#its a long drabble but eh

[patchwork-crow-writes]

73 - Too Close to the Sun

This will only end in catastrophe. I know this, yet still I am drawn to it, mesmerised by the very flame that will surely incinerate me.

Hold fast, my makeshift wings, as I fly from the shadows that are my birthright, and soar towards the sunlit heavens! Beat still, my brittle heart, though the stars are arrayed against me, and their glare might break us into dust! Destiny shan't take kindly to such flighty defiance, yet her gravitas shall not bind me here!

Burn, then, and let me blaze across the skies as a screaming comet which may pierce the very sun! Let me grasp at that celestial fire, and by its grace shall I know the fleeting glory of desire fulfilled at last - for what greater purpose can there be than to commune with the divinity that is love?

And then by passion's pitiless flame shall we be spent up, our charred husk plummeting into the quenching darkness below. Humbled by our hubris, longing tempered by shame, we may do naught but look on, at a world undone by a moment's thoughtless impulse.

Still it calls to me, still do I covet its purifying flames - for how sweetly we might sing, in the shadow of that sinful sun!

______________________________

The Dark Menagerie No. 73

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[malavera]

Peaches: “Would you be so kind in lending a hand?” (18+) — Logan Howlett

summary: the friendly old man neighbor of yours is helping you with your wash day

warning: the setting of this one-shot is AU no correlation to Wolverine & Deadpool, SMUT! MDNI, fingering, female oral receiving, age gap (legal), no use of Y/N, the use of pet name peach, sir kink, squirting

wc: 3.5k (well it's a full shot not a drabble ehe)

creds: i forgot where the divider is from, creds to the creator!

dedicating this one to my favorite authors!

@velvrei @wolverinesleftclaw @stark-ironman @lovelybucky1 @cyber333angel @dollverine @joelsgoldrush

peaches masterlist

The day had finally come when you decided enough was enough. The laundry had been sitting there for three days, staring at you from the corner of your room like a silent accusation. Today was the day you would conquer it. Armed with your resolve, you hauled the overflowing basket to the laundry room. But as fate would have it, the universe had other plans.

The washing machine, that steadfast appliance you’d trusted for years, chose this very moment to betray you. The once familiar hum was replaced by a groan, a sputter, and then—nothing. You stared at it, disbelief turning to frustration as you realized the mountain of clothes in your arms was going nowhere. Your favorite pair of undies, buried somewhere in the pile, would have to wait.

You let out a long sigh, leaning back against the machine, its cool surface doing little to soothe your annoyance. Arms crossed, you dialed your father’s number, hoping for some semblance of a solution.

“Dad, the washing machine broke,” you said, half hoping he’d have a quick fix, half dreading his response.

There was a pause before he spoke, his voice calm, almost too calm. “Ask Logan for help, he’s pretty handy with stuff. I won’t be back until 8 PM tonight, buttercup.”

You nearly dropped the phone. Logan. Of course, it had to be him. The very thought of knocking on his door, asking him for help, sent a thrill of anxiety coursing through you. Why did it have to be him?

Logan Howlett—the man who occupied your thoughts far too often, the man who was the face of your wildest dreams. Just the mention of his name made your heart race. And now, you were supposed to ask him for help? The universe certainly had a twisted sense of humor.

You ended the call, staring at the washing machine like it was some cruel joke. The burnt toast theory, they called it. Sometimes, when things went wrong, it was the universe’s way of steering you toward something better. But as you stood there, contemplating the inevitable encounter with Logan, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was a blessing in disguise—or a test you weren’t sure you could pass.

Logan Howlett had been a fixture in your mind for five long months, ever since he moved into the neighborhood. It wasn’t just his rugged good looks or the way he carried himself with that effortless confidence; it was the way he seemed to have slipped so seamlessly into your life. Your dad, always quick to befriend a fellow drinker, had taken to him immediately. They were practically inseparable, sharing beers on the front porch, watching games in the living room, and even lingering over meals in the dining room.

And there you were, sneaking glances every time Logan was around, feeling that unmistakable flutter in your chest whenever he caught your eye.

Today, though, was different. Somehow, you found yourself standing on his porch, heart pounding as your fist hovered in mid-air. What were you thinking? Asking Logan for help—it felt too forward, too direct. But here you were, ignoring every ounce of self-doubt, raising your hand to knock on his door.

