#i need a drabbles tag

[julysn]

ponder [connor lassiter x ariana]

𝓢ynopsis ⋆ Ariana hears about the Akron AWOL. She has many thoughts.

𝓦ord 𝓬ount ⋆ ≈560

𝓘ncludes ariana feels guilt, mentions their relationship pre-unwind, probably ooc but i haven’t read the books in two years so that explains it

𝓝otes ⋆ hi :3 uhh idk. thinking a lot about conari. this is my interpretation of them. posting this while i’m supposed to be in spanish ngl.

this is kinda bad so be gentle

Ariana just doesn’t know how to feel.

She sits on the couch beside her parents, eyes glued to the television, her heart heavy. The news was broadcasting a brand new story, one about someone she knew—quite well, actually.

Connor.

He was everywhere—newspapers, magazines, the news, social media, absolutely everywhere. No matter what Ariana did, she couldn’t escape him. It was like he was haunting her, haunting her decision to stay back and not run away with him.

And now, all she can feel is.. nothing.

She doesn’t know what to feel, how to feel, and why she should feel in particular.

No one else had been in such a position before. Her ex-boyfriend, one she didn’t know if she truly loved, had an unwind order signed due to his misfit activities, and now he was famous. Famous for being so bold to shoot a juvey-cop with his own tranquilizer gun.

Where was he? Where had he even gone? Had he went into hiding, or was he on the run? Did someone find him and take him in?

She was worried. Yes, their relationship wasn't too serious—they never planned on getting married, they weren't truly in love. It was your typical teenage romance, yet.. she felt guilt begin to pool in the bottom of her heart.

Ariana could've gone with him.

She had responsibilities, things she had to do, and goals in life that could never be fulfilled if she had gone with him. But a part of her wondered.. what would have happened if she had gone with him? Would the entire juvey-cop-tranq-gun incident have happened? Would they have been caught immediately, and him get sent to be unwound? Would they have been able to go into hiding and stay as a couple for the rest of their lives?

Would they have been happy?

Their relationship before he went AWOL was fine. Typical, one might say. They spent time together, shared kisses, cuddled sometimes, and hugged. He had bought her gifts, and she did the same, even if her parents didn't particularly like her dating a misfit child.

Lost in thought, she excuses herself from the couch, unable to watch the news broadcast anymore. She didn't want to hear about the Akron AWOL. She didn't want to hear about the successful escape of Connor Lassiter.

Ariana trudges upstairs, moving slowly as she lets the news sink in. She couldn't process it, what was happening?

She shakes her head and heaves a sigh, pushing her bedroom door open and gently shutting it behind her. Then, she flops down on her bed, grabs a pillow, and buries her face into the soft plush, feeling her necklace press into her skin.

She looks down. It's a necklace that Connor had bought her for her birthday. She remembered what he had told her—he scraped some money together from his dwindling allowance to buy it for her. It was cheap, from Walmart, but it showed that he cared about her birthday. It was sweet.

Her eyes dart over to the whiteboard pinned up above her desk, notes about assignments scribbled in expo marker, polaroid pictures of her and Connor stuck to it with heart magnets. Pictures of them happy, pictures of them embracing, pictures of them sharing a light kiss.

Concern clouds her emotions, and before she knows it, she's crying.

Crying for a guy who was sent to be unwound.

[pixxlotl]

Going with the "Grian is the one who designed this game as opposed to the others" headcanon, it makes you think about the superpowers he gave his friends, how they were all laughing and having fun in the beginning, and that was intentional. It goes to show that even when forced to design the death game his friends are put through (a punishment for trying to usurp the Watchers time and time again), he still cares. They all know he's the one who designed this game, and he hopes they realize the little mercies he's giving them.

He gives Cleo the power to bring people back from the dead, just so he can have a chance to see his best friend again.

He gives Pearl the power to fly, and hopes she appreciates having her wings back, if only for a short time.

Jimmy gets to go invisible because Grian knows the Watchers aren't happy with the curse being broken. He wants to protect him.

As for Martyn? Grian doesn't really know a lot about what's going on with him and the Listeners, but he might as well try to strengthen that connection in the little ways he can without arising suspicion.

He says it himself in the beginning, "let's not forget this is a PVP series," but it sounds hollow even to his own ears. It's pandering to the watching eyes, making them think the lighthearted fun is all unintentional.

He falls out of the sky with the wings he gave to Pearl, and he wonders if the Watchers are starting to catch on.

[bkgsdoll]

“you know i gotchu, baby.”

RAHHHH imagine katsuki saying that after literally anything. you want your shoelace tied? done. you want that very expensive dress you saw? done! you want him to hurry up and make you cum already? DONE.

likelikelike picture his bushy brow raising as he playfully rolls his eyes OR throws a wink your way along with a pleasured smirk AHW9EHFQWO

[captainswhore]

you see price sitting like this when you walk into a room post mission- and you know exactly what it is he needs.

he's licking at you and holding your thighs open with his rough palms- and you can't take it. his calluses and his beard and the fabric of his sleeves are rubbing at your legs just right- but not enough for you to lose focus on his hot tongue rubbing on you and in you and you've never been wetter in your LIFE.

his only problem? you're still moving too much. he can't reach where he wants to inside of you because you keep wiggling out of his way. his hands want to touch you everywhere- not just hold your thighs still. this is when he begins to squeeze at you everywhere, and tell you to rest your thighs on his shoulders.

