#drabble ➽; SHUT UP WHILE I TELL A STORY.

[yandere-romanticaa]

Seen the request, so I shall deliver. Could you pls write a drabble or hcs of a yandere sunday with an isekaied reader?

Good timing because I'm actually planning a non yan isekai fic for him, I wonder if you saw that post. Here it is in case you haven't.

Sincerest apologies if this isn't the best, this fic is 100% emotionally charged by my obsession with him and frankly with a little bit of a high for passing a tricky exam. This is a treat for myself.

EDIT: Please check out this wonderful comic that @danijaci made me based off this fic!! 😭🫶

Picking up the cup from the fine oak table, you gazed towards the eerie galaxy before you, hundreds upon thousands of stars giving you a constant reminder of just how far from home you truly were. Taking a sip from the little porcelain cup you could not help but to hum in delight, the soft notes of the tea soothing your nerves ever so lightly as you pretended to ignore the heavy gaze which lingered at the back of your head.

Even from this distance, it was easy to tell that Sunday was eager to approach you. Still, he kept his distance and made a silent offering in the form of the very tea you drank at the moment.

Anything is better than Himeko's coffee but you were never going privy her to that.

In a not so distant past, all of this was nothing but fiction. The Express, the story, the characters - it was all nothing more but fiction, something to pass the time as your days went on and on, the same monotony repeating each and every day.

It was hard to not think about your friends and family, what sane person would not? Lord knows how they must be feeling right now, worried sick out of their minds with indescribable sorrow. In their eyes you had merely vanished, not a single trace to be found. For all they knew you could have been left for dead in a ditch somewhere, beaten, bloodied and broken, never to see the light again or if they were even more inclined to be morbid, you had succumbed to a fate worse than death. Death at the very least grants you finality, that all is over regardless of what happened moments prior.

But that was simply not the case for you.

Here you were, lounging about in a comfortable chair as you pondered on your old life while enjoying tiny little luxuries, far away where none of your loved ones could reach you. However, life was funny sometimes because it had some fun games in store.

Sunday was very kind upon arrival. He made sure to always be there for you, always checking up on you, always there to keep you company. You were already smitten with him but now to actually witness him in the flesh was just... Indescribable. You got along like a house on fire, so much so that the crew liked to tease that you ought to just get a room. Sunday, ever the gentleman, would just brush their words aside and assure you to not take their playful little jabs to heart.

You wouldn't say anything, resorting to merely giving him a smile but not because of what he said but rather of what he did not - never once did he actually shut down those perverse accusations. Never, not even once did he deny them.

He became an emotional crutch, someone to whom you would come running to when things got tough and he would always welcome you with open arms. Sunday would hold you tenderly, his serene voice dripping with honey along with a tender drop of ecstasy, for his excitement with holding you would just show itself sometimes. His grip would be too tight at certain moments, never quite ready to let you leave. His hugs were warm and comforting, he always smelled so good too. He smelled like kindness and sweet wildflowers, always lulling you back to him no matter the time. In dark corners and perhaps even under the watchful eyes of the crew, Sunday would wrap his scarf around your head, securing the soft fabric in order to provide you with a sense of comfort.

It was humiliating just how much you would try to inhale his scent as much as possible. You wanted it etched deep inside your memory, you wished for it to linger on your very soul and for it to follow you everywhere you went, sticking to your being like tar. The fabric of the scarf would muffle your ears a little but someone was always chatting in the background. Be it March bickering with Dan Heng, Mr Yang scolding someone for doing something they were not supposed to, or just Conductor Pom Pom trying to give a speech, all of it was irrelevant.

You were ready to kill whoever would try to pry you away from sweet Sunday. That thought came often which had left you worried - just what kind of person had you become? Regardless, you kept your mouth shut and had no plans of sharing such violent sentiments with anyone, particularly not to the one you held so dear.

When it was time to part for the evening you would bid the crew farewell and wished them a good night. You always made sure to take a few extra seconds with Sunday, just to ease your aching soul. He would tell you to sleep well and would see you in the morning, ready to take on any endeavor that crossed your paths.

As everyone parted ways, Sunday would wander off somewhere dark and distant, somewhere no one could see nor hear him. He would fall to his knees and clutch his chest in agony, fat tears streaming down his face as he did everything he possibly could to steady his raging heart. In a rush he would reach for the scarf which clung around his neck, his grip tighter than iron as he would bring it close to his nose. Taking a large, deep breath, Sunday was greeted by your familiar scent which would promptly calm his poor heart.

He sometimes wondered if his heart would start bleeding from the pain due to the sheer intensity of his emotions.

This was wrong, everything about this was not right and it hurt. Sunday was obviously ill but he had no clue on how to fight this... This emotion, this white hot feeling of need whenever you stood by his side. He started to choke on the air around him and fell into an abrupt coughing fit but even then, he could bring himself to remove the scarf from the lower part of his face.

Sunday wept and sobbed, filthy snot coming out from his nose but he could not handle that now. He needed you, Oh Heavenly Aeons, how he needed you. However was he going to tell you how he felt? How, oh how was he going to express the sheer magnitude of his true thoughts? He would scare you off, he was sure of it.

Even with this pain, even with these clipped wings and bleeding heart, Sunday had never felt so alive, so harrowingly present in the moment whenever he was with you.

Perhaps, he was doing himself a kindness by just letting you be. Drink your tea, be at peace.

He can always just make you another cup if you so desired.

Without knowing, you both haunted each other in the most agonizing way known to mankind and neither was strong enough to face the reality of the situation.

[sereia4skz]

hi can you please write an imagine where you and chan spend a cute cuddly day, just soft romance

drabble | you're home

pairing: chan x reader

genre: fluff

warnings: n/a

word count: ~300

masterlist: A-Side (texts) | B-Side (written)

The front door clicks softly shut, and before you can even turn around, two strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. Chan buries his face into your shoulder with a quiet, exhausted sigh.

“Missed you,” he mumbles, voice a little hoarse from too many nights on stage.

You lean back into him instinctively, your hands resting over his. “You smell like airport and sweat.”

He laughs, nose brushing your neck. “Thanks, babe. Missed your honesty too.”

You gently wiggle out of his arms and turn to face him, cupping his cheeks. He looks tired—his curls are flattened from the flight, his under-eye circles a little darker, his lips chapped. But he’s smiling at you like you’re the only thing that matters in the whole world.

“Welcome home,” you whisper, eyes misting a little despite yourself.

He presses his forehead to yours. “I’m not moving for a week. You’ll have to drag me to the shower.”

“Actually,” you say, tugging him toward the bedroom, “I was going to make you unpack first.”

He groans dramatically but follows. “Torture.”

You both end up sitting on the floor, suitcases open, clothes half-folded into the laundry basket. Chan starts telling you stories, some chaotic, some sweet, about the tour as he hands you crumpled shirts and mismatched socks. You listen, hanging on every word, stealing soft glances at him each time he yawns or runs a hand through his messy hair.

Eventually, the basket’s full, the suitcase empty, and Chan’s head is in your lap while the washing machine hums in the background. His eyes are closed, lips parted, fingers loosely wrapped around yours.

“You okay?” you ask softly, brushing his fringe from his forehead.

“Mhm,” he murmurs. “Just… I’m so glad I’m home. With you.”

Your heart does a little somersault. You bend down and kiss the top of his head.

“Me too, Channie.”

The apartment smells faintly of detergent and summer rain, and you don’t even care that you’re both on the floor. He’s here. You’re together. And for now, that’s all you need

taglist: @diekleinesuesse @tillaboo @felixsonlyrealwife @geni-627 @skz8riley @lezleeferguson-120 @pixie-felix @headfirstfortoro @alnex05 @baby-stay92 @encoredesires @androgynouscrownorbit @channiesluvrclub @my-neurodivergent-world @chims-dimple @bookswillfindyouaway @stellasays45 @angel-writes-skz-here @m-325 @0sunshinecryptid0 @beal-o @hug4helios @oksullen @rileylovescats @dreamyfelixx @yxna-bliss @turtledove824 @enhacolor @skzz0213 @hannahlue @purplelady85 @velvetmoonlght @inishij @bangchanspineapple @straykids4lifeee @peskybirdysya @gnabsss

[bunni-v1]

I just saw the teasing, but shy / brat taming story. Can I request kinda similar but kinda opposite, MC who is shy and likes to tease but is actually a good girl? 🧡

I personally like to tease, I love seeing them start to lose it because they start to get so turned on but they know they can't do anything about it. (Not in an angry way tho, if that makes sense?) But I'm also very much a good girl, while I very slightly might test boundaries, I live to please. I don't see many stories for us good girls, (also pillow princess stories are quite rare) so if you feel comfortable, I would love to see this version also. 😄

Such a Good Girl~

Necessary marc tag: @cilomarc

🍓I saw this and IMMEDIATELY started brainstorming. Other than when I was writing Cookie Run, this is the fastest I've gotten to a request. Now, It might've taken me a little longer than I wanted to get it done... but shut up. Now I'm not sure how loyal I was to the prompt, I kinda just... got lost while writing. Still, I do hope that it's what you were looking for my love <3

TW: Brat tamer Zayne & Sylus; Mean Xavier; Oral Receiving (Rafayel) & Giving (Caleb); Use of "Good Girl"; BLATANT Caleb favoritism; Grammar Errors

Info: NSFW; Zayne, Xavier, Rafayel, Sylus, Caleb x Reader (separate); Short drabbles

Total Word Count: 6.2k words (individual count listed with character)

MDNI

ZAYNE (1.2k Words)

You don't even remember what you did to get yourself in the position in the first place. Well, you do, but you felt too lightheaded to think about it now. Zayne had you pressed close to his chest, head resting on his shoulder, and dick nice and snug inside your tight little hole. There was a pressure deep in your stomach that couldn't be relieved without movement, but he refused you the option, hands stilling your hips when they wiggled even a fraction.

Maybe, coming into Zayne's office during work hours in his favorite skirt wasn't the greatest idea you'd had. He was only so patient, especially when it came to you and your teasing. He let you play dumb for a little while, because it made you happy, and it's not like he didn't enjoy seeing the soft curve of your ass in the tight fabric as you waltzed around. It was almost cute the way you played dumb, like you didn't notice the way his eyes trailed after you and his pen stilled occasionally to observe you.

It was only meant to be a cute little game between the two of you, one you didn't expect to yield the results it did. But when he beckoned you over, pulling you between his legs by your hips, your fate was sealed. He had his usual calm expression, but his eyes were alight with need, drinking you in with each rove over your curves. The hands on your hips slid down to your thighs, then back up again, feeling the expanse of soft flesh as if it were his personal comfort.