You barely had time to second-guess yourself before the door swung open. And there he was, the embodiment of everything that had been haunting your thoughts for months: tall, effortlessly sexy, his dark hair tousled just right. He was wearing a white shirt that clung to his broad chest and shoulders, tucked into denim jeans that fit him perfectly. You couldn’t help but notice how the summer sun cast a warm glow on his skin, making the moment feel almost surreal.

“Hey,” Logan’s voice broke through your reverie, casual yet deep enough to send a shiver down your spine. He squinted against the sunlight, his expression shifting into one of familiarity. “I was about to come over. Your dad called and asked me to check on something.”

You swallowed, trying to keep your voice steady as your mind raced. “Yeah, the washing machine broke. Dad said you could help… Would you be so kind in lending a hand?”

You could hear your own voice, slightly strained as you tried to strike the perfect balance. Not too high-pitched, not too low. Not too eager, not too aloof. But before you could overthink it any further, Logan flashed you a small smile, one that made your heart do a little flip.

“Yeah, sure, Peach.”

And there it was—that damn nickname that never failed to turn your insides into mush. It started innocently enough, the day your dad brought home a bag full of peaches and peach-flavored drinks. Logan had been there, chuckling at the sight, and ever since, he’d called you “Peach” with that easy, teasing tone. Now, every time he said it, you couldn’t help but melt a little, even if you tried to play it cool.

As you turned to lead him to your house through the backyard, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this was the universe’s way of pushing you closer to the man who had taken up residence in your thoughts.

“It made a really loud noise and it was shaking really bad, the sound was a bit scary,” you admitted, your voice tinged with worry. “And also, can you check if my clothes are alright? Did it tear them off or something?”

Logan nodded thoughtfully, a low hum of consideration escaping him as he surveyed the situation. “Where did your dad put his tools?” he asked, his gaze already scanning the room.

“Oh, it’s right there,” you said, pointing towards the shelf against the wall. Determined to be helpful, you stood on your tippy toes, stretching to reach the toolbox. But before you could grasp it, Logan moved past you with ease, his hand already closing around the handle.

“Careful, Peach. It’s pretty heavy,” he murmured from behind you, his voice close enough to send a subtle shiver down your spine. His presence loomed over you as he reached up effortlessly, the scent of his cologne mingling with the warm summer air.

You stepped back, feeling a mix of flustered and grateful as he handled the heavy toolbox with ease, making you feel small and protected all at once.

“O-okay.” The stutter slipped out before you could stop it. Seriously? Get a grip, you scolded yourself internally. Trying to regain some composure, you quickly added, “I’m just—gonna… fix you something to drink.” You gestured awkwardly towards the kitchen, hoping to retreat before you embarrassed yourself further.

Logan nodded absentmindedly, his focus entirely on the washing machine that seemed to be on its last legs. He didn’t even glance your way, which was both a relief and a disappointment. You took a nervous step back, then another, finally turning and heading to the kitchen, hoping a moment away would help you steady your nerves.

Leaving his presence created an unfamiliar ache in your chest, a tug of reluctance you hadn’t anticipated. It was as if some part of you didn’t want to leave his side, didn’t want to be apart from the quiet strength that Logan exuded. The thought of retreating to the kitchen, of putting physical distance between you and him, felt wrong, almost unnatural.

You wanted to stay. You wanted to watch him work on the broken machine, to see those skilled hands in action, to listen to the steady, assured way he moved and spoke. But at the same time, you knew you couldn’t trust yourself around him. Not when your heart raced at every little interaction, not when just being near him made you feel so unsteady.

You didn’t have the confidence to be casual, to act like you weren’t hanging on his every word and gesture. And you certainly didn’t have the strength to face the feelings that threatened to overwhelm you every time you were close to him. So instead, you sought refuge in the kitchen, hoping the distance would help calm the storm inside you, even as it left you aching for more.

Twisting the faucet, you watched as the water streamed out, the steady flow almost hypnotic in its simplicity. The kitchen was quiet, the only sound the gentle rush of water hitting the sink. You leaned forward, letting the coolness soothe your heated skin, and splashed your face with the cold water, hoping it would bring some clarity to your muddled thoughts.

For a moment, the shock of the cold jolted you back to reality, away from the overwhelming thoughts of Logan that had been swirling in your mind. You closed your eyes, letting the droplets drip down your face, trying to steady your breathing and collect yourself. It was just a broken washing machine, just a neighbor doing a favor.