"b-but price- hhnngh ohmygod- i c-can't. they're too big. thighs are too big"

you whine at the loss of contact, but then you look down and see him staring at you with massive pupils and a wet face. "lovie- my shoulders are broad for a reason. rest your thighs on em and i swear they'll have enough room"

and you listen, and you're crushing his ears with your thighs, and he's never been happier. the next time you look down? he's rutting into the mattress and you see his hips stutter when he groans into you and your vision goes white

(@chamomiletealeaf and i had SUCH A HORNY discussion about this and she told me to post it so here i am- and also omg photo creds to her. we've gotta reign it in lmfao)

[14dayswithyou]

The 14DWY brainrot is real... >_< were ypu planning on sharing koi ren's design here too or is it discord only for now? remember to drink lots n lots of water today 🐸☔️

i don't rmbr if i included this but can you share any koi crumbs too?

✦゜ANSWERED: aaaaa I'm 14 years late to this ask (/silly), but thank you for reminding me!! I'll add the new Mer Ren design to da queue >:3

I'll also put the Koi Ren (I'm rocking with this new name!!) crumbs under the cut!!

"Stop rocking the boat, Ren." Without sparing a glance in his direction, you continue to stare out into the vast, open lake. "You'll scare away all the fish."

Had you turned around, you would've seen the faux-deadpan look on his face as Ren takes in the irony of your words. As if to prove a point, he gently swishes his tail in the water, which causes small ripples to form and (eventually) disturb your bobber. "I don't think the boat is the problem here."

"Okay, how about this... One more fish, then we can go back." You finally look back at your scaley companion — who was still leaning against the edge of your tin boat with a lazy smile — and give him a resolute nod. "Promise."

"Sure," Ren casually reaches into the boat to pick and pluck at some of your live bait. "But you said that about the last three fish."

"This will be the last one. I swear."

"You... swear?" You try to ignore the way Ren swallows up one of your minnows as if you weren't using them for bait as he continues to speak, "Like... curse words? Humans sure are weird creatures."

As if realising his comment, Ren's ocean-blue eyes widen slightly and shift towards your form. "N-Not... Not you, though."

With a laugh, you playfully try to nudge him off of the boat. All it does is cause it to tip slightly, but Ren steadies it when you show signs of losing balance.

"Alright. One more fish, then?"

You nod and cast your attention back to your rod once more. You don't even notice the silence — nor Ren slipping away — until you suddenly feel a tug on your line and call out to your companion in excitement. "That was quick!"

Quickly reeling it in, you wonder what kind of fish you'd just caught — it's definitely stronger than you anticipated, given how the rod drastically bends and snaps at every movement from the fish. And just as you see the shadow from the murky depths get closer, the ripples get bigger and cause a stir underneath your tin boat. Standing up now, you try with all your might to reel it on board...

...Only for a mess of black hair to emerge from below and peer up at you with a smug look.

"Ren!"

"Looks like you got a big one."

"C'moooon." You practically whine, though you allow Ren to haul himself into your tiny boat and rest his head in your lap. You can still feel his body shake from underneath your touch, no doubt still laughing at his poor attempt at a joke. "This doesn't count."

A beat passes before your fishy companion responds. "...Hm? Fine then."

Another moment of silence follows before he slithers back into the water without another word. Half of you worries that you might've said something to offend him (there was still the tiniest hint of a language barrier between you two). Still, it ultimately leads to nothing as Ren soon emerges once more — only this time, he's hauling the biggest largemouth bass you'd ever seen into your boat.

"This good enough?" He looks at you with wide, blue eyes. "If not, I can probably find a sturgeon and—"

"It's bigger than my boat!"

"Is this what your kind calls... exaggeration? Because your boat is big enough even for me to—"

"—Arghh! It's getting water everywhere! Put it back!"

It was almost comical how Ren tossed the fish over his shoulder and back into the water without breaking eye contact with you.

Another wave of silence hits, yet neither of you seems to move or break the awkward staring contest you'd somehow started. It's then when you notice Ren's grin get bigger — most likely at your resignation and embarrassment — which causes you to fall back into your seat in defeat.

"Fine. Enough fishing for today. Let's head back." Busying yourself with the bucket of fish and tacklebox in front of you, you secure your gear and pack everything away. But it seems Ren had other plans, seeing as he took it upon himself to climb back into your boat and rest his arms on your legs. No longer able to move as freely, you have no choice but to indulge in his carefree whims.

"But you caught me. Aren't you going to bring me home too?"

"As much as I want to," Truly, you do. You've always wanted to show Ren the world outside of Lake Bluemoss. "There's no way I'm carrying you all the way down the mountain."

"You never know until you cry."

"Try." You correct him. "Until you try."

"Your kind sure are funny." Ren nuzzles himself closer. "Perhaps another time, then... Stay here tonight."

Your body pricks up at his words, and you spare a glance at the abandoned boathouse near the dock. Despite its rough and rugged exterior, you and Ren actually made it quite comfy. It had some of your old blankets and sheets thrown over one of the boats to make it comfortable to lounge in — alongside a giant empty tank that you and Ren filled with water for him to sit in as well. Despite the lack of human traction, the place still felt homey and well-loved.