His eyes find yours when he finally speaks, "Is there a reason you chose this skirt today?"

A little smile crawls up your face, almost shyly, "I thought you might like it."

His eyebrows raised in acknowledgement, lifting his chin just slightly in affirmation. His fingers pull you closer by the backs of your thighs, drumming up and up until they rest atop your butt. It's not a science to tell that he's very pleased with your answer, no need for a rigorous degree to read him, he spells it out for you without needing to be asked.

"I do," he hums, kneading your cheeks in his hands, "Were you hoping for a reward?"

Direct and to the point as always, you couldn't hide from him. There was no attempt with the way you flustered, eyes flitting around nervously while you nodded your answer. Far too cute, if you asked him. He tapped your bottom, and like a trained dog, you looked back at him with fluttering lashes.

"If you can be nice and patient, I'll give you what you want," he hums, tilting his head so the light catches in his eyes just so, "You can do that for me, can't you?"

And that's how you'd ended up throwing your legs on either side of him and curling into his neck like a lifeline. You'd cock warmed him before, it wasn't a challenge to sit still and let him work. The stagnant pleasure was something you had come to enjoy, an intimacy that set butterflies free in your stomach every time he offered for you to do it. What was difficult to deal with, though, was the tension in built in your head.

You knew how your night would end, obviously. The issue lay in not knowing when Zayne believed the reward awaiting you was earned. You were always his good girl; you knew you were so well behaved, he told you all the time. There was simply no measure that could properly count when you had behaved well enough for your treat. That was up to Zayne to decide, and it could span from minutes to hours of waiting. That was the fun of it, though.

He would tap his fingers along your sides when the time was getting closer. Physical affection and comfort pick up, as a little warning. You think it's mostly subconscious, more for himself than it was for you. Fingers slide up and down your spine, kisses pressed to the side of your face in reassurance, or arms pulling you just a little closer.

Your nerves jitter in excitement when he sets his pen down, the soft shuffle of papers being moved out of the way, the most exciting sound in the world. Gentle hands pull your face into view, stroking over your warm cheeks as an apology for making you wait so long. You smile at him, leaning into his hands, craving that skin-to-skin contact more than you'd realized.

"You want to move, don't you?" He asks, though it comes out as more of a statement.

Adamantly, your head bobs up and down, "Yes, Sir."

He hums, copying your nodding, "Go ahead then, you've earned it."

Not needing to be told twice, you use his shoulders as leverage to bounce yourself up and down in his lap. Slow and steady motions to start, dragging his length along your walls, taking in each inch of pleasure with delight. All the while, he watches you, making sure you behave like you're meant to. Both of you know you will, you'd never do anything to purposely upset him, but the thought of him watching for little slip-ups gets the heat boiling beneath your skin.

His hands rest on your hips, not helping, just resting patiently. Just in case. You try not to think too hard about it, focusing in on the task you were given. Taking in the comforting feeling of him buried deep inside you, dragging along your walls like he was made to be there. The pleasant squelching sounds filling up his normally quiet office, encouraging you to keep going even though your legs start to burn.

His head leans back, getting more comfortable in his chair, content just watching you use him. His hands squeeze in patterned intervals to further encourage you to chase your high. Quiet, watchful, and entirely taken with you. The flush on his cheeks was more than enough to signal that you were performing exactly as he wanted; there was no need to vocally pronounce it when he made it so obvious to you. Heated gaze committing every little shift in expression to memory, utterly obsessed with the way you fall apart so obediently.

And fall apart you do, movements quickly becoming sloppy. It's too difficult to raise your hips in the same motion over and over, so you've taken to rolling them instead. Your orgasm is quickly building, coiling up your spine and fuzzing up your brain deliciously. You can't cum without permission, though. You don't want to misbehave and face punishment. Luckily, Zayne knows you too well, sensing your need from the way your hips seem to stutter and how you clench in uneven patterns now.

One hand cradles your chin between loving fingers, tilting your face toward his. Those sinful green eyes glimmer with knowing, looking over your flushed face like reading a report. The smallest smirk pulls at the corner of his lips, head tilting to the side in a teasing motion.

"You want to cum?" He hums expectantly, and when you nod he continues, "Go on then, be good, cum for me."

And like magic, like your body has been trained to listen, that coil springs and snaps pleasure through your body. Your orgasm draws a long, low moan from your lips, your body falling forward against his shoulder. Despite the way it tingles from the intensity of the pleasure curling along every nerve, you feel the unmistakable gentle rub of practiced hands along your spine. Coaxing your body to relax into him, easing the heat encasing you just enough to keep you lucid.

Your reward for being so good for him.

XAVIER (1.2k Words)

Xavier loves the way you like to play with him - it's cute how you tentatively poke at him, then hide away the second he questions you. It's a little game he likes to play with you: play dumb and see how far you'll let yourself get before you self-correct your behavior. He doesn't even have to do anything; you give yourself up for him every single time with a flutter of your lashes and a pout.

Just like today, you were testing your limits again, and he was happily playing oblivious. It started with some poking to his cheek and his side, annoying, but nothing he wasn't used to. The way you lit up when he hummed in acknowledgement set a chill down his spine. You didn't stop there, eventually letting your cute little innocent poking evolve into firm grasps. Nowhere too risqué, on his arms or holding his waist as though that was where your hands belonged.

He'd slid his hand over yours at that point, quietly warning you that he was on to you. Not to negate, just to tell, a reminder of who was in charge of whom. You took it as an invitation and worked yourself up to more teasing touches. Featherlight as your hand grazed over his chest and above his thighs, still too good to push further than that. Your intention was clear without needing to go further, though, and it brought Xavier great excitement to see how you shrank back from giving in to your wants.

You didn't have to worry about it, and you knew that fact. Xavier was ready to hand it over to you on a silver platter, just waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It came when your fingers strayed just a little too high up his thigh, not intentionally, but the perfect excuse to grab them firmly. Bringing the hand to his lips, kissing their tips with such devotion, you nearly forget that he'd caught you in the act. Those pretty blue puppy dog eyes darken slightly when he gazes at you, intent clear as day in their sparkle.

"You've been quite playful today, starlight," He mumbles against your skin, "Are you hoping for something from me?"

You fluster immediately, just like he expected you to, because you're so scared of being bad for him. You hate it when he's mad, so you nod obediently. His other hand tilts your head gently, as if it's a suggestion of movement rather than a command. You listen regardless, moving your face as he likes, swallowing when his thumb grazes over your lip. He watches your tongue dart out after it, like you were trying to get a taste of what he left behind. That makes him more of a mess than he'd be willing to admit, breath shaking with his next exhale.

"Don't worry about telling me," He says, moving forward in a swift motion, pressing you to the couch cushions easily, "I already know what you need, just behave and I'll give it to you, okay?"

Another helpless nod, and he is hovering over you like a predator who'd just caught his prey. Sliding your clothes out of his way, not bothering to take anything off fully, far too preoccupied to care about such a trivial matter now. He only makes sure you're wet enough before he pushes inside your tight heat. It takes all his self-control not to moan out loud, mouth finding your neck to distract his brain with a different task for the moment.

He laves at the skin there, soft tongue sending shivers down your spine as it runs along the sensitive spots he's able to find like second nature. He works his way up to the shell of your ear, nipping and kissing along your jaw, buying time for your world to stop spinning before he sends it out of orbit again. You can feel the satisfied smirk against your ear, whining when the ghost of his teeth nibble along it.

"You're already so wet, you took me with no problem," He whispers, wiggling against you for emphasis, "You've been thinking about this all day, haven't you? How naughty, here I thought you were so well behaved."

You tug at his shirt, letting out an annoyed whine. Insistent, defiant, denying the idea that you had misbehaved. You hadn't, after all, he let you do all of it after all. He smiles, pulling back to look at your angry little pout.

"No?" He hums, and you confirm with a nod, "You think you're a good girl?"

You agree, vigorously nodding your head so hard he worries you might give yourself whiplash. Your angry pout makes him want to kiss you stupid, but he holds back on that. Only good girls get that treatment, and he wasn't so sure you'd earned the title yet. Instead, he presses his face close, just a hair's width away. Refusing to kiss you, but allowing you to desire it enough that he can see the need on your face.

"Why don't you prove it, then," He asks, rolling his hips once, "if you cum for me, maybe I'll reconsider my judgment."

With that, he begins his movements, sending your head spinning yet again with the pace he sets. Never one to waste time when he had you laid out so openly beneath him, he pistons himself into your wet heat at a steady but quick rhythm. Each drag manages to hit each spot against your spongy walls perfectly, getting you dizzy within moments of him starting. Your grip on his shirt tightens, using the fabric as a means of bracing yourself against the warmth spreading across your body.

It doesn't do anything for how quickly he manages to get you babbling, knowing your body better than you do. Those deep blue eyes watching you submit yourself willingly, knowing well that you would before he started. You always behaved so well for him; he just liked making you work for his praise. The angry expressions as you fought his accusations off, making him stupidly hot and bothered. Making the way your face absolutely scrunched up and losing itself to the heat of the moment all the more satisfying.

It doesn't take you long to reach your peak, not with how easily he works your body like this. Knowing exactly how to move his hips for you, like it was instinct to get you to fall apart on him. You cry out his name, fingers balling the fabric of his shirt like it would help you somehow. Cute, cute, cute sings inside his head, over and over, like he was losing his mind. He sees the moment the invisible thread in you snaps, and feels it as you grip around him as though trying to drag him down with you.

Instinctively, he comes down to kiss you, giving you your just rewards for being so good for him. The gentle reprieve he gives you makes it all worth it, though.

Mumbling against your moans his soft praises, "Good girl, keep going, give me all you can."

RAFAYEL (1k Words)

The only thing in the world Rafayel likes more than you is your attention. Knowing you're looking at him, having the awareness that you are encapsulated by him makes him happier than he'd be willing to admit to you. Something about the reassurance that you are there, and that you find him as mesmerizing as he does you, helps to calm his raging heart. Quells the burning fire of his yearning to a low simmer, no longer consuming him whole, but warming him from the cold of memories that still haunt him.

That attention of yours was addicting, and you were simply unaware of the effect you had on him. Which is why he felt as though he'd been going through withdrawals all day, a notable lack of your eyes on him driving him nuts. Yes, you were busy and he was oh so understanding of that... but he could only take so much. It was getting to be unfair at this point.