You swung open the fridge, your hand instinctively reaching for your favorite peach-flavored soda. The cool metal of the can felt reassuring against your palm as you pulled it from its place. With a satisfying hiss, you cracked it open, the sweet, fruity scent immediately filling the air.

Reaching for a tall glass, you filled it with ice, the cubes clinking softly as they settled. Then, you poured the bubbly soda over them, watching as the fizzy drink cascaded down, swirling and dancing around the ice. After inserting a straw into the glass, you carefully picked it up, the cool condensation forming on the outside of the glass. You took a deep breath, steadying yourself, and made your way back to where Logan was.

"Here you go," you announced, placing the glass on the nearby table. Logan turned his attention from the washing machine to you, his eyes briefly darting to the drink you’d set down. A smile curved on his lips, the warmth in his gaze making your heart skip a beat. “Thanks, Peach.”

“Ehe…” You offered a nervous smile in return, your cheeks heating up at the casual endearment. Trying to steady your fluttering nerves, you grabbed the straw and shoved it into your mouth with a little more force than intended. It was your way of silencing the awkwardness bubbling inside you, a desperate attempt to keep any embarrassing sounds from escaping.

“So, your dad’s going on a date later today, huh?” Logan’s voice was light, but he noticed the nervousness you were trying to mask. His intention was to ease the tension with casual conversation.

“Y-yeah, he’s working now, but that’s what I’ve heard,” you replied, nervously fiddling with the straw. You decided to sit on the edge of the table where Logan’s drink was, adjusting it carefully to avoid spills.

Logan glanced at you, then back at the washing machine, his smirk widening. “You okay with that?”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” you responded, a bit defensively.

Logan chuckled softly, his eyes twinkling with curiosity. “From what I’ve heard, you’ve never been too thrilled about him dating. Is there something you’re not telling me?”

You hesitated for a moment, the weight of Logan’s question pressing on you. Taking a deep breath, you decided to let your guard down. “Well, it’s just… I’ve always felt like I have to compete for his attention. It’s silly, I know, but it’s hard when you’re used to being the center of someone’s world.”

Logan’s expression softened, and he gave you an understanding nod. The moment of connection hung between you as Logan turned his attention back to the washing machine. He worked with focused precision, his hands moving deftly as he made the final adjustments. The clinks and whirs of the machine were soon replaced by a steady, rhythmic hum.

“There we go,” Logan said with a satisfied grin, stepping back to admire his handiwork. The washing machine was back in action, its gentle whirl now a reassuring sound.

You let out a relieved sigh, watching the machine function smoothly. “Thank you so much, Mister Howlett. I really appreciate it.” you said, your gratitude sincere as you adjusted from your sitting position to stand up. You set down your now-empty glass on the table, the slight clink of the glass breaking the brief silence.

Hearing you address him as "Mister Howlett" sparked something within Logan—an unfamiliar, yet undeniable feeling. It was a sentiment he had been trying to avoid, one that stirred within him despite his best efforts to keep his distance. The formal address seemed to intensify the feelings he had been wrestling with, making them more pronounced.

You're not the only one who has a crush, he does too.

From the moment Logan had closed the trunk of his truck while moving into the neighborhood, you had been on his mind. He remembered the day vividly—watching you step out of your car in a beautiful white sundress that hugged your upper body and flowed gracefully. The way the dress accentuated your figure, combined with the ease of your movements, had captured his attention in a way he hadn’t anticipated. As you came knocking on his door with your dad beside you to welcome him into the neighborhood, those peach-flavored pie you brought had been lingering in his mind ever since. He wondered if you smell as good as that pie where he devoured in one full bite that night. And here you are, wearing the same white sundress that's gotten him obsessed with.

As Logan took a step forward, you instinctively stepped back, forgetting about the table behind you. Your hips brushed against it gently, causing a small jolt. Logan had intended to reach for the glass of your beverage, but his proximity brought him uncomfortably close.

With a casual yet deliberate movement, Logan took the glass from behind you, his body nearly brushing against yours. He lifted the glass in front of you, tilting his head slightly with a smirk. “Thanks, Peach,” he said, his voice low and warm.

Without breaking eye contact, he chugged down the drink, his gaze locked onto yours. The act was both confident and intimate, making the moment feel charged with unspoken tension. The shared space between you seemed to crackle with a newfound energy as you both stood there, the air thick with the lingering effects of the brief but intense connection.

You cleared your throat, feeling a flush of heat spread across your cheeks as you managed to wiggle your way out from the proximity of Logan. You made your way toward the washing machine, watching it work through the glass as your laundry tumbled inside.