"...I guess I could."

"Then what are we waiting shore?"

You had to roll your eyes at his attempt at a pun.

[azen13]

CW: Yandere Themes,

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

Just a quick thought: Yandere!Sunday who is a galactic pop superstar.

He sees you at one of his concerts during a slower song when he looks up from the piano keys, floating in a sea of faces. Instantly you stand out to him. There's something chimerical in this moment, he thinks.

When he finishes up the set, quickly moving backstage to prepare for the next set, he makes a decision: he has to know more.

You get invited backstage after the concert, truly a dream. He sits on a plush light grey sofa, calmly smiling at you as he does to all his fans, but his golden eyes glitter and swirl with unreadable emotions. You've intrigued him.

Every moment that passes after this meeting seems to topple over like dominoes placed by a steady and swift hand. Invites to secret sessions turn into tickets offered over social media. Slowly, Sunday pulls you into his world, makes you his greatest muse. When the songs on his latest album are picked apart, atom by atom, the analysts surmise that there must be someone. And when Sunday responds to these allegations at a concert with a sly smile and a glint in his eyes, his fanbase erupts, demanding to know more.

But they will know nothing, Sunday thinks as he walks backstage, taking off his mic and his opulent outfit. He returns to his hotel room that evening to see you, safe and sound, your breathtaking eyes still painted in strange shades and hues from when he sung songs meant just for you.

He asks you if you would like to go to Penacony with him to watch him sing in the Charmony Festival, and you reply with bright eyes and a smile on your face.

One day very soon, Sunday will sing a song that will send the entire universe into an eternal dream. But in this moment, your beautiful, foolish mind completely ensnared by his siren-like voice, he feels like he is dreaming.

[fearcvlt]

thinking about sam again (18+ !!) sigh… like he’s literally the definition of a munch, regardless of if you like dom or sub sam liiiike…

he’d either have you pinned down, eating entirely for himself. his head has been buried between your thighs for agesss but he isn’t letting up. you’re tugging on his hair and crying and pleading, but he just keeps licking and sucking and taking what he wants, hands tightening on your thighs to hold you open and keep you still. just laughs all breathless against you as you try to squirm away, tugging you back down against his face.

orrrrr… you tug at his hair and he’s instantly whining, peering up at you with the wettest, saddest puppy dog eyes. he’s all pouty as you try to tug him away from you, whimpering and everything. he tries to duck his head down again, hips rutting against the mattress as he starts babbling. he’s all like “please, pretty girl. please, just need a little more.” he’s just desperate to taste more of you.

yeah, um… that’s all…

[sqtorux]

HAII SRRY HAVENT TALK IN WHIE THOUGHT U HAD SM WORK DO

imagine geto seein his ex girlfriend (you) with gojo and he like beyond pissed so he sends gojo a threat? and gojo sees the threat and sends a video of you and him in bed and he captions it has "she busy bro" and geto cant help but save the video cause you look so pretty in it

HAHAH

🐱 anon strikes again!!

-🐱 anon

[nsfw; mdni] ──

oh we a bitch for this one with the 'just because it doesn't work out with him, doesn't mean it won't work out with his best friend.'

this could be a full blow angst though because listen. suguru deflected, leaving you behind without so much of an explanation. when you confronted him all he said was "you heard from shoko right?" he owed you so much explaining and gave you none. you had been there with him, doing your best trying to help him though his rut, ensuring you were always there for him but apparently that wasn't enough and he left anyway. as if it was that easy.

so out of pure hurt and a little twinge of pettiness in you, you resort to sleeping with satoru. satoru, the one who pushed aside his feelings for you knowing you and suguru loved each other. satoru, who had always put his best friends before himself.

but he takes what he can get. he also needed the comfort, if it meant having you and finding traces of his own grieve for suguru in you then, no matter how wrong it is, he'll take it.

what he didn't expect though, was a text from his very best friend who put up a barrier between the both of them. that said barrier now broken and satoru does not know whether to feel relieved, guilty or infuriated.

suguru: sleeping with her? really? how cheap.

satoru: not cheaper than a guy who left her without an explanation.

suguru: very funny. stay away from her satoru.

satoru: or what?

satoru: [video] she's loving every part of it. look how pretty she is.

suguru: don't hurt her any more than i did. don't use her or i will do something we both don't want to.

satoru: im not using her. i wanted this. you know damn well i always loved her.

what satoru didn't know however was suguru saving the video. suguru would never admit it but he hates the way his throat goes dry and the way he couldn't help but feel blood rush to his cock at the way his bestfriend ruined his ex girlfriend so lewdly in the very same bed he himself had his ways with you.

hieee ive honestly been a bit more occupied than usual with practicals and i have exams by the end of this month BUT i will never be too busy for you ;P

[tartagliove]

Thinking about fox shifter!Childe who loves to chase bunny shifter!Reader. He chased you when he first met you, fox paws pinning you down in your squirming rabbit form, until you wore yourself out and he took you home with him. But after he knows you, he still loves the chase.

The tinge of instinctual fear intermingled with nervous thrill in your scent makes his blood pump. His fox ears are out, tail streaming behind him as he chases after you, following the noises you make as you bound and leap through the forest, trying to stretch out the distance between you and him.