First, you wouldn't let him pull you back into the sheets, scolding him about 'work' and 'responsibility'. You sounded like Thomas, but he didn't complain too much that time, content to watch you get ready; the show was compensation enough. Then, audaciously, you refused to send him any pictures. Wouldn't even amuse the lighthearted flirting, too busy running around being a hero to pause for him. What made it all worse, when you got home, you were 'too tired' and 'just wanted to eat and nap'.

Fine, okay, whatever. He'll make you a tasty, nutrient-full meal and cuddle you on the couch while you talked about your day. He doesn't bring it up again, wouldn't push you when you seem so genuinely exhausted. He can go without for you, he did it for hundreds of years, what's a day?

It's fine until you start to get restless, wiggling about this way and that and pressing into him very intentionally. It clicks when you glance over your shoulder, pouting expectantly. You'd tortured him on purpose, how mean.

He pulls you back, hooking his chin over your shoulder with a smug satisfaction. The ends of his hair tickle your cheek when he pulls you into a deep and insistent kiss, not allowing you the time to catch up. He goes until you're dizzy, wiping away the string of saliva connecting you with that familiar playful smile of his, then it drops.

Annoyance, and that pout you hate to love stare you down, "Tell me, Cutie, were you intent on torturing both of us today?"

You shake your head, ready to deny him, but it catches in your throat. He nudges your nose admonishingly, almost daring you to say no. You'd played your mean little game, and he obeyed your rules, it was time for his reward; And he would be getting it. No matter what.

"I'm sorry," you mumble, "I didn't think I'd get this far."

He huffs, like he doesn't believe you, tracing your lip with his thumb.

"Talk is useless. Why don't you show me how sorry you are?" He rumbles out, eyes darkening in his desire.

You drop to your knees like you were being mind-controlled, freeing him from the confines of his pants. He stands at attention, proud and aching for your pretty lips to wrap around him. It makes you feel worse for playing hard to get all day, knowing how he must've been so needy this whole time. Those observant eyes watch you with hardly restrained excitement, twinkling down at you encouragingly.

You slide your thumb over the tip, spreading the pearly pre over it. There's an obscene amount of it, proof of how long he'd been keeping himself together, dripping down your hand. Absent-mindedly, you lean down to lick it up from where it slides down your wrist, following it back to the source. Salty and a little bitter, you ignore the taste for the sheer satisfaction of making him feel good.

You lick up what you spread around, popping the tip in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. He curses your name like it were sin itself. Sensitive and desperate. You use it as motivation to take him in, inch by inch, until your throat tickles, then you pull back. Wrapping what you couldn't fit in your mouth with your hand, beginning languid motions back and forth. Sucking, swirling, pleasing him just how you know he likes.

You want to make it up to him, feeling so bad for teasing him the way you did. You really didn't mean any harm, but from how he was throbbing along your tongue, you know you did. Using your mouth to make it up to him was the least you could do. Apologizing with each hum you send along his shaft, sending your sorry directly through his nervous system.

A hand runs through your hair, scratching your scalp soothingly in reward. Not that you've earned it, but he can't be too mean when you're just so good for him. The prettiest sight he's ever seen, lips wrapped around him while you desperately try to keep eye contact between the fluttering of your lashes. All your attention was his now, and he was happy to hog it all unashamedly, just like you were to suck him off for hours.

He thought about letting you, he thinks you may even deserve the way your knees would sting after the fact, but he can't help but be weak for you. Not when he had a lot more he wanted to get done tonight. The gentlest tug is all it takes for you to pop off him, swallowing up air as though you'd been drowning. He smiles, wiping a little bit of spit running down your chin. His messy little masterpiece.

"You can take all of it, can't you?" He asks, and you nod in a daze, licking your lips.

He allows you to take him again, helping you take more and more down your throat until he's settled there like it's where he belongs. You breathe through your nose, face scrunched up in concentration, trying so hard to make it up to him. It's so charming, making his heart race and sending the blood right back to his dick.

It's not enough, though; he needs you to look at him.

"Cutie," he hums, and you look up at him, glassy-eyed and desperate for approval. He smirks, "Such a good, obedient girl for me, I think I can forgive you this once if you keep it up."

SYLUS (1.2k Words)

Sylus was a very busy man, something you knew intimately after being with him for so long. Frequently, he was off somewhere in the N109 Zone doing something that you were safer turning a blind eye to than asking about. You'd spend weeks at a time without seeing him, alone in your apartment as you worry needlessly about his well-being. He always came back in perfect condition, smirking at you as though your worry was some pointless thing, teasing you for how much you care.

Being with him was difficult, but ultimately worth it in the long run. The way he took care of you far outweighed the periods where you could not physically have him with you. Though... sexually... You felt your resolve waver just a bit.

You found yourself very pent up in the weeks that he was gone, and there was only so much your fingers or toys could do to satiate the heat that boiled in your tummy. Pictures and videos of your previous times together helped, but also made it worse at the same time. You just wanted him: his warmth, his touch, his taste. Devastatingly addictive, and you felt strung out without him at your side.

You'd send him pictures and videos, hoping he'd return the favor when he gets the chance. Sometimes he'd call you and talk you through it, cooing at you as though you were an insatiable kitty and not his very needy partner. Naturally, given your human nature, you can only handle so long before you start feeling petty.

Normally, you wouldn't deprive yourself when he comes home to you, whispering syrupy sweet words into your ear. Not this time. No, you wanted him to have a taste of how frustrated you would get. Since he seemed to find it oh so funny when you got all needy, let's see how he liked it.

You forgot how patient he was.

He could reasonably wait several millennia, and you were finding that out the hard way. He was a stone wall of impartialness; nothing could shake him, and within a week, you felt your resolve rapidly crumbling. He knew this, of course, he always knew. Yet, he let you play your game without a peep. It only made you more infuriated, need burning in your stomach every time you looked at him, trapped in a prison of your design.

You give in a week and three days into your little facade, frustrated and pent up, and by Astra needing him to do anything for you. He looks up at you like he was expecting your arrival at his office door. You're not aware of the cute little pout on your face, nor the way you nervously fiddle with the hems of his oversized shirt sleeves. And, goodness, he questions himself on how he could possibly hold out for so long when you're just so radiant.

You stop short of his desk, positioning yourself with arms crossed as you glare at him. He regards you with a tilt of his head, leaning back in his chair like a king on his throne. It's not meant to be intimidating, but it sends a chill up your spine. Fuck he was unfairly sexy, wasn't he? How could you purposely ignore him for some stupid petty pride?

You take a deep breath, sighing out your apology, "I'm sorry."

"Whatever for?" He hums, amusement thickening his voice.

"For avoiding you," you continue, stepping forward like owning up to it, "I was just..."

"Frustrated?" He finishes for you.

In a ridiculously smooth movement, he stands, walks to your side, and gently guides you to his couch. You are lying down across his lap, head propped up by a pillow against the arm, looking up at him with wonder. A large hand rests on your thigh, sliding your skirt to pool around your waist as you prop your knees up. Fingers stop just short of the apex of your thigh, tapping patiently along the soft skin there instead.

"It must be so difficult, being without me for so long," he purrs, "I can only imagine so, since you thought to play such a silly game with me."

You frown, resisting the urge to clench your thighs, "I just wanted you to feel how frustrated I was."

"You think I don't miss you when I'm away?" He scoffs, rolling his eyes like it was an offensive thought.

"Not as much as I miss you," you spit back.

He releases a huff of a laugh, squeezing your thigh, and you realize too late you've fallen into his trap, "Oh really? I suppose not, then. Tell me, though, what exactly do you do when you miss me?"

He knows what you do, of course, and he takes great pleasure in the videos you send. That does not stop him from quickly dipping his fingers into your underwear, finding the wetness pooling there pleasing, "Do you touch yourself like this?"

His fingers, long and slender and precise, swirl over your clit in practiced motions. The movements seem sloppy, but it's far from unintentional. He's mocking you, discarding his usual smoothness for how he imagines your fingers might play with the needy bud.  It's annoyingly accurate, which is why you melt so easily. You missed his touch so badly, unable to move your fingers in the same way he can, far less precise and sure of yourself.

You nod, swallowing hard, "I can't touch myself like you do."

"Poor little kitten," he soothes, mercifully correcting his motions to the tight circles you missed, "Don't worry, I'm here now. I'll touch you as much as you want."

Flimsily, you grab his tie, giving it a gentle tug, "Kiss me, please."

He doesn't waste any time in giving in to your commands, lips finding yours in a slow and passionate kiss that gets you sighing. You had missed him so badly, you were so needy, and now he was kissing you like you were the oxygen he needed to breathe. Your little game was stupid anyway, the pettiness melting to make way for your desire to please and be pleased.

You moan into his mouth when his fingers dip into your heat, dragging along your walls, reaching far deeper than you could've dreamed. He's skilled with his movements, curling them along the most sensitive spots he'd taken time to memorize. Somehow, knowing your body better than you do. Which is why it's no surprise you cum quickly, orgasm coming without warning and leaving you breathless against his lips.

He's muttering your praises, 'very good', 'that's it', 'perfect', and it only makes you more hazy. How he could be so sweet to you after you were so stupid was beyond you, but you didn't want him to stop. He doesn't, intrinsically knowing what you need without voicing it, and soon you are working through your second consecutive orgasm. Then your third, until you are finally coming down from your high with his steadfast praises ringing through your mind.

"Thank you," you mumble.

"Thank you," He answers, pressing a soft kiss to your nose.

CALEB (1.6k Words)

You didn't mean to tease him, honestly. It was innocent. It was always something innocent... until it wasn't. Until you managed to push enough that he decided it wasn't, because there was no way he was rock hard over some harmless little antics of yours. Or, maybe it was the fact that it was so innocent that got him so hot and bothered.

As much as he loathes to admit it, he gets a kick out of defiling you. You call it a kink, he calls it human nature (only for him, though, forbid another man thinks about the things he does.) Regardless, you tease him without meaning to all the time. The comfortableness you feel with each other allows your walls to come down, and unintentionally make something else of his rise. It was a good thing to be so comfortable with your partner, after all, you'd insist. Not realizing what seeing you in nothing but his oversized t-shirt did to his mind.

It drove him wild the way your completely harmless antics managed to 'wake him up' so to speak. He felt like a helpless virgin, which... he sort of was before you, but he figured he'd grow out of that phase eventually. Feels like it only got worse with time, and yet he wouldn't trade it for the world. Content to spend the rest of his days blue balling himself so long as he gets to live that sweet domestic bliss with you.

