nude body, breasts bare, no underwear. It's a good thing the occupants of the trailer park liked to mind their own business, even if sometimes you thought they did so to a fault because in any other neighborhood your piercing screech would have had everyone within earshot dialing up the cops.

The scream ricochets off the walls at an ear ringing volume, causing Eddie to jolt and lose his balance, falling out of bed while you leapt back in. Grabbing his spare pillow, you press one half against your chest and squeeze the rest between your thighs to shield yourself.

Now he slaps his hands over his eyes.

---

More than anything, you try so hard to push it aside. To pretend that it hadn't happened but it looms over you like a cloud on the brink of bursting with rain.

After three whole days of walking around eggshells around each other it's Eddie who breaks first.

"I can't stand this I don't know what else to do, Can we just talk about it please?"

“Eddie…", you sigh, a gentle warning.

"So what if I saw you naked? you saw my boner!...sort of. I mean, I guess that doesn't exactly make us even but it has to count for something, right? you're not alone in this"

You immediately set your wide eyes on the only other patrons in the diner to see if they’d overheard – two older women swapping pictures of their grandchildren over coffee and cheesecake. When neither of them take a pause in the middle of cooing about little Tommy's third Birthday or little Emily's first day of Kindergarten you redirect your attention back to Eddie.

“Eddie! Keep your voice down!”, you whisper shout at him from across the booth. "There are literal grandmother's here!"

He rolls his eyes. Not mean spirited, just unconcerned by the ladies and what they may or may not have overheard.

And then, even though no one’s paying either of you any attention, you lean closer over your half-finished key lime pie, one hand shielding the side of your face like you’re trying to avoid getting recognized by an ex who’s just walked in.

"I'm so embarrassed...please can we just drop it?", you plead, voice hushed.

He gives you this look of mild incredulity. "You have nothing to be embarrassed about. Trust me", and the inflection in his tone almost gives him away, prompting him to double back immediately.

The last thing he wants is for you to feel more uncomfortable than you already do. So he doesn't need you to catch on that he's got every moment of your unintended strip tease memorized. Or that he likes to replay what he's since thought of as the best 10 seconds of his life over and over again when he's fucking his fist in the shower.

“I just mean that it's nothing to be embarrassed by. It could have happened to anyone. Who among us hasn’t napped in just their birthday suit before, am I right?” he finishes with a slight wince, knowing none of this is exactly helpful.

And you know he’s only trying to be nice in his own, sweet, bumbling way but you still feel terrible.

"I don't know if I can shake this feeling", you cast your eyes down, looking too close to despondent for his liking.

"Listen I- I don't know how to fix this but I want to. Please just tell me what I can do and I'll do it, okay?"

God, he's sweet and it makes you feel a little flustered being on the receiving end of that gentle stare, needing to shift the mood lest you drown in all that earnestness pooling in his eyes.

It's moments like this that call for a bad joke to cut the tension, right? some momentary and well meaning deflection before you're ready to address the matter at hand again.

Letting out a half hearted laugh, you make your best attempt to inject some humor into the situation.

"I don't know. Maybe it might help if you got naked too", you nervously scraped your fork against the buttery graham cracker crust of your pie, dislodging a few golden crumbs.

It was so very clearly a joke. At least you had thought so. Eddie? not so much.

His brown eyes go wide, looking scandalized, his voice coming out a little more quite than you're used to.

"What?"

"I mean, I showed you mine after all", you tried again in a cadence that was wholly unserious but once again, he fails to catch on.

"You want me to get naked for you?"

You should correct him and you mean to but before you're able to do just that, something about the way he's staring at you makes you want to match his seriousness. The fact that he didn't say no right away strikes you as weirdly intriguing.

"You don't have to", you clarify, adding, "It's just that – well, you asked and I think it could maybe help? to really get us on even ground?”

The words that come out don't feel like you own – foreign to your ears even though they're said in your voice, with your own lips forming them and your own tongue curling around every syllable.

What the hell am I doing?

Eddie pauses. Seconds drag on like nails on a chalkboard as he taps a ringed finger thoughtfully on the edge of his empty plate smudged with faint traces of cream cheese and lime zest.

"Fine. On one condition", he leans back, arms crossing over his chest, smiling wide and megawatt bright.

Oh my god is this really happening?

“...Yeah?”

"You're going to undress me"

---

Part two? who knows. Certainly not I.

[inspector-m3]

Thomas shelby x male reader drabble thingy idk

I've started watching peaky blinders and Im ill which made me think of this and it wont go away so now it's everyone else's problem too.

I've only watched one season so far so might bot be accurate to his character but im trying ;-;

warnings?: mentions of war, scars (not SH), possible PTSD stuff?? violence, alcohol, swearing...im really bad at warnings but i think that's everything unless you need a warning for the french too (jk)

Thinking about Thomas Shelby who owes you a favour. You own your own little group of miscreants but you dont deal with guns or betting, you grew a hate for guns after the war and made a rule to anyone who entered your pub that no guns were allowed. And you didn't do betting because there was too mich competition and dick measuring going on.

What you did deal in and make a living off of, was information, connections, you knew how to get things and what people had done behind closed doors, you were the eyes and ears in the walls. So of course Thomas had come to you for information, but he knew you wouldn't give it for free which is why he offered you a favour.