You’re fast, but Childe has trained tirelessly over the years to hone his senses and master his body—both human and fox form, and the in-betweens. So he gains on you, your scent growing stronger to the point he can almost taste it.

He can tell you’re tiring.

Once he closes the distance and catches you, hands wrapping around your waist and spinning you around, he pushes you up against a tree. Before you can get a word out, he tears through the sleeve of your shirt with sharp claws, his fox features still present with the adrenaline running through his veins. Your noise of surprise is ignored. He swipes his tongue along your neck, savoring the taste of your skin: slightly salty from running, but your sweet scent is so strong here. Childe can hear your blood pumping, see your pulse fluttering, and he can’t help himself.

He bites.

Sinks his teeth into your skin, where your neck curves into your shoulder. You whine in shock at the sting of pain, but a shiver runs down your spine. His canines are sharper than a normal human’s, but he takes care to not break skin—this time.

He pulls back slowly when you thump your fist into his chest.

“Get off! Why did you have to go and tear my top?”

Childe runs his tongue over his teeth. He can taste you on his tongue, in his mouth, and he grins. “You ran from me.”

Your fingers brush over his bite mark. “I thought that was the whole point of what we planned,” you complain. “Why am I getting punished for it?”

“That’s not a punishment,” he says, blue eyes darkening. “It’s a reminder that I’ll always catch you, no matter how far you run.” He’ll be satisfied with the possessive mark left on your neck for now. It will fade in a few days, but that will be the perfect excuse for him to chase you again.

[nonranghaes]

"it's just me."

you barely get a chance to roll onto your back before soonyoung's already climbing onto the bed and somewhat on top of you and your blankets, and it's only seconds later that he crashes. it's far from the first time this has happened (soonyoung is clingy and cuddly, especially when he's sleepy), but he manages to knock the wind out of you nonetheless. he rests his head on your chest, and you wiggle an arm out to curl around him as best as you can in your semi-trapped position.

"soonyoung--"

"just go back to sleep," he murmurs. "everything's fine."

you stroke his hair, thumb dipping down to graze his cheek at one point. "soonie--"

"i mean it," he says, eyes peering up in the low light to see yours. "i'm fine. just need to nap." his hand finds yours, and he wraps your arm around him as he snuggles in. he plants a kiss against your chest before resting his head against it again, eyes fluttering shut. "you can rest a little longer, too."

you settle back down after a moment, arms wrapped around soonyoung as you shut your eyes again. sometimes you swear this tiger is a teddy bear, but regardless of which he is, he's yours.

[lovesickeros]

☆ glimpse of divinity

{☆} characters lyney, neuvillette [ separate ] {☆} notes cult au, drabble, gender neutral reader {☆} warnings none {☆} word count 0.8k

× neuvillette

The first time he sees you strolling the streets of Fontaine with a glint of wonder in your eyes, he thinks he must have finally lost it. He has to rub his eyes and check a few dozen times before he's certain that you are, in fact, real and not some figment of his imagination conjured by a lack of sleep and overdose on caffeine.

..Though now that he gets a better look, it's not quite the same. Like a smudged painting, he thinks. Still, the uncanny resemblance to the visage of the Divine One has him lingering around the area just to stare a little longer, a deep, devoted sense of affection bristling beneath his skin.

And then you turn sharply on your heel, staring directly back at him, and he feels a sudden wave of embarrassment and something akin to shame.

Archons, he'd just made a fool of himself, hadn't he?

He quickly turns away, clearing his throat and hiding his embarrassment behind his hand. Though it does not seem to deter you, the soft tap of your shoes growing closer until you were peering up at him with wide eyes.

"..Hello." He offers awkwardly, a little too stiff and a little too formal, but you don't seem to mind in the slightest. He knows that your appearance, your vague similarities to the Divine One are mere coincidence, but it does not stop his heart from skipping a beat when you smile up at him. "I– apologize for being so uncouth and staring, it's just.."

His voice trails off into a breathy exhale, his hand twitching on his cane as if he wanted to reach out and touch you..but he restrains himself in time. He could not make a bigger fool of himself – he would never hear the end of it from lady Furina.

"You remind me of someone."

He decides, readjusting his hands on his cane as he bows his head for a moment is a show of genuineness, though it must look awkward with how stiff his body feels.

Yet he cannot help but want to get closer anyway, to hear the silky lilt of your voice grace his pointed ears. This is as close as he will ever get to the Divine..he is a weak man, he finds, as he offers a hand to you.

"I understand if this is a bit..forward, but would you mind joining me for tea?"

× lyney

He is a master magician – his entire work is built on keen misdirection and sleight of hand, but even he stumbles for a minute thinking he'd seen an illusion in your warm smile and striking features. Almost an exact copy of the Divine One, yet not quite..

Still, it's enough to pique his interest – enough, too, to give him the confidence to slip into your conversation with ease, all smiles and the slip of a card between his fingers.

"Hello, stranger – I don't think I've seen you in Fontaine before," He laughs, his hand reaching around to rest gently on your opposite shoulder, his voice a ghost of a whisper in your ear. "Say, could I interest you in a bit of magic?"

He perks up at the way you seem to light up like fireworks at his offer, a spark almost like recognition in your eyes he brushes aside – he's quite well known, after all.