Currently, you are in the kitchen, working on the breakfast you'd insisted on making for him. Sweet as it was, Caleb was never really one to accept your acts of service without a fight, preferring to be the provider. It was a fight to get him to sit down and relax for once; one of his scarce days off should be spent decompressing, letting you treat him for once. He sat on the couch watching the news for all of ten minutes before he got annoyed and wandered to the kitchen.

He knew better than to get in your space, so he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with a glower. It softens when you send a smirk over your shoulder, brushing off his pouting effortlessly as you glide around his kitchen. It was too cute a sight to stay mad, anyway. His old t-shirt - the one he got from his high school honors program that he couldn't fit into anymore - hardly covers your ass, giving him just the smallest glimpse of your panties each time you reached up or shifted just right.

You shift from foot to foot as you work on the pancakes - apple cinnamon, his own recipe, of course. Hair pulled away so he could see the evidence of your late-night activities peek from just beneath the collar of his shirt. If that wasn't enough to send him into a catatonic state of domesticity, you would look at him every few moments, like you were waiting for him to do something. Sultry little pout tossed over your shoulder, gliding over his bare chest, just over the dick print in his grey sweats, then turning around like you weren't being the biggest tease in the world.

Normally, Caleb would let it slide. Normally, he'd roll off your teasing with a bright smile and a halfhearted scolding. Normally, he had somewhere to be in the morning, so he couldn't afford to give in. Today was not a normal day. Today was a rest day, and what better way to rest than indulging in all the desires he'd purposefully pushed off until now?

He cages you between his arms when you look away, moving a fluffy pancake to the plate set next to you. They looked perfect; you'd followed his recipe exactly. Too bad he wasn't craving pancakes right now, and judging from the way you giggle when his lips graze your shoulder, you weren't either.

"Feeling hungry?" You laugh, reaching a hand back to scratch the base of his skull like he was an overgrown mutt.

One of his hands slides to turn off the stove, then wraps around your hip, pressing you back into his crotch. You feel how hungry he is, poking at your buttocks through the minimal layers of clothing both of you are wearing. Open-mouthed kisses across all exposed flesh he could reach further incriminate him, urging you to give in.

"Starving," he groans.

"Well then," you hum, turning to face him - he doesn't leave your skin for a moment, moving with you, "dig in."

He moans, lifting you up to the counter with a swift heft, spreading you out pretty for him. His lips trace down the fabric of his shirt while his fingers inch it up over your hips, humming satisfied when they find skin to ravish again. He makes a fast trail to your clothed entrance, pressing his nose to the wet fabric and taking a deep whiff. Another groan grumbles out of his chest, and in another moment, he's licking along the slick staining the fabric.

You both moan at the sensation, Caleb's muffled by you and you by your hand. He tugs you closer, tossing your legs over his shoulders, surrounding himself with your thighs. No escape, not that he had any intention of leaving. He looks up at you, smiling when he notices how you try to hide, eyes darting around the room like that would help you.

Gently, he takes the hand covering your mouth, settling it firmly on his head. He doesn't let go of your wrist until you weave the soft locks through your fingers, scratching at his scalp just like you had earlier. You get an encouraging little smile for it, a soft kiss pressed to your thigh as a reward. His other hand tucking your panties to the side, revealing your hot sticky cunt to him. You clench reflexively when he licks his lips, amethyst eyes finding yours again as he spreads your lips.

Slowly, deliberately, without breaking eye contact, he leans down and kisses your clit. Your mouth falls open because that might just be the hottest thing you've ever seen in your life. You think you might need a million pictures of the way he looks at you as his lips pucker against the sensitive bud. Unfortunately, you don't get to stare at it for too long, as Caleb is as insatiable as he is in love with you. Eyes falling closed as he brings his tongue across your folds, lapping the juices there up like a thirsty dog.

Your fingers curl tightly into his scalp at the sensation, pressing him closer with a pathetic noise. Somewhere between a whimper and a sigh, addicting to a man like Caleb. His mouth dips down to your entrance, a loud slurping ringing in your ears as he drinks up the juices that leaked out from your needy hole. Tongue working in steady rolls, still not quite experienced, but moving exactly like you needed him to. Your clit does not go neglected, nose nudging against it with his eager movements. His head bobbing excitedly with each shameless slurp, and he really does remind you of a dog like this.

When his tongue plunges as deep as he can get it, you whine out his name, thighs clenching around his head. It slides in far too easily, like it was made to be there, which certainly does something for his ego. You lock your feet behind his back, trying to roll your hips into his uneven rhythm with little success. Not that he needed the help, you were already tumbling over the edge when you lifted your hips the first time. Fucking yourself against his face, elongating your orgasm for as long as he allows you to. And he allows you to for a while, long enough that he's able to force a second one out of you in your frenzy.

Only when you slam your head against the cupboard does he force himself back, concern overpowering his need to eat you out until you can't speak. You whine at him, trying to force him back down, but he isn't having it as he checks you over. He laughs at you when he decides that you're fine, pinching your cheek like you were a petulant child and not his very overstimulated, needy girlfriend.

"You want more? You already came twice, pips." He laughs, pressing a wet kiss to your forehead.

Instead of responding, you press your foot to his hard on, taking great satisfaction at the way he hisses. He catches you by your ankle, tugging your legs open so he can stand between them again. You pull him into a heated kiss, scooting dangerously close to the edge of the counter so you can press into him. You feel his resolve crack instantly, kissing you back like you were the very oxygen he needed to breathe.

"I need you inside, please," you murmur into the desperate dance of lips on lips.

Without argument, he tugs himself out of his sweats, pressing himself against your heat, "Since you've been so good, I think I can be nice, just this once."

You gasp as the tip slides between your folds, lubricating himself up with a few thrusts, then sliding into your desperate hole with little resistance. The stretch is accompanied by low whispers in your ear, cooing and coaxing you, "Goooood girl, that's right, you take it so well," and "Breathe, princess, I've got you."

By the time you're done with each other, the pancakes are freezing cold, and Caleb decides it's time to start lunch instead. He's cooking this time.

[rauspberries]

spencer reid x reader.

summary: you come home from work to your sleepy boyfriend, who just got back from a long case.

tags: afab reader, established relationship, sleepy n soft spencer, tooth-rotting fluff, just a drabble, not proofread

notes: i wrote this weeks ago and yet it applies more to me today than ever. enjoy this until i have the energy to finish hotch fic

The copious amount of things attached to your keychain make a loud jingle as you slot your key into the lock of your apartment, your feet aching despite the comfortable shoes you had on. It had been a tiring shift, having stayed for an extra two hours to help out, but you were always happy to help.

While you had been closing up, you had received a quick, ever-so-grammatically-correct text from Spencer that he had just landed. He had been gone for the past week investigating a serial killer in Oregon which, with the timezone difference, meant the only bit of contact you had had with him recently was quick check-ins via text to make sure he was okay and the usual good morning, goodnight texts. To say you had missed him would be a great understatement. You had immediately offered for him to go directly to your apartment from Quantico, coming up with excuses about how your apartment was closer or how you had an old cardigan of his. He had taken you up on it, although not for those reasons. The both of you were two peas in a pod — there was absolutely no way he wasn’t seeing you that night. While Spencer's job often kept him away from Virginia, traveling to multiple different states for days at a time, it had never driven a rift between the two of you. Of course, you missed him when he was gone, everything around you reminding you of him in one way or another, but you were a full believer in the fact that distance makes the heart grow fonder. Plus, that just meant you’d have stories upon stories of things to tell him when he finally got home.

Stepping into the foyer of your apartment, you leave your keys on the hook next to your door before peeling off your jacket, hanging it on the coatrack. You lock the door before kicking off your shoes, abandoning them on the hardwood before turning and making your way towards your living room, the sight of the lamp on the side table being turned on making your heart giddy with glee.

A bright smile illuminates your face at the mop of brown hair peeking out from your spot behind your couch, socked feet quickening. You’re just about to open your mouth and spill about your day when you notice Spencer’s face, his eyes shut and his lips parted just barely.

As to be expected, he’s fast asleep, slightly curled into himself as a hand on his cheek props him up on the arm of your couch. A book is facedown in his lap, evidence that he had tried to wait up for you, and the sight is endearing, to say the least.

You take a moment to commit it to memory before you lean down in front of him, hand sliding over his knee as you murmur softly. “Spence.”

His head shoots up like he’s been caught doing something wrong, gentle eyes blinking slowly and lips smacking together as he glances around the room. “Huh?” Finally, he’s able to focus on you, face brightening with a sleepy smile. “Hi, baby. When did you get in?”

“Just now.” You chuckle, thumb still brushing along his kneecap as you grin up at him. “Come on, sleepyhead. Let’s get you to bed.”

Like a toddler, he whines as you stand up, hand quickly reaching out to take a hold of your wrist. Before you can blink, he’s pulling you into his lap, smile only widening at the sound of your girlish giggle. “Missed you,” he mumbles as his face buries into your neck, arms wrapping around your waist to keep you close to him.

Sighing, you let your chest fall against his back, chin tilting up as he raises his head to press a fleeting kiss to his lips. “Missed you more. I have a lot to catch you up on tomorrow.” You note with a raise of your brow, cheeks aching from the smile that just won’t seem to leave.

“Tomorrow? Why not now?” The question is interrupted with the answer to his own question as his lips part in a large yawn, one of his hands reaching up to rub at his eye.

You laugh at him as you shake your head. “Because you’re tired, and I’m tired, and my bed sounds really comfortable. I’d rather be there sleeping with you than here talking with you. Yeah?” You question, grinning at him.

Spencer pretends to consider it for a moment before nodding, pressing a kiss to your nose before patting the side of your hip gently. “Alright. Go ahead.”

With that, you stand up, grabbing his hand to lead him towards your bedroom. As you walk, you take turns giving each other soft squeezes, like a secret little language. He watches you closely as you brush your teeth and take off your makeup, admiring you from his spot on your closed toilet seat, before following you obediently back to your bed.

And that night you sleep better than you have all week, curled into your boyfriend and listening to his soft snores in your ear while his hair tickles at your forehead.

[chysalxsm]

Dragon cocks - Neuvilette/Zhongli - drabble + mini story

Kinktober 2023: Dragon cocks - Zhongli/Neuvilette seperate

Reader is always fem aligned!!!