“Tell me, Peach,” Logan’s voice came from behind, smooth and deliberate. “Is your taste as good as this peach soda?”

Your breath hitched, and your mind raced. Am I hearing this right? Is this a dream? You thought, trying to process his words. Despite the possibility of it being a dream, you couldn't bring yourself to face him. Instead, you leaned against the washing machine, the rhythmic vibrations grounding you.

“Um—W-what do you mean, s-sir?” you managed to stammer, your voice barely more than a whisper.

You could feel Logan’s presence closing in behind you, the air growing warmer and thicker as he approached. The vibrations from the washing machine seemed to pulse more intensely against your torso, amplifying the sensation of his proximity. Each step he took made your heartbeat quicken, your senses acutely aware of the space between you shrinking.

Logan’s shadow fell over you, and you could almost feel the heat radiating from his body. His breath, though not yet touching your skin, was close enough that you could sense its warmth. 

“You wanna know what ‘m thinking, Peach?” He mumbles behind your ear. You wished he didn’t hear your shuddered breath and the swallowed saliva down your throat from the way he makes you nervous.

“I don’t think so, Mister Howlett.” you managed to reply, your voice trembling slightly as you tried to maintain your composure.

“Naw, why? Afraid you might like it?” You could feel the smirk slowly forming in his face.

“I-”

“I’m thinking of bending you against this washing machine, lift up your very short sundress and get on my knees. Slowly taking my time smelling that scent… of arousal from your pussy, where I know, she’s dying to be touched, to be fingered, to be fucked, by me.” You gasp once you feel the bulge from his rough jeans, teasingly grinding against your ass earning a chuckle from him as he continues,

“Oh yes I know, Peach. I know how much you want to feel this cock inside you. Should’ve known better to close your blinds at night when your delicate… fingers desperately trying to reach that high, because I’m always watching you, Peach. Even though you’re such a pain in the ass with that, Peach flavored pie, and that fucking beautiful smile. I wanna turn those smiles into tears… Tears of pleasure from me, fucking this cunt.” You gasped loudly as Logan roughly thrust his bulge against your ass, hitting you against the washing machine.

“L-Logan,” you stammered, your voice trembling with a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

“Call me, Sir,” Logan’s tone was laced with full authority, each word deliberate and commanding. You choked back a swallow before you corrected yourself.

"Sir, I don't know what you're talking about." You stood on your ground.

"Yeah? Let me remind you how it feels then, this time, with me." Logan grunted in your ears before you felt a rush of cold air blowing against your damped panties resulted from Logan lifting your skirt up. You whimpered once you feel his fingers grazing against your soaking wet cunt, earning a mocking tut from Logan.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk... Your cunt says otherwise, Peach." He rubs you through the panties before ripping them off of you, the sound piercing through the room.

Logan crouched on his knees, proving his promise to you the one where he'd like to take his time smelling you from down your legs up to your thighs, dragging his warm tongue on your delicate skin upwards earning a moan from you. Logan hummed once he connected his lips to your glistening pussy lips, his tongue swirling and lapping your gushing juices.

You feel like god had just granted you your wishes into doing this sinful things. You finally can experience the feeling of his tongue against your throbbing cunt that keeps on gushing. Logan moaned, while he laps your juices up like a dog. "You taste just as I imagined, peach-flavored cunt." He murmured against your pussy.

A rosy hue crept across your cheeks hearing his statement. "Come on, Peach. Gimme more." Logan breathed out, his two hands that were gripping your thighs pushed and lifted you upward attempting you to bend over more over the top of the washing machine. Spreading your legs wide, you moaned out loud once you feel his tongue crazily lap your pussy like a dog in thirst.

"S-sir.." You squeaked, feeling yourself close.

"Hmm, yeah, give it to me, Peach." Logan grunted, burying his face even more.

"Ngh, I'm gonna-" Before you could finish that sentence, you froze as you heard your dad's voice calls out to you.

"Buttercup! I'm home, have you managed with the laundry yet?" He hollers from the other room. You gasped while Logan didn't even budge, he kept resuming his action.

"Y-yes, Dad! Everything's good now!" You holler back, holding yourself back from moaning.

"Do you need any help, darling?" You heard the sound of footstep, your eyes widened and hurriedly answer, "No- No, Dad! Everything's good, I'll be coming in a second." Logan smirked.