"Good! Now, if I may just borrow your attention for a minute.." He grins, stepping around you and turning sharply to face you, his hand outstretched with a deck of cards in his hands, face down. "Let's start simple, shall we? I shan't overwhelm my audience – pick a card."

He holds the cards out again, his features twisted in something like awe, though he hides it well.

His heart flutters at the briefest of glances of your hand against his as you pluck a card from his hand, and he quickly retracts it, reshuffling the deck with a broad grin and a wink.

"Do your best to remember it! If you could return it to the deck.." The card is placed back in it's place amongst the rest, and the magic begins!

"Now then, let's see..hm," He hums for a long moment, the silence filled by the constant shuffle of cards until he suddenly plucks one from the deck, flipping it around for you to see. "Is this your card?"

He frowns when you shake your head, almost pouting, before he lights up again and steps forward.

"Ah! How foolish of me, I missed it..it's riiight here, see." He winks, reaching behind your ear..and pulls free a card from seemingly thin air. He flips it around for you to see again, and when you tell him it is, in fact, your card, he flips it around again.

And before you can see it, he's holding a rainbow rose between his fingers, his hand outstretched as he bows.

His eyes glint with a sort of wonder as he looks at your features, his smile widening a fraction.

"Well, dear stranger? Did you enjoy the show?"

[4acoffee]

another snippet of the jy fic i cooked up in like an hour,,, lowkey made myself uncomfortable w this one LMAO but chat i gotta lock in so bad it's not even funny I have software homework due by 11:30 am tomorrow morning why am i like th- *gets hit by bus*

Abruptly, you feel a subtle shift in his mood, and out of the corner of your eye, you see him reach out his hand with an strange calm and graze your wrist.

You freeze mid-sentence, lecture faltering as the sensation of his touch lingers. His fingers travel up your arm, slow and deliberate -barely a brush, but far too intimate and bold to be done in public, - more than enough to set off a plethora of alarm bells inside your head.

You go to brush him off and take a much needed step back to continue your scolding, sharp words already forming quick and furious in your mouth.

When he suddenly, absolutely unashamedly, catches the frilly sleeve of your dress and swiftly tugs it down, dangerously low on your shoulder, baring the soft curve of your skin to the morning chill.

Your hand goes stock still in the air where you meant to stop him, the reprimand dying on your lips as your startled gaze locks with murky amber, piercing in a way that's still awfully unfamiliar to you.

His grin is wicked, unrepentant, stretching across his face with mischief.

The situation is damning. You're stuck gaping up at him like a fool, eyes wide and staring in disbelief that he would do such a thing, - not only because it was completely inappropriate, but you are also more then certain a handful of Cloud Knights were closely watching his every move from the training grounds.

Your stomach drops, and you truly believe you feel your soul try to leave your body entirely at the thought of them witnessing this whole exchange, such an ill-timed display of inappropriate familiarity in front of so many people.

An extermely undignified noise of shame and exasperation leaves you before you can stop it, and you hastily jerk the sleeve back up your exposed shoulder, your fingers fumbling slightly in your embarrassment.

But his eyes don’t leave you, still locked on you with an intensity that’s almost suffocating in a way that has you reeling, unable to shake the lingering effect of his touch.

"You can't just do things like that Jing Yuan!" You sputter out pathetically, voice low, hushed, - all too aware of the shuffling of soldiers behind you, growing a little more mortified when you realize they are noticeably more silent now than they were a moment ago. "You're perverted!" you hiss, nails digging into your palm to quell your shame.

He grins, eyeing you in some terrible way that makes your fingertips tremble and ears go hot. There's not a hint of remorse in his expression, - that infuriating grin only widens enough for you to see the white of his teeth, and his gaze shifts to something dangerous, nearly cruel in its predatory curiosity, - like your discomfort is the most amusing thing he's seen all day.

(You again wonder what happened to the sweet, charming boy you remember so fondly from your youth. You could never have imagined he would grow up to make you feel so small.)

"I know." he says, voice low and teasing, the words wrapping around you like a noose, tightening like a promise.

He leans in, so uncomfortably close it has you desperately trying to back away, but he quickly stops you with firm arm around your waist, pulling you with so much force your feet nearly leave the ground until you are tucked under his chin so he can whisper into your ear.

“I know exactly what I’m doing.”

masterlist

[crybaby-bkg]

Trainer Bakugou who you're a little terrified of the first day you're paired with him. when asking for a trainer at the gym, you had expected the friendly redhead who always looked so sweet and encouraging and cut as hell. you weren't expecting his grumpy looking blond counterpart, who was all glares and shouts for his clients to keep pushing themselves.

you were hesitant at first, before you quickly realized that it was all a ruse, for the most part. he pushed those who needed that extra encouragement, but was more lenient to people like you who simply wanted a professionals guidance. so, after a few weeks, you liked him for the most part, and his looks damn sure made it easier to cozy up to the big guy.

the only issue you've been having with Bakugou though are the...coregasms, as you've seen them been named on social media, that you keep experiencing. the first time, you weren't sure what it was, why your stomach and pelvis kept tightening up. you couldn't have...climaxed, or anything. you hadn't even been touched!

but, as the weeks go by, and the workouts get more strenuous, they've become harder and harder to subside and ignore, and so had Bakugou's commands to keep going when you suddenly stopped. you can only lie and say its cramps so many times before he realizes that something is up.

you're midway through a good morning, when that familiar feeling starts tightening in the pit of your gut. you clench your eyes shut, shaking your head a little, as if you could ward off the impending feeling. bakugou notices though, frowning at your almost pained expression in the mirror, walking up behind you to stop you as you pull yourself back up. his hands are on your waist, and as you come up, you feel his bulge glide over the curve of your ass, and something in you snaps.

you gasp, buckling over, one hand on your knee as the other reaches back for bakugou's hand to keep you up as your thighs shake. you can feel yourself spasming, clenching and unclenching around nothing, secretly wishing you had something that could fill you up, something that you felt throb against you as bakugou leaned over your form.