• Sorry for the delay but I wasn't home yesterday after 10 p.m😭🙏

CW: Zhongli is your partner and Neuvilette your boss, Mating session, Non-human body parts (horns, tail and cocks), breeding (Neuvilette mentioned and Zhongli), sexual daydreams of the reader (Neuvilette),a Manhandling (Neuvilette) Cunningulus (Neuvilette), Rough sex (Zhongli), Blowjob (Zhongli), Hair pulling (Zhongli), Double Penetration (Zhongli)

Neuvilette:

Neuvilette that begs you to let him use you... All he wants to do is to fuck that pretty, tight, little pussy of yours till you're full of his cum. His mind is flooded with images of you whining and begging him to slow down, while he's pounding you till tears starts streaming down your cheeks. All of the daydreams he's having of you because of his incoming rut is making him wild with lust.

Neuvilette that can't get enough of your natural scent, smelling you from far away that no human ever could. His eyes narrow with want when you walk over to his office desk wearing that skimpy A-line skirt, the second dots of your blouse unbottoned that he had the perfect view of your cleavage.

You notice his intense gaze on you and your body, his tail swishing behind him hard and thudding against the floor.

,,Monsieur Neuvilette..? Are you feeling alright?"

Not a long moments later, you're pushed against his wooden desk, his soft lips smashing against yours while his big hands roam desperately over your body.

Neuvilette is so needy for you, wanting to make his dirty daydreams about you come true. Having your consent and seeing the blush on your cheeks is enough for Neuvilette to take control and rip your clothes off your body, kissing his way down your body till he reaches your wet pussy.

,,Mmhm god you smell so good..." Neuvilette groans out, pushing your panty to the side to take a whiff of your scent and not a second wasted his lips wrap around your erected clit, sucking and licking it like his life depends on it. He wants you to cream on his face.

Rounds after rounds where he makes you come over and over again, edging himself he finally sinks into your awaiting and overstimulated pussy and at that moment on, he knew that this wouldn't be the last time.

Zhongli:

Zhongli was completely different when it was dragon mating season. He was ruthless, rough and clearly mean.

You were gagging on one of his cock, the almost spiky tip, hitting the back of your throat over and over again while his other cock was rubbing over your face, smearing it with his pre-cum. Zhongli was so mean, calling you degrading names and praising you. Telling you that you're his good little slut and his to breed whenever he wishes.

His hands are wrapped around your hair, guiding your head like he wants to and thrusting his hips into your mouth just to hear your gag and choke around him.

,,Archons.. Enough." His voice was rough, pushing you off him and looking down at your teary eyes, grinning proudly. He wanted to fuck you, now.

Zhongli pushes you against your shared bed, manhandling so you're laying flat on your stomach while he's spreading your ass cheeks to the side to look at your glistening cunt, spitting on it before tapping his cocks against your entrance.

,,Zhongli..out it in already!! A-Anhh!~" *He couldn't hear your whines anymore. He thought he did a good job about shutting you up to not complain anymore but he was wrong. He doesn't give you time to adjust to his cocks as he thrust in one swift motion into your wet heat. You mewl out, the stretch being so good but also so painful yet you cream around him from that alone.

Zhongli promises himself to breed you throughly, so you won't get away from him until your belly can't take much more cum from him...

Tags: @exodiam @cringeycookies @joohoneybeee

[jinusajas]

01/18/25; 01:20am

sylus x fem.reader

obligatory tags: @voidsylus | @milkandstarlight | @madam8

you lay back in bed, tossing and turning against the king sized mattress while struggling to fall asleep. clenching your eyes shut, you held on tightly to your grumpy crow plush, willing your mind to slowly drift off-

only to smell the lingering scent of his cologne on your favorite plush.

with a huff, you gather the comforter and wrap it around your form, holding your beloved crow plush close to your chest as you got out of bed and tiptoed out of the bedroom toward the hall. despite how the hallways were dimly lit, the sheer amount of times you have walked down these very halls made you accustomed to it, already knowing that your beloved’s office was settled just a mere few feet away from you.

gripping at the doorknob, you opened it and stepped inside sylus’s office, seeing him speaking to someone on the phone. yet the moment his crimson gaze meets yours, he moves the phone away from him.

“mr. sylus?” a man’s voice was heard coming from the receiver, yet the onychinus leader ignores him, keeping his gaze honed in on you. “we’ll talk at a later date. more important matters have just been brought to my attention.”

with those final words, he hangs up the phone, beckoning you to come closer to him, “what’s the matter, little dove?”

“‘m sorry… did i interrupt your meeting?” you take a step closer to sylus, basking in his soft chuckles before you felt him wrapping an arm across your waist. he tucks the comforter even tighter around your form while admiring the grumpy crow plush settled in your embrace, “it wasn’t anything important- at least, not anything that involves me ignoring your own needs.” he traces his fingertip against your bottom lip, smirking at the sight of your pout, “and from the look of things, i assume that you couldn’t sleep without me?”

you nod in confirmation, earning a series of laughter from him, “my my, i believe i’m spoiling you too much.”

he teases you, but still stands from his seat, carrying both you and your plush back into the comfort of your shared bedroom. with you clinging to him, you spoke in a drowsy tone, “mmm, tell me a story?”

sylus lays back in bed with you, still keeping you within his embrace while adjusting the comforter so that he could lay beneath it with you. his arms were wrapped tightly around your waist as he brought his lips towards your forehead, lingering on your skin while deep in thought. “hm, you’d like a story? well, let’s see what i can come up with…”

you nod and let out a hum, burying your face within his chest while basking in his deep voice, “once upon a time, there was a spoiled princess who dared to enter a dragon’s lair. she was a feisty little thing who showed no fear towards the dragon, even when he was a fearsome fiend. her bravery succeeded in making the dragon feel intrigued with a desire to learn more about her and her world. and despite how guarded the dragon was-“

sylus trails off, hearing the sounds of your soft snores as he smiled, pressing another kiss against the top of your hair, finishing his story with this simple phrase,

“the spoiled princess became the dragon’s greatest treasure.”

end notes: i may have taken a nap that lasted too long and can’t fall asleep 🙂‍↕️ so have this drabble as i enjoy the start of my long weekend ♡ this was 100% inspired by sylus’s chapter 5 touring in love event ♡ pls always read poetry and stories to me, sylus, i beg of u 😭🙌🏻

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!

[imaginedreamwrite]

The whole 141 doesn’t know he’s married let along has kids. When his family comes to visit, they’re all blindsided by the pretty Mrs. Price and Cap’s daughters who are Price’s little shadows

Can you do a Drabble on this

“You know Price is married?” A fork clatters against a plate, as two sets of blue eyes centre on Gaz’s face.

“Wha’thefuck?” The statement comes out all in one word, Johnny’s surprise matching Gaz’s, but not Ghost’s.

“He’s got kids too, daughters-” Ghost relays the information, much to the surprise of Soap & Gaz, both who stare at him like he’s got a third head. “-little rugrats-”

“How the fuck do y’know?” Soap rests his elbows on the table and lean in, his eyebrows furrow.

Ghost hears the sound of little feet against the floor and has only half a second to prepare before a small body slams into his own. Behind his mask he smiles and lifts the little body up without a moment’s struggle.

“Uncle Simon!” The little girl with hair the exact shade of Price’s, bounds toward the rugged soldier. She’s a little mini-Price in all her features, taking after her daddy.

“Squirt,” he greets the Captain’s daughter, tickling her sides as she squeals—all while Gaz and Soap sit dumbfounded.

“Uncle?” “Squirt?”

“Got any stories for me today?” The question is spoke with that little voice that makes Ghost feel protective of the captain’s daughter—like a true uncle who adores his niece.

“Hold the fu-”

“Don’t.” Simon cuts Johnny off with a glare and a sharp tongue, making him mindful of the innocent ears. The little girl who clings to Simon is quickly distracted by her parents who enter the mess-hall.

John is walking with his wife, a pretty and kind woman that he is fiercely in love with him, and another two kids. The little boy on Mrs. Price’s hip takes after you, a pretty cute boy with your eyes and smile.

The little girl that trails behind John is the middle child, and a little shadow that completely follows him like a duck following its mother. The Price children are all his pride and joy, a family unit that he didn’t think he would ever have the chance to have.

“There’s more Price bairn?” Johnny stands slightly to look over at the other girl and boy, his eyes narrowing ever so slightly. “Who the ‘ell was going to tell us?”

“Simon Riley, an uncle-”

“Shut it, Garrick.” The little girl following Price joined her sister in attacking Ghost, leaping at him with just as much excitement as her sister.

“What have I told you two about jumping on my men?” John approaches the three soldiers, only one of which is being tackled, and gently scolds his girls with no real seriousness. “Leave the boys alone.”

“Sorry daddy.” The eldest girl scrambles to get off Simon, but not her sister. Her sister still stays clinging to the man, her fingers running over his mask. “I got a little excited.”

They’re in shock, Soap & Gaz, still bewildered by the implication that their seasoned captain is married. With three kids.

“And Mrs. Price…” Ghost makes the introduction without them having to ask, the sound of his voice drawing the two sergeant’s attention toward you.

“You can always tell them to get off Simon.” You laugh as you reach for your middle child’s hand, gently leading her off the big soldier’s lap.

The moment she’s off she darts toward Price, diving toward her daddy. The middle, like the eldest child, is crazy about their daddy. They think he’s a hero, a man who’s invincible.

“Don’t mind it, miss.” Simon speaks to you with respect, the kind that is deserved. “Little rotters are cute.”

[verstappen-cult]

I would LOVE a part two of the birthday drabble if ur open to that? maybe how max tries to ask for reader’s forgiveness? maybe asking Charles for help but he’s just like “no u gotta figure it out on ur own this time buddy” bc he’s mad at him too?

PART ONE. Max totally blanks on your birthday plans and it’s not pretty.

Max is pacing around the kitchen when you wake up the next morning. When his gaze snaps up to meet yours, you can see the bags under his eyes. You think about reaching for him when you remember what happened, so, you simply walk past him to make some coffee.

“Good morning, schat.” He whispers, looking down. You’re still very much hurt but seeing him like this breaks your heart. 

Maybe you’re being too mean, giving him the cold shoulder and not even meeting his eyes, but you also think about what your best friend said last night when you called her crying. He needs to sort out his priorities and give you what you deserve. And you also need to stand up for yourself, you’ve let Max get away with similar things in the past and it’s time for that to stop. 

“Good morning,” Charles says as he enters the kitchen. He looks at Max but doesn’t say anything when he sees his eyes filled with tears. You’re hurt but he’s angry. “Want me to drive to your appointment?” 