"Okay darling, I'm gonna get some rest." Your dad holler back as his footsteps fading away. You sighed in relief before you gasped when you feel Logan entering two fingers inside your cunt.

"What a naughty little girl, she needs to make herself cum before she gets back to being the dotting daughter huh?" You whimper to his words.

"Please, sir. Don't stop, it feels so good.."

"Yeah? Wait till you feel my cock." Logan vowed. He curled his fingers inside you, effortlessly flicking your g-spot before he stood back up on his feet, leaning against your back. He gently guide you to stand on your feet even though it's impossible for you as you're still in daze from his fingers still working their magic.

Logan whispered all kinds of filthy things in your head to get you to reach your high. "Is this just like what you imagined, peach?" — "Feels so good yeah?" — "Yes it does. Are you gonna cum for me?" — "Yeah come on, almost there, I know," — "Make a mess on my fingers, baby."

As you choked a loud moan, Logan's other hand went to silenced you while you came gushing down on his fingers. Your whole body shook while Logan holds you in place as you're coming down your high.

"There you go, good girl." You panted once you've gained your strength to stand on your own, you turned around and to find him smirking, a notable wet droplet covered some parts of his jeans as you now just learned, that you squirted on him a little.

He brought his fingers up to his mouth, his gaze never leaving yours as he tasted what's remained of you on his fingers.

"Hmm, taste just like a peach."

let me know if you want me to start the journey for Logan & Peach 😉

[jeonfics]

birthday boy | jjk

pairing: husband!jk x wife!reader

genre: married couple au

warnings: lots of touching, fluff, mentions of sex, clingy jk, whiny jk, kisses, he says baby a lot, just overall soft moments

word count: 2.6k

a/n: hiiiii this is my very first fic/drabble i’ve ever written and posted. my writing skills aren’t the best but i hope you enjoy 🥹 i hope to make more stories in the future. this is also all fiction and in no means am i trying to relate this to the members irl🫶🏽

“okay he should be coming home any minute now so you guys need to hide,” you say to all of your in laws. you check jungkook’s destination on your phone and he’s 1 minute away from the house.

his parents, older brother’s: jin, yoongi, hoseok, and namjoon, and their spouses and kids go to your back patio that you all decorated for the party. jimin and taehyung wanted to pull a prank on jungkook first but there was no time for that since jungkook was coming any second now.

ever since you and jungkook had moved from Busan a year ago, he hadn’t seen his family that entire time. you on the other hand, have some family in the states. you guys also couldn’t go to Busan because of work. jungkook yearned to see his family although he called and facetimed them almost everyday.

you hear the sound of jungkook’s car outside parking in the garage. soon after, his keys are opening the front door.

“baby i’m home!” jungkook says out loud as you get up from the couch in the living room hurrying to him at the front door.

“hi! how was work?” you say cheerfully as he takes off his shoes and you take his bag.

“eh. the same. you weren’t at the porch today?” he pouts, a look of sadness and confusion written all over his face because you always wait for him at the porch when he comes back home from work.

“sorry i was doing something,” you say hoping he doesn’t think too much about it. he only nods but when he finishes taking off his shoes he begins to notice the light makeup on your face and the outfit you’re wearing. its just a new floral patterned dress you recently got. you paired it with a necklace and matching earrings. it’s nothing special but definitely something you wouldn’t normally wear at home. you also styled your hair because you wanted to look presentable for the party tonight. you also didn’t have work today and did tell jungkook you’d be at home all day, so he knows you didn’t go out. he ogles at you and grabs you by the waist. you squirm at the sudden movement.

“baby, who told you to look so beautiful?” he asks you while looking at your lips leaning in for a kiss. you know that look on his face but you stop him with your hands on his chest. he’s taken aback by your reaction because it’s also something you normally wouldn’t do- refraining from a kiss.

you see the confusion on his face again, this time he furrows his brows.

“uhm i just wanted to dress up. i was getting bored.”

“you look gorgeous baby. don’t worry you won’t be bored for long,” he winks and leans in for another kiss. you stop him again. not because you don’t want to kiss, but because his family is definitely watching you guys from the back patio near the living room. the doors are made of glass and although they are hiding in the dark, you know they are definitely peeking at you two. you get shy and flustered by the thought of his parents seeing you two like this so you quickly remove his arms from your waist and head towards the kitchen.

“baby what happened? are you mad at me?” he says pouting. it hurts you that he may be thinking if he did anything wrong. he could never do anything wrong. jungkook has always showered you with nothing but love for the past year of your marriage and last 6 years of your relationship.