"Another coregasm, huh?" he asks you lowly, his lips brushing your ear as you bite your bottom lip to hold back your moan. your eyes buck open though, when his words sink in, head tipping back to look at him in the mirror, only to find his gaze already on you.

"You knew every time?" you ask quietly, panting now that its finally starting to pass over you. but bakugou doesn't let you up from this position, especially since the area you're in seems to be desolate for now.

"It's hard to ignore how pretty you look when you cum, sweetheart." Bakugou seals his words with a firm press to your ass, his cock rubbing the seam, and you can practically feel the heat and veins of it through your thin bottoms. you groan under your breath, getting lost in the feeling of him grinding against you, when he suddenly speaks again.

"You still feel it?" he asks, voice low as he looks at you through his lashes. you nod, biting at your bottom lip as you meet the steady rock of his hips, watching how he smiles before slotting his lips against your ear.

"Want me to help make it go away?" and he does, in the employee locker room after hours. he makes it go away, and rebuild, and go away again and again until you're hoarse and your legs are weaker than they typically are on leg day. bakugou helps the ache go away, but not for that sweet redheaded coworker of his, whose fists have fucked his cock the entire time of watching bakugou rail you over the locker room bench again and again.

[sugarverse]

your boyfriend who has no problem picking you up in the pool, forcing your hips against his before forcing your back against the wall of the pool "jokingly".

"My big baby just wanted to be held by me, right?" the warmth of his body made you shiver, feeling him against you as he pulled you and possibly closer.

or when he picks you up bridal style just to prove how strong he is, kissing your neck and threatening to drop you if you didn't squeeze him tight.

or when you get out of the pool for a moment to see him looking up at you with the upmost devotion. Staring at your soft tummy and stretch marks as they branch out.

your boyfriend who makes sure that your sunscreen is rubbed in, spending an extra long time on your back and thighs to stare at how plush they are.

ugh, i miss summer.

[the-universal-sun]

my headcanon is fiddleford being the best caretaker for ford pre-portal incident and for stan post-portal (in my mind they are both regressors). fidds is so very oldest sibling energy to me, and i just know he would make sandwiches with crusts cut off and set up coloring pages or word searches.

- @lavenderslittlespace 💌

(Let’s say this is an alternative universe where Fiddleford doesn’t completely forget everything and Ford comes back sooner than 30 years)

Fiddleford is a father, not the most present, but a father nonetheless. I also like to hc him as an older brother to several siblings, so he knows how to look and after children of several different ages. I figure pre-falling out with Ford, Fidds started caring for him slightly in college, but it went into a caregiver/little relationship during their research. In college it was small things of reminding Ford to eat and sleep, to give himself a couple of hours of rest a day. When they began to work with each other, it started off the same as in college, but Ford seemed different this time, his ramblings seemed more childish, and instead of about advanced mathematics, they were about inane things such as Whales and Boating facts. He followed Fidds around everywhere he went, and seemed less inclined to argue, but more inclined to whine and pout, acting almost like Tate did. Fidds decided that he didn’t really mind taking care of Ford in this way, he was mighty cute, and it fulfilled those fatherly and brotherly instincts of his. It was an adjustment period-mostly for Ford-but they worked through it.

Fidds helped Ford destress and calm down when the work and research made him anxious and run himself ragged. I don’t think Ford would be as open with Fidds as he is with Stan when little, Stan’s his twin, his other half, they get each other like no other. But Fidds is his (second) best friend, he still loves him, so he lets himself let go around him, lets himself drift into that fuzzy headspace where he has no worries and no deadlines. And he trusts that Fidds won’t hurt him and won’t let anyone else hurt him, he trusts him to take care of him. He can trust that Fidds isn’t being mean when he calls Ford “Bookworm” or “Bubs”, and that he’s not tricking him when he brings Ford space themed coloring books with glittery crayons that Ford talked about to get the sparkle of the stars just right. He doesn’t call him a “know it all” when he talks about the books he read. Fidds even got Ford a stuffed Owl he named “Owlbert”. He can be free to draw and talk until his hearts content with his Fidds.

Until Bill gets into his head and Fiddleford briefly goes into the Portal, and leaves, Ford doesn’t regress again without him. And then everything happens in canon, Ford goes through the Portal and then there’s Stan. All alone, without his brother, his better half.

Stan does okay for the first year, he’s focused on supporting himself, paying off Ford’s mortgage and student loans, working through the night in the portal. But the second year happens and Stan starts feeling downtrodden and hopeless and he misses Ford so much that he just sobs and sobs until he finds himself feeling fuzzy and smaller sometimes. Those times he just drags around a coat of Ford’s, puts on a familiar show, he really likes Popeye, and colors. They mostly end up scribbles of color, but he still finds the act relaxing.