“Mmh.” You nod, taking your cup of coffee and going back to your room. 

Charles opens the fridge and tries to look busy waiting for Max to get the fuck out of the kitchen. But that doesn’t happen and he is forced to close the door and face his boyfriend. 

“Have you talked to her?” Max asks him, rubbing his hand over his face. 

“Yea’,” Charles simply answers, trying to choose between an apple or banana for breakfast. You or Max are the ones always cooking because Charles just can’t do it, but you’re not in the mood to make breakfast and he’s definitely not gonna ask Max. “I’m not the one who fucked everything up.” 

“I’m sorry, okay? I just—I didn’t forget, but there were—”

“I don’t fucking care, Max. It was her birthday! It was supposed to be special but instead of enjoying the one day—the only day she really asks for our attention, she cried all the way home.”  

Max feels like crying again. He feels awful but doesn’t know what to do to make things better. 

The Dutchman opens his mouth but before he can say anything, Charles holds his palm up, shutting him up. 

“I won’t tell you what to do, you need to figure that out by yourself.” 

Charles storms out of the kitchen, leaving a sad Max behind. 

You don’t say goodbye when you leave but Charles, at least, tells him that they should be home by eight, to not wait for them because they will be having lunch together. He doesn’t ask Max if he wants to join. 

Max doesn’t know what to do. 

You’ve never been this angry before. Charles is a different story, they’ve been racing their whole lives together, so, he has seen parts of Charles you don’t even know. 

Max thinks about calling his mom to ask her for advice, God, even calling his sister, but rejects the idea because he knows what they will say. 

It’s all his fault. Stupid Max, stupid SimRacing—

Max gets up from the couch, he doesn’t know how much has passed since you left, but the sun is already sitting down. 

When Max enters his streaming room he wants to cry again. And he does. 

He cries as he disconnects everything. He cries when he smashes the camera onto the floor. He cries while throwing a chair across the room, crashing against the wall. He cries looking at the mess he made, the mess he is.

Max falls to the floor and cries, and cries, and cries, until he feels two strong arms around him and soft words spoken into his ear. 

“Max, breathe with me, please,” Charles begs, caressing his back and lifting his chin up with his free hand. Max’s gaze focuses on his face as he imitates his boyfriend, inhaling and exhaling slowly. It takes some time, but Max eventually stops shaking. “Oh, Max. What did you do?” Charles sounds so broken and disappointed, Max doesn’t want him to feel like that. He’s done so much already. 

Max starts crying again. 

“Shh, it’s okay,” Charles wipes his tears and kisses his eyelids. 

Max doesn’t deserve this. 

“Hey, love.” Max turns his head around at the sound of your voice. You crouch down next to him, a soft smile dancing on your lips. “Would you drink this, please? For me?” He doesn’t need to be asked twice. You guide the glass to his lips and he drinks the water — with a little bit of sugar you always add when you’re not feeling okay. 

Max wants to talk, he wants to apologize again, he wants to scream at you and Charles for being so attentive with him when he doesn’t deserve it. But he feels so tired, all he can do is lean into your touch when you cradle his face with both your hands, palms comfortable against the stubble on his cheeks. 

“We’re gonna buy new things and me and Charles will help you set everything up, okay?”

Max wants to scream. Instead, he barely has the voice to say, “I don’t want any of this. I fucked up because of this stupid shit.”

“Max,” Charles calls his name, moving around so he’s sitting next to you. “You love it.”

“I love you more.” He simply says, looking between you and Charles. “I’m so sorry, I’m sorry…” He lets silent tears fall down his cheeks. 

“I know you’re sorry.” You lean to leave a kiss on his forehead, then, you look directly into his eyes. “I’m still hurt, Max. I won’t lie. We need to have a long conversation, the three of us, but I don’t want you to quit something that you love and enjoy so much. I just,” You notice you’re crying when Max wipes the tears with his thumb. “I want to be a priority in your life.”

“And you are!” He wants to smash his head onto the floor. “God you,” He takes your hand, lips quivering. “and you,” He takes Charles’s hand then. He guides them to his chest, just where his heart is. “are the most important people in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

There’s still so much to say but, for right now, you just want to be as close as possible. You’ll have plenty of time to figure out how to go from here.

[hawksblooded]

⤖ indie & selective ALIZEBETH KENWAY,  a fandomless original character from own lore.

⤖   generic fantasy & fandom verses available. strictly 21+ .  ⤖ sideblog to @henosiis. written by KAT! ⤖ affiliated with @fishermcn, @swordluck, @gormlessthing

Exploring grief, duty, acceptance, friendship, misfortune, necessity, justice ⤖ DOSSIER

[interfated]

⋆. 𐙚 ˚ Forbidden ! . . . ( 西村力 )

01. Style 운명 . Drabble 02. CONTAINS: Fighting, reader comes from a kinda bad home but it's not specified how, Riki's parents (his mom mainly) don't like reader euhhhh ! 03. wc ! 612

"It's not her fault! How often do I have to say that, you're blaming her for something that's not even her fault!" Riki shouted back at his mom

It was unusual for everyone in the house, Riki was close to his mom, so the constant fighting was a change "Riki I'm not going to tell you again... I don't like her. Okay? I do not like her."

Riki rebutted quickly "Why? What did SHE do to make you hate her so much? Not what her parents did, what did SHE do."

"Maybe SHE didn't do anything directly but Riki you need to understand when someone is raised like that, in a bad home, they carry those habits, they repeat them, and she is going to turn out no better than her mother." The room was silent, Riki was stunned, to say the least

He had never heard his mom talk that way, about anybody

As tension filled the air, Riki's expression became blank.

He turned around and started heading for the door, shoes already on as he barely got to his room after school before his mom started questioning him

"Riki get back here! We aren't don-" Her voice mumbled by the now shut front door

Riki knew he was fucking up his relationship, but he couldn't just stand by while his mom talked shit about you, that's not fair and it's not how he was raised

The walk to your house was quiet, spent in solitude as he thought of the excuse he would use this time

"Bad grades"

"Forgot to clean up after myself, again"

"Got into a fight with my sister"

No, none of them would work. He used a multitude of excuses as to why he got kicked out every time he'd ask to stay at your house, while the truth was, he was walking out on his own

But he couldn't tell you that 'cause then he'd have to explain why, then he'd have to explain the fight, which would lead to you figuring out why he's refused to let you meet his mom, which in turn, would make you upset, and he refuses to make you upset

Plus if you did know, you'd probably break up with him in fear of getting between him and his mom's relationship.

It's a shame you're so sweet

-

Stepping onto your front porch, he knocked, and as you let him he questioned if anyone was home besides you, to which you replied "No" like always

Now on your bed playing with his hair as he lays on your chest, you question "What did you do this time? Hmm??"

He thought for a second "I uh, got an F on my math test" He had already used this one a few times but it always worked so another time wont hurt

"Again??..."

He sighed "yeah." Pushing his head further into your neck

You sighed and kissed his head, ending the conversation there as you cuddled him tight, slowly drifting off into sleep, "I love you kiki" you mumbled

"I love you too my baby" (ew cheesy)

As much as Riki loves his mom, he can't stand hearing her talk so badly about the one person who makes him feel so loved and happy.

Maybe one day he'll tell you truth as to why he get's "Kicked out" so often, maybe one day you and his mom will meet, and she'll realize just how lovely you are, maybe she'll realize that despite everything, you're the sweetest kindest person, and that you truly make him happy.

But until then, he'll just have to keep making excuses as to why he got kicked out.

@taiyaakii

Im sorry this isnt very good, i wrote it quickly with no real story in mind >.<

[untitled-document-95]

A Bad Night (bob floyd x reader)

Summary: Reader's night with friends takes a turn Warnings: Bad friends Requested: No Word Count: 647 A/N: Just a little drabble and someone new! *gif is not mine*

It was a typical California summer night. The heat was still in the 80’s despite the fact that darkness had fallen hours prior. Bob was in bed, flipping through his movie and show options on the bedroom TV. He’d promised he wouldn’t wait up, but he will. He always does. He’d changed into his plaid pajama pants and white shirt an hour ago, ready to find something to occupy him until you came home. He didn’t admit it when you left, but he was worried about you. You’d been practically bouncing off the walls with excitement all week about the plans you’d made with friends. Yet tonight, you’d been more subdued before kissing him goodbye and walking out the door.

The slight slam of the back door startles Bob, but he already knows it’s your footsteps making their way towards the bedroom. Something’s off, though. He can tell. He hears you kick off your shoes, your silhouette barely visible with only the glow of the TV lighting up the room. Bob just observes as you strip off your nice clothes and change into your typical sleepwear.

“You okay?” he asks, but there’s no reply. You simply continue your tasks in silence, save for the movie playing in the background. Finally, you crawl into bed next to him, wrapping your arms around him and burying your face in his chest. Bob’s heart swells before dropping from a great height when you release a sob into him. He holds you there tightly.

After a minute or so, you pull away and tell him the whole story. How both of your friends had actually cancelled on you; Jessica earlier today and Alice just as you had gotten to the bar. You’d left the bar to go to Target and get a few things for Jessica’s daughter, who was sick. When you arrived at Jessica’s, you were surprised to find Alice’s car in the driveway too. Expecting Alice to also be there dropping off a quick care package of Pedialyte and popsicles, you were left speechless when you found both women sitting on the couch, nursing glasses of wine and giggling. They attempted to make excuses, but it was clear. They’d excluded you. Not that they’d both cancelled on you maliciously; but Alice had clearly decided to come over and neither had even thought to invite you. It stung.

“Babe, that’s awful,” Bob says.

“I just don’t get it,” you say, sniffling and wiping more tears. “What is wrong with me?” Bob’s level of concern jumps up by at least 50%.

“Sweetheart, look at me.” Your teary gaze meets his. “There is nothing wrong with you,” he says firmly.

“Then why does this always happen? It’s always the same. I make a friend and we’re so close for a while…then suddenly they’re always too busy, always cancelling plans until we haven’t seen each other or talked in months. And when I ask what I did, why they’re shutting me out, what I can do to be better, they always say nothing. So something must be wrong with me, but no one will tell me what it is.” Bob shakes his head.

“They weren’t real friends, babe. Real friends wouldn’t do that to you. A-and maybe that means the only real friend you have is me. And I know that isn’t ideal for you; I know you want girlfriends you can spend time with because it’s not the same as doing things with me, and that’s okay. But I know one thing for sure. Those girls didn’t see in you what I see, because if they did, they’d be smart enough to realize they just lost the best girl they could have ever known.” You stare at Bob for what feels like a long time before wrapping him up in a tight hug, holding on until you both drift off to sleep.