"anythin you want...any time, just for the information on the blokes I wrote down on that paper"

He says to you, and you take the offer, having the favour of a peaky blinder was valuable.

But what you weren't prepared for was how you'd use this favour.

It's late at night, your group had gotten into some trouble, a fight with another group that you'd prodded the bear with too much. You loose a few of your men, and that bothered you but what shook you the most out of your calm composure was the use of guns in that fight, the ringing was still in your ears as you stood outside Thomas Shelby's door.

When he opens the door you dont even greet him, just blurt out.

"im cashing in that favour. "

To which he raises an eyebrow but lets you in anyways, waiting silently as he tries to neaten his hair, messed up by a rough sleepless night.

"fuck......can i stay?...just for the night?"

You quickly realise how that sounds and sigh before trying to fix it.

"shit, not like that...i just...i just need to hear a heartbeat that isn't my own"

And somehow you got the great Thomas Shelby to agree on your favour, he convinces himself that it's just a favour, that it doesn't mean anything. But the fact you came to him instead of anyone else almost warmed his cold heart. He knew how it felt when the war wouldn't leave, when it made a home in your head and buried itself deep into your bones so that when they creak all you remember are the cries of your comrades.

So there you are, settled on his bed with your head on his chest, listening to the soft thuds of his heart. Your arms are tucked closely to yourself, trying to have the only contact being your head on his chest because this was humiliating enough as it was.

Your eyes close as you focus on the sound of his heart, it drowns out the sound of guns from both today's fight and the war, the sound of your own heart beating too fast because your body seems to still think there's a frenchman nearby and waiting with another gun.

You don't even realise you fell asleep until you wake up to the unfortunate reality that people tend to move in their sleep, finding your arms entwined around Thomas, your legs tangled with his.

Thomas himself was just as surprised when he hadn't heard any shovels that night and then awoke to see his hand ever so gently cradling your head to his chest, almost as a reflex he brushes his thumb across your shortly cropped hair. His eyes trail down, only now noticing the scars from war across your back and arms, he almost touched them and would've if he didn't know that it would probably wake you up.

You both untangled yourselves and lay apart and in silence when you were more awake.

"....this never happened."

You both agree in silence, knowing what would happen if anyone found out as well as the risk of getting attached which was never even thought about by either of you.

It was never spoken of again, both of you going back to just business, you almost forgot about it too.

Until you were sat in your pub, drinking peacefully with the chatter of the men, only to be disturbed when Thomas Shelby walks in, looking more unnaproachable than usual, he makes a beeline for you and murmurs something you weren't expecting.

"i need a heartbeat"

and it clicked, it was like an accidental secret code because no-one else knew what happened that night.

[retrowitchy]

hiiiiiiiii i rly like ur lenore dove stuff on ao3 so far, do u have any headcanons about her other than what we know (which isn't much)

omfg thank you so much!!!! i LOVE lenore dove with all my heart and soul and bones and writing from her pov is fun for me because we don't get to hear directly from the minds of most of the covey characters in the series (might do some lucy gray stuff soon too, or maybe go more niche and start making shit up about barb azure because i love her lol). here are some thoughts i have on our girl!

lenore dove headcanons because i miss her <3

massive sweet tooth (this is like...canon adjacent (rip) but i don't think it's directly stated). she'll take any sweets she can get, but she enjoys walking by the bakery and seeing the mellark family at work, even if she doesn't have the means to pay for anything. otho is a softie, though, and sometimes he'll trade a hot bun for a song on her tune box !

i think she was one of those little kids that was a yapper, and then got quieter when she got older. we know from haymitch's pov that in school she was pretty quiet, but very talkative around him and her uncles- but i bet from ages like 4-8 or 9 she never stopped talking. that girl has a LOT on her mind.

it took her a minute to warm up to haymitch and trust him. not THAT long. but i think she's the sort of person to not reveal her full self until she really feels comfortable.

she's known haymitch since she was ten, but burdock is her first and oldest friend (since they're related).

i think clerk carmine in particular really looked up to lucy gray, and because of that, lenore dove gets almost all of her information on her from him. tam amber, too, but clerk carmine was just a kid when lucy gray disappeared, and i think would have viewed her as kind of a living legend/big sister ------ > meaning that lenore dove has a similar, awestruck, larger-than-life view of her. i also like the idea that the scrap of raspberry ribbon on the inside of her sleeve is directly from the rainbow reaping dress, and clerk carmine gave it to lenore dove himself.

after her first bought in prison, she was grounded for a month. haymitch would climb up the clematis trellis outside her window, sneak into her room, and bring her gifts and leaves and flowers from the Meadow, since she wasn't allowed out (not that she didn't try to escape many, many times in that month).

first kiss at age 12. it didn't take her that long to fall head over heels for haymitch, even though they were still kids. my best guess right now is that she would have kissed him in some impassioned moment where he said something she wholeheartedly agreed with on a topic she cared very much about (sort of a romione first kiss type of beat) and it just sort of happened. and he'd get all blushy and silly about it and she'd feel a little embarrassed but also not really because she does what she wants and she never does a thing without a purpose. (idk maybe i'll turn this into a drabble sometime)

i got a ton more but these are just off the top of my head right now before i run off to class <3 <3