A few months of doing…whatever it is he’s doing that calms him down, Fidds comes into the picture. He comes to the cabin to stop Ford after a flash memory of the portal. He finds not Ford, but a sad man that looks like him, but with too few fingers and eyes too weathered. He’s confused, thinking Shifty must’ve broken out of the bunker or something happened with the portal, but Stan calms him down enough to explain that no he’s not a shape shifter and yes he’s human, he’s Stanley Pines, twin brother to Stanford Pines. That was a doozy to explain because Ford never talked about his family, not much beyond his father’s expectations of him. And when Stan explains that Ford went through the portal, Fidds’ remaining anger at Ford is put on the back burner for now because his Bookworm is out there and alone and probably scared. And he’s scared because he can’t work in the portal, not after everything, but the portal needs to work to get Ford back. Stan gets him to agree to work on the equations in the attic, as far away from the basement as possible, and only during the day.

Fidds does agree after a few weeks on needling to help out in the lab in the occasion, he has the engineering degrees after all, not Stan. But that time spent with Stan leads to a few revelations for Fidds. And the first one is that he’s a lot like Ford, in more ways than just their looks. He ends up having to remind Stanley to eat, sleep, to take a break just like with Ford. He notices that Stanley goes all fuzzy in the eyes sometimes, like Ford does-did-he sometimes catches him scribbling on a page while wrapped in Ford’s trench coat, chewing at the edges of his shirt.

But Stan’s a bit different than Ford was, his interests are simpler, not that Stan is simple or anything but he just as a whole seems…younger in mind. He doesn’t talk as much as Ford did, he doesn’t really talk at all, and he still seems to guarded. Towards Fidds and towards himself. Slowly, over the months, as Fidds shows his dedications towards Stan and his health and well being, Stan slowly begins to lower his guard, to let himself enjoy it whenever he feels little, and to let himself trust Fidds to take care of him, that he won’t hurt him like everybody else has. And he doesn’t. No matter how many messes he makes or how irritating he thinks he is (he isn’t), Fidds doesn’t yell, scream, hit, or otherwise at him. He uses soft touches, soft voices, and soothing hums. Stan likes it, he likes that he can trust Fidds, likes how he gets called “Lil’ Captain” and “Pumpkin”, and he likes how he’s encouraged to let himself go and feel like this.

And Fidds likes it too. He’s not using Stan as a replacement for Stanford, they both have their special place in his life and in his heart, and nothing can change that. When they get Ford back, Stanley will still be his little Captain, and if Ford will have him, he’ll welcome his Bookworm back into their little family happily.

[casino-lights]

I posted an excerpt a while back from a wip I titled "shameless illario apologism" and I think it's time I post the whole thing because this stupid man resurrected my urge to write. a drabble about the ending of A Murder of Crows is beneath the cut with some mentions of Illario x oc because he is unfortunately my pookie. enjoy!

He looked so pitiful on his knees, gasping for air, one eye red and swollen from a particularly swift blow to the face. A single tear streaked down his bruised cheek, leaving a shimmering trail that caught the light with every breath he heaved. His doublet was more crimson than blue now, each dark blotch blossoming further across his chest as the blood from his wounds soaked into the embroidered silk. 

It would never come out. Yet more stains to add to the ones quickly mounting on Illario Dellamorte’s reputation.

“What are you waiting for, cousin?” he panted, fully expecting Lucanis’ blade to sink into his flesh any second now. “Finish what you start.”

Though he cast his eyes downward, he refused to close them. He would not meet his end in the dark. But his grandmother’s voice made him raise his face, and his heart plummeted into his stomach as he watched her make her way toward the stage he knelt upon.

“Get up, Illario,” she said flatly, as if she were simply asking him to take his feet off the coffee table. “No one from House Dellamorte kneels.”

As Viago hoisted him roughly to his feet, he found himself wondering if his parents were forced to their knees as they died. Were Lucanis’ parents? Were their cousins? Were their cousins even old enough to stand?

Illario forced himself to meet Lucanis’ eyes. Defiant, even until the end. If he was going to die at his cousin’s hand, he would look him in the eyes first. He would look their grandmother in the eyes and hope, as he had hoped his whole life, that maybe she would see that her least favorite grandson was capable of more than she thought. 

Lucanis asked his companion what to do with him. Rook. The woman who saved him from the prison he was in by Illario’s hand.

She responded with a question in kind: “Didn’t you say he’s like a brother to you? That he is your brother?”

As if Illario needed to feel even more shame. It was hard enough to look Lucanis in the eyes without memories of their childhood flashing across his mind. Wyvern-hunting. Prickle-burrs. Canes across the back. Coffee in the kitchen. Too-hot cookies. Tying knots with bloody fingers. Sauce-covered faces. Tear-stained cheeks. Crying against each other in the dark.

Lucanis was all he had. The only person he could ever rely on. The last member of his family who didn’t hate him, didn’t hurt him, didn’t think he was worthless. And Illario betrayed him.

Of course, when Illario taunted him, told him he used to be somebody, Lucanis replied with a bitter, too-quick, “And you never were.” Maybe he was hiding the hatred all along. Maybe he never respected Illario at all. Maybe Zara was right. His family never loved him.