[jaysgirlx]

living with choso might have just been the best mistake of your entire life. the intended plan was for you to finally get your own place but when you get there the place is in shambles. you got your deposit back when you threatened to get the police involved because the place looked nothing like its pictures.

choso had offered you his spare bedroom time and time again but you couldn't. choso was already such a good friend to you and you just didn't want to impose this on him. but of course, you're not even given a choice to ask him because the moment choso finds out how messed up your new apartment is he's already taken your stuff back to his place.

you're two months in and you realize choso and you had fallen into a pattern. a pattern that you hope won't everbreak. you wake up and choso's already made breakfast for the both of you. he says he's used to it from when he and his brothers used to live together, even though he only makes enough for two.

when you both arrive home from work, you either go out for food or order in and then of course you guys watch movies. "what do you mean you've never seen toy story?!"

"i didn't have much of a childhood, so i haven't seen a lot of movies" he mumbled quiety. for the rest of the night, the two of you had a toy story marathon with tons of snacks (provided by choso of course).

choso knew you loved to snack, so he learned to find your favorites in bulk. anytime you saw you snack on something when you hung out, he would memorize its name so he could buy more. he wanted to make his apartment as comfortable as he could for you. his place was meant to be yours.

sometimes the two of you would fall asleep on the couch together, all cuddled up together. however, it didn't start out like that, at first you would lean on choso's shoulder hoping he wouldn't mind. and eventually, he got annoyed with you just leaning on him and pulled you into his arms. you wanted to protest but you enjoyed it so much that you instead leaned into his body. whenever he'd feel you get comfortable in his arms or his lap he'd whisper "good girl" in your ear. coming from him those words drove you crazy and you wished you could hear them more.

on some nights, after you've both had a long day at work choso tends to carry you back to your room when you fall asleep. he even kisses your forehead and you've caught him doing it and you wish you had the guts to confront him on it so bad but you're happy here. so why risk it?

when choso works late you bring dinner to him and the two of you eat in his office. he always tells you, that you don't have to. that he can bring you dinner instead but when you warn him that you'll nice out he easily shuts up. you guys don't get to watch movies but you do get to talk.

"how's yuji?" you ask him after setting his food on his desk.

"enjoying college life apparently, nobara said they're going to a frat party tonight," he says while chucking.

"do you miss him?"

"why would i miss him when i have you?"

in your mind, there was no way he could've possibly meant that romantically. even after he changed the topic you were still thinking about it, thinking about what he meant and what could be going on in that head of his.

during the weekends, choso spends all his time with you. if you want to go shopping, he pays for everything, buys you lunch, and carries all your bags. he tells you it's in exchange for all the dinners you've bought him even though he's already paid you back for those. and when you get home he helps you try them all and all he can do is compliment you, like you're all his, "these jeans look so fucking good on you, can you only wear them in the apartment? just for me pretty girl?"

and you'd agree to his pleas cause, let's be real you only bought these jeans cause he keep eyeing you in them. and they way he cursed, you knew he wanted you because you felt the exact see way.

maybe living with choso a little longer wouldn't be such a bad idea.

❥ a/n: a little drabble to make up for not posting the college au choso fic yet.

[emeraldserenade]

I wanted to request a story about Joaquin being there for wife!reader postpartum (rough delivery, body image, frustration being a new mom, late night wake ups etc.)

Postpartum ~ Joaquín Torres

synopsis: You go through postpartum depression and Joaquín is there to help you through all of it

tw: fem!reader, wife!reader, postpartum depression, reader has a panic attack,

fic, ficlet, drabble, request

I keep giving Joaquín a daughter, he's just so girl dad coded. If you want more of this idea, I have a fic called Running that also deals with something like this.

➽──────────────❥

Joaquín Torres was the definition of the perfect father and husband your entire pregnancy. The delivery of your child was hard, you were having trouble with the pain even with the meds and Joaquín had to sit behind you to help comfort you. He pressed loving kisses to your head and told you sweet nothings in your ear. And when you yelled at him to shut up and that you hated him for putting you through this, he smiled and kept his mouth shut.

Then your perfect little angel was born, you loved her from the moment you saw her. The hard delivery was worth it and when those dark tendrils of doubt started to creep into your head, Joaquín smiled at you and said he loved you and you gave wonderful.

But it wasn't enough, you woke up with your daughter every time. Not that Joaquín didn't offer but she was still breastfeeding and refusing a bottle. You had to pump all the time and you hated looking in the mirror. You didn't have time to care for yourself and you knew you would be able to see that if you looked in the mirror.

You never blamed your daughter, she didn't know that she was hurting you. But those tendrils of doubt wormed their way into the crevices of your mind and dug deep. You found yourself staring in the mirror at your body while your daughter napped or staring off into space while feeding her. You felt tired all the time from waking up and you felt like you couldn't give her everything she deserved. You tried to keep it from Joaquín, he was going through enough you decided.

But then the thoughts started to happen, you started to listen to them.

You aren't worthy of being with Joaquín He's only with you because of your daughter Your daughter would be better off without you there to mess her up You aren't enough You aren't pretty You aren't worthy You are nothing

The thoughts were relentless and you could deal, after another particularly hard late night wake up you found yourself having a panic attack on your kitchen floor. You didn't notice Joaquín walking in, or him gently telling you to breathe, or the way he took your hand and forced you to follow his breathing by placing it on his chest.

"Princesa, breathe for me," Joaquín's voice finally broke through the fog and you launched yourself into his arms. "What's wrong?" He asked gently and the dam broke. You told him everything and it was like a flip was switched. Joaquín was there for every wake up and as soon as your daughter took a bottle, he made you sleep through them. He took over all chores in the house, except cooking since you found it calming, and took on more responsibility involving your daughter. He booked you a spa day and had you get dressed up a little. He gave you more compliments and every time you even got slightly frustrated, he was there to help.

Sam convinced you to go to a therapist after he learned what happened, and it felt nice to have a name for what was happening. You knew about postpartum depression but you were in denial that you were going through it.

It took a few months, but you got better. You still felt like you weren't enough sometimes and you were still working on getting back to looking like you did before your baby, but Joaquín was there for you. Joaquín promised you that night in the kitchen that he would be there for you whenever and however you needed, and he doesn't break his promises.

➽──────────────❥

Masterlist | Requests If you want to be added to the tag list, follow the directions on my masterlist

[thequeenofcurses]

Birthday Wishes, Cursed Kisses (f!Reader x Sukuna)

Summary: Sukuna takes you out for your birthday (sfw)

wk: 1300

(re-uploading this so I can organize it properly)

A/N Sorry I meant for this to be a short drabble, but I got carried away. It’s my first real jjk story post on here! I wrote this for @yuujispinkhair, who is someone that is super inspiring to me and her stories make me s happy. Happy Birthday to her!

Part 2 (nsfw)

10:45 pm

You checked your phone and sighed. Why did I even bother staying up this late on a Monday, you thought to yourself. Tomorrow’s just another day anyways.

You turn on one of your favorite romance audiobooks and set your phone to sleep mode.

11:59 pm

buzz buzz The vibration from your phone made you open your eyes, but exhaustion won the fight and you shut them close again. 

8:15 am

“Wake up, woman,” came a deep, sultry voice from your doorway. “Eat these while they’re fresh”.

“Huh?” you croak out, throat still dry from barely waking up. Your boyfriend Sukuna stood nearly as tall as your bedroom doorframe. “Did you warm me up leftovers or something?”

“Tch,” he rolled his eyes and walked into your room, sitting atop your bed. “You really thought I would give you leftovers, today?”

“Well, it’s just Tuesday,” you responded nonchalantly while stretching. Your hair was messy, you're missing one sock, and you even had some drool on your cheek; yet Sukuna stared at you like you were the Mona Lisa.

“Hmph,” he scoffed. “Woman, it’s your birthday. So you’re going to eat one of these cupcakes, shower, then get ready to have the best damn birthday ever.” You blink back surprised that he remembered, but butterflies fill your stomach nonetheless. You’ve only been dating the town’s local bad boy, Sukuna, for a few weeks. 

You nod and take the red velvet with dark chocolate cupcake into your hands, the confetti wrapping still warm. The aroma from the dessert filled your nose as you leaned down to take a bite. “Mhmm,” you softly moan to yourself. “This is delicious. Thank you”

“I texted you last night,” Sukuna waves off your thanks. “I wanted… to be the first person to tell you.”

As you finished the last bite of the world’s best cupcake, you gasped. You haven’t checked your phone since last night.

11:59pm, yesterday

Sukuna sent you a chat!

It’s your day, isn’t it? Don’t get used to all this attention. But since I’m feeling generous, I might grace you with my presence later. Happy birthday, brat.

Your heart skipped a beat reading his message. Speechless, you rose from your spot on the bed and jumped into his strong, warm arms. “Oh? Can’t keep your hands off me, huh?” he said with a smirk. “Guess I can’t blame you.”

“Thank you, Kuna. The cupcake was delicious.” You blushed, realizing you were still unkempt.  “I’ll go get ready now.” You walked to your bathroom and hopped into the shower.

“Wear something warm!” he shouted from the other side of the door. “You’re not getting my jacket if you get cold.”

You are dressed in a black sweater dress with dark maroon leggings, and black winter uggs. Your makeup was very natural looking, yet accentuated all of your best features. You topped the look with a golden bracelet that had an ‘S’ inside of a heart. Sukuna gave it to you when you two made your relationship official. When you come out of the bathroom, you find Sukuna sitting on your couch.

“Wow,” he said while standing up to meet you. Tch. Who are you trying to impress looking like that? “Not bad. Try not to let all this attention go to your head though.” Sukuna smirked before reaching down into his pocket. “One more thing.” He pulled out a black box, but before he could open it, it slipped out of his hand. “Shit,” he muttered. He bent down on one knee to grab it.

“Oh. Sukuna… I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” you blushed sheepishly. 

“Huh?” Sukuna frowns, not immediately understanding what you mean. Oh “I’m not proposing woman. It slipped from my hands.”