“He was my best friend,” Lucanis said, looking at Rook. “One of my only friends, before you.”

Zara’s voice rang in Illario’s ears. A touching lie.

In a voice thick with the blood that coated his throat, Illario rasped, “You think you can show me mercy? That is not up to you, is it? Caterina is still First Talon.”

And like clockwork, Caterina answered, “His decision stands. Lucanis is the new First Talon of the Antivan Crows.”

Lucanis looked more surprised than Illario. He couldn’t muster shock. With both of them alive and present, this was the only possible outcome. This was why Zara told him he had to get rid of them. This was what he had suffered Lucanis’ presumed death to prevent.

“Viago, keep him out of trouble,” Lucanis said with a weary sigh. “I’ll come by to discuss the details in a day or two.”

“I’m no miracle worker,” Viago replied dryly, “but I’ll see what I can do.”

Illario the troublemaker. Dellamorte the Lesser. It was who he had always been. Sometimes, when he was in a more generous mood, he would joke about it. But it was always true, whether or not he gave himself the nickname in jest. Caterina saw him as an annoyance and a burden, and Lucanis… who knows how Lucanis really saw him? Right now, he was treating him like a little boy throwing a tantrum, not someone who had the throne of the most feared guild of assassins in Thedas within his grasp mere minutes ago. Was it brotherly love, or blatant disregard for everything Illario had accomplished?

All this for nothing. Worse than nothing. His grand prize was a crippling, mortifying defeat at the hands of the Demon of Vyrantium and an outsider, in front of every Talon, every House, every Crow with any kind of sway. The best he could hope for now was either a merciful death or a lot of short memories. His reward for his scheme, nearly two years in the making, was disgrace.

As Viago pulled him away, he looked only at his cousin. He mustered half a grin through the searing embarrassment. “Lucanis…”

“Don’t, Illario. Not now.” And he turned his head away.

Every step hurt worse than the last. His adrenaline wore off, leaving him tired and sore. He felt as pitiful as he looked. He felt like a child. His chest burned, his throat felt raw, and though his wounds stung and still seeped blood, it was his lungs that tightened, swelling with the urge to cry. 

He had not cried since Lucanis’ wake. Ironically enough, Viago had to escort him up the stairs then, too. Illario suddenly wished he was as drunk as he’d been that night, or that Viago would be merciful enough to knock him out again. Based on the sheer hatred in his eyes, though, that seemed like a faraway prospect. And his head would still hurt in the morning without any of the blissful forgetfulness a drunken stupor would bring.

The only thing missing from the next morning would be Lidia. She’d practically torn the Diamond’s guest wing apart looking for him after the wake. She hounded him until he ate, followed him through the city until he was weary enough to sleep, held his head in her lap and ran her fingers through his hair and soothed him until he could drag himself out of bed. She never knew how much of that paralysis, that deep depression he fell into was pure guilt. And still, all she ever did was defend him. After that depression was over, when Caterina and Viago questioned his ability to return to work; after Lucanis came back, when he tricked her into leaving the Diamond just in time for Zara’s people to take Caterina; after he killed Zara, when he held Lidia with scrubbed-raw hands and told her he didn’t want to fight anymore and that he could finally give her everything he promised if she could only just trust him a little while longer…

There would be no similar concern from her this time - not after what he put her through. He drained her blood in her sleep so he could find her if she ever left. He lied to her for over a year about where he was and with whom. He kissed her goodnight and held her until she was fast asleep before swapping his chest for a pillow and sneaking out their bedroom window so he could see Zara. 

He would return to Lidia before sunrise. That had been his promise to himself. Return to Lidia before sunrise, because she always looked her loveliest at dawn. He slipped back in through the window after a bath and crawled back into their bed, and she curled up against him and smiled and mumbled something drowsily about how he smelled nice. Every time, she asked if the job went well. Every time, he said yes. And every time, he felt that heavy ache like stones piled on top of his chest, another weight added with each contented sigh or nuzzle of her head.

He touched Zara with the same hands he touched her with only an hour before. He did it so many times he lost count. He always tried to make it up to her in the morning - a one-sided debt that kept growing and growing as he drew from her seemingly never-ending well of trust without ever replenishing it. Another betrayal to add to his list. Another person who actually loved him, lost to his own ambitions and Zara’s unfulfilled promises. He thought he would only lose Lucanis. He had prepared himself for that. He thought it would be quick and painless and Lucanis would never feel the sting of knowing his cousin - his brother - sold him out. 

And now he stood at the door of the smallest guest room in Villa Dellamorte, having cost himself Lucanis, Caterina, Zara, Teia, and everyone else who may have loved or even simply tolerated him once. He had no one and nothing to show for his efforts.

Not even Lidia. 

It would have been too much to hope that Viago would bring him to his own room. That would be much too comfortable for a traitor like him - and much too close to the new First Talon’s room. He stepped inside the guest room without a word to Viago, whose disapproving stare said more than enough to fill the silence.

As Illario sat weakly on the footstool at the end of the bed, Viago rolled his eyes and finally broke the quiet. “I’ll have a healer stop by. It’s more than you deserve, but I’m sure you know that. The First Talon wants you alive. Think on why.”

He locked the door behind him. And Illario was alone.