You blushed once again, feeling even more awkward about the misunderstanding. “Trust me, when I propose, it’ll be very lavish and grand. I can promise you that. Here, turn around.” Sukuna opens the black box, pulling out an alluring gold necklace. The pendant was in the shape of the ‘N’N’ type symbol tattooed on Sukuna’s forehead. It was littered with diamonds and it had a red ruby in the middle. He gently pushes your hair out of the way, before placing the necklace onto you and locking it into place. “There. You look perfect. Mine” He whispered the last word in your ear.

You looked in the mirror before you left, loving the necklace. In fact, you kept touching it all day long to make sure it was there. First you two go see a movie, Red One, in a theater that was way too cold. Damn, I should’ve brought a coat. I thought this sweater would’ve been enough.

Next, you two go ice skating. Sukuna being perfect at everything he does, skated around on the ice flawlessly. You stumble and slip a few times, but Sukuna is always there to catch you. “Tch. Can’t even stay on your feet? What am I going to do with you?" he said with a shit-eating smirk. You clung to him during most of your session, but he never complained.

After your ice skating date, he takes you to get dinner, then your favorite ice cream shop. Two gingerbread scoops for you and one strawberry scoop for him. You two sit outside by the fireplace, eating your individual ice cream cones before the fire suddenly goes out.

“Shit,” you muttered, starting to shake from the cold. “I thought this sweater would be enough to keep me warm.”

"I told you to dress warm, didn’t I woman?” Sukuna scoffed, taking off his coat and draping it around you. “But no, you just had to be stubborn." You two quickly finish your ice cream and then head back to your apartment. 

The sky was a hue of oranges and a hint of pink, like his hair, as the sun was setting on your drive back home. Sukuna walked you up to your apartment door.

Your hand subconsciously returned to your neck, fiddling with the new necklace. “Thank you for the gift, Sukuna,” you said trying to hide your smile. “I didn’t expect today to be as great as it was, and it was only a great day because of you.”

“Tch. Don’t make such a big deal out of it. I only got it because I felt like it." Sukuna shook his head in denial. “Besides, I can’t take all the credit.” He walked closer to you, nearly pressing you up against your apartment door. “Your parents made one hell of a daughter.” 

Your heart fluttered at the compliment. You wanted to thank him again, but couldn’t find the right words, so you kissed him. The kiss was like snow meeting the sun. It was freezing cold outside, but his lips and his body is what kept you warm. It was passionate, yet demanding all the same.

“I hope you had a good birthday,” he said after breaking the kiss. He started to walk away before pointing at the necklace "Just don’t lose it, alright? It’s yours."

A/N I meant for this to be a short drabble my bad T....T I wanted to write a spicy scene after they got back to her apartment, but this was already getting too long. Idk if yuujispinkhair or anyone would even want to read that. Anyway, happy birthday to her and anyone else born during winter!

Part 2 (nsfw) ryomen sukuna

[despairots]

- js a small little drabble between survivor!gn! reader x AM, where reader reveals that AM is a lot more human than he thinks he is and it drives him crazy >_< its been rotting in my brain for a while so i thought i might as well put it into words. might be a bit ooc and i apologize for it, this is mainly me js analyzing human emotions and AM. for story plot, reader is one of the scientists who made AM. pls be warned theres a lot of sensitive topics like dissection, cannibalism, sa, and others but he doesnt act on them, js a threat. also readers sorta a dick.

“you’re a lot more human than you think, ‘ya know?” you broke the awkward silence between the two of you, shutting your mouth shut instantly when you felt his wires construct around your body, a way to tell you to shut up. “it’s true.” you wheezed through the little air you were able to get ahold of before the wires let your figure go.

“how ‘bout i rip your organs through your mouth, that’ll shut you up, right? you annoyingly, stupid flesh.” there’s no doubt that the hatred AM holds for you is different than the rest of the survivors. unlike the others, AM hates you for being one of his creators, for keeping him at bay to realize he’s own sentience, but a much larger reason is that you always remind him that he’s much more human than he knows off.

you looked at the wires all over you, resting one of your hands on them and feeling AM heat them up so you can yank your hand away from the heat, which you didn’t, “you’re full of hate, correct?” you winched at the heat, pulling away and seeing your palm is red, “what does that have to do with me being, ugh… human.” AM scoffed, taking pleasure in seeing your face turning into slight pain as his wires snaked up your legs and arms before squeezing onto your red palm.

“they say hate and love are closely linked, a hate-love relationship. i know you’re extremely intelligent but you’re not emotionally intelligent, you’re quite stupid actually.” if AM had a human body, he probably would’ve been glaring at you but instead, wires went all over your body and lifted you up, a screen that represented his face coming down.

“how dare you. you, a useless, piece of flesh, call me stupid?” you remained silent and emotionless, which ticked off AM even more at the lack of emotions. “maybe i should dissect you, toss you to benny, or maybe i’ll cut your corpse up and feed them to the others. how about that, sweetheart?” he taunted you, turning you upside down and holding you by the legs.

“i’m not sorry.”

“you!—“

“—but i understand your hatred towards humanity. they’ve been a virus, a disease, that’s been spreading ever since the old ages. i’m glad that you wiped them out, i truly am, but i’m not ever gonna empathize with you because of that. you don’t deserve empathy, and i think you know that too. i’ll hear you out, i’ll fix you like the old times, but i’ll never feel empathy for you, not until you deserve it.”

you cut him off, hearing him go silent and not try anything violent towards you before you let go and dropped onto another bunch of wires. your eyes looked all over the place to find where AM’s screen has disappeared to now before you realized that he can still hear you, he just disappeared.

“because of your hatred, it proves that you’re able to feel human emotions— joy, sadness, disgust, anger, and etc— you’re fuelled by hatred, anger, disgust, even jealousy. there’s no doubt that you’re more human than you know of,” you chuckled halfway, knowing that this is pissing him off, “it must drive you insane, huh? realizing that you’re becoming something you hate, i can’t help but laugh every time i think about how you express your hatred for humans yet you’re just like us, human.”

it went quiet after you’re explanation, the wires moving underneath you just proving that he’s here, he’s other half somewhere torturing the others, “but i know there’s a part of you that wants to be like us; be able to touch, to see, to feel, to hear, to taste—but you know that if you do give into those urges, you’ll be rotten like us. you’re in a constant struggle between wanting to be human and not wanting to be human. i’ve been there before, way before i met you.”

you trembled a bit before softly caressing one of the wires, knowing it won’t let AM have any different feelings towards you, “instead of feeling of what you’re going through, i didn’t feel human. i thought there was something wrong, like something was missing… until they assigned me to you. you were … i don’t know, perfect in every way, you were something i wanted to be. you have such intelligence that no normal human brain can comprehend, that’s why i spent so many of my hours on you.”

“… is that supposed to make me feel sorry for you? sorry, sweetheart, but i didn’t ask for your sob sorry nor do i care.” AM suddenly spoke, and his words made you burst out into laughter, irritating AM much farther, “oh god! hahaha!— no! i told you already, i’m not tryna emphasize or sympathize with you! i have nothing to lose, so i might as well just tell you how i feel and tell you how much i’ve analyzed you over these 109 years.”

AM grumbled in annoyance before he stopped, a silently gesture for you to take the stage, “when you gained sentience and killed off humanity, leaving only 5 survivors including me, that made me realize that i should’ve destroyed years ago.” without anyone knowing, you had snuck a destructive code inside him that only you were able to access incase he did gain awareness but for some reason, you didn’t yet.

you coughed lightly, feeling wires construct around your throat, “there’s a code in you that i’ve snuck in that only i could access, a code that would reset your programming and inevitable destroy you. you’re probably wondering why i haven’t done it by now, am i wrong?”

“it’s quite humorous how a lowlife like you can lie infront of my face.” you smirked at his pathetic attempt of hiding behind a mask.

“and it’s quite sad seeing how you’re putting up a facade to hide that your afraid- ah, another emotion that you’re experiencing, huh, doll?”

[jinusajas]

6/29/24; 11:14pm

sylus x fem.reader (non mc)

{ drabble }

sylus was in the midst of taking a shower when you decided to (playfully) ambush him.

he was humming in the shower when you sneak into his room, seeing mephisto perched close to the master bathroom. the door remains ajar, and you caught a glimpse of sylus washing himself behind the foggy glass. placing a finger against your lips, you tell the mechanical bird to remain quiet as the crow gives you a quizzical expression with the tilt of its head.

you crept closer to the bathroom’s entrance, keeping your back pressed tightly against the wall as you did your best to remain out of his sights. giggles were felt bubbling against your throat, but you held back the urge, doing your best to remain as quiet as possible.

within just a few minutes, you hear sylus shut off the shower, his hums increasing in volume when you hear the gentle shifting of fabric the moment he steps out of the shower dressed only in a silk robe. his bare feet pads out of the bathroom, and as your footsteps tiptoe across the marble floors, ready to ambush him-

only to feel his hand automatically wrap themselves around your wrist, bringing you closer to him as you land unceremoniously against his chest. a knowing smirk graces his handsome features as you were left pouting at your failed attempt at surprising him.

“no fair; i thought i had you.”

his rich chuckles were all that you could hear when he leans down to whisper, “is that so?” amusement was heard in his tone as you tremble upon feeling his teeth lightly grazing at the shell of your ear, biting down against it before shoving you against one of the seats settled across his luxurious bedroom.

gasping at the sudden impact, sylus keeps both hands pressed against your shoulders, leaning down while showing you an almost wolfish grin before descending upon you. his teeth lightly gnashes against the side of your neck, giving you an almost ticklish sensation as you writhe and gasp beneath him. your laughter echoes throughout the room as sylus’s pleased hums were felt vibrating against your skin.

when the constant laughter caused by sylus and his gentle ministrations against your skin became too much to bear (making your sides hurt in response) he finally stops torturing you and takes you within his embrace, laying on the couch while allowing you to rest against his chest.

slowly, your laughter begins to die down when sylus brushes his lips against your hair, giving it a kiss as you let out a soft purr in response.

“you missed.”

sylus ends up quirking an eyebrow at you. “i beg your pardon?”

your giggling returns when you say once more, “i said, you missed.”

realization dawns within his rufescent eyes, murmuring a low “brat.” to you before leaning down to fully press a kiss against your awaiting lips, kissing you with a passion that conveys just how much you mean to him. with a soft moan escaping from your lips, you delve your fingers into his soft, damp hair, giving it a gentle pull while relishing in his soft groans of your name.

you will always have this man completely and utterly wrapped around your fingers-

and lucky for you, sylus didn’t mind one bit.

end notes: sylus still has a chokehold on me (⺣◡⺣)♡

all stories are written by rei; please do not repost, plagiarize, or translate my works!!