“no of course not. you just need to wash up first.” you say as a lame excuse for him to not touch you. you know if jungkook starts touching and kissing you things get heated real quick. and you certainly cannot let that happen now.

“but you always give me kisses everyday after work. sometimes a bit more” he winks. “and my birthday’s in two hours,” he whines, his doe eyes looking like a puppy, lips in a pout and frown. “i had such a long day today all i could think about was the bomb ass birthday se-“

“jungkook!” you quickly cut him off. your cheeks gone full red because of the embarrassment. you’re most definitely sure everyone heard that. you panic internally because the thought of his parents hearing that leaves you extremely embarrassed. not to mention, the kids are outside too, and you definitely do not want them wondering what sex is. you and jungkook have this thing where you’re not clingy or touchy around each other’s families. not because you’re scared they’d judge you or something but because you both like doing it in private, when it’s just the two of you. pda isn’t really your guy’s thing.

“aw come on baby. why are you getting so shy for” he laughs. “it’s just me and you here. please just tell me what i did wrong. is it cuz i left this morning while you were still asleep. i was running late and i didn’t wanna wake you because you had cramps last night and it’s the beginning of the month so your period might be coming and-“

“no no jungkook you didn’t do anything wrong. just please hurry and go wash up. then we’ll eat dinner,” you cut him off as you push him towards the stairs. you know the more words that comes out of his mouth, the more embarrassing it’ll be for the both of you. you’ll just let him take a shower before everyone surprises him.

“let’s take a shower together. you know, i had a really reallyyy loooong day and you can help me relieve some tension baby. tomorrow is my birthday after all.” he repeats, using the birthday card to try and convince you while you’re still pushing him towards the stairs. your silence says it all so he quickly retreats, turns around and grabs you by the waist. he carries you up and then places you on the kitchen counter. he stands between your legs, hands brushing your thigh as they slowly slide up under your dress.

“oh my gosh jungkook not now! put me down!” you whisper loudly. he’s confused why you’re whispering so he stops playing with your thighs. you push him away and quickly jump off the counter. you hurry to the living room but he’s faster. he grabs your wrists and pulls you towards him. he holds you with one hand on your waist while the other on the side of your face, thumb gently caressing your cheek. you turn your head to the side and you can clearly spot some of his brothers and their wives hiding behind the chairs and bushes. you only look for a few seconds but you still see them covering their kid’s eyes. “great” you think. you then turn back to jungkook and push his arms away from you. he’s always clingy but of course not when family are around. he doesn’t know that yet.

“baby i’m sorry but you know i can’t hold back when you look this hot. i was gonna wait for tonight but seeing you all dressed up for me,” he licks his lips leaning towards your face, “i was hoping for us to start now,” he says in his sultry voice that almost makes you risk it all.

luckily you’re saved from the embarrassment when taehyung slides the glass door to your back patio and enters the living room. “hate to break it to you but you can’t be so horny tonight baby.” jimin follows and says while laughing, “yeah baby, don’t mean to ruin the fun but you’ve got company.” they both mock jungkook. you laugh out loud, only now realizing how many times jungkook has called you baby ever since he stepped foot in the house.

jungkook releases his hands from you, his eyes go wide as he’s surprised by who’s in front of him. he then runs to hug his brothers. they all jump while hugging. you watch them with the biggest smile on your face. moments later, jungkook stretches out one of his arm for you to join, which you gladly do. the four of you are all circled in a tight hug, jumping up and down in the little circle. reunited after one long year, this is definitely a moment to take in.

“what’re you guys doing here? no one told me you were coming?” jungkook asks as you all slowly release each other from the hug.

“happy early birthday!” jimin says while ruffling jungkook’s hair.

“it was all y/n’s idea. we just wanted to surprise you little bro,” taehyung said as he wraps his arm around your shoulder.

“surprise!” you say with a big smile on your face looking at jungkook.

jungkook looks at you and quickly lifts you up, spinning you around. “thank you thank you thank you!!” he gives you a big fat kiss on the lips as he puts you back down. you laugh after. finally he gets to kiss you.

“anything for you, you big baby,” you say pinching his cheeks. he gets slightly embarrassed of the word now because he gets remembered of everything he said and did ever since he came home.

he turns to his brothers pointing his fingers at them. “you guys heard nothing.”

your cheeks turn pink from embarrassment. his brothers look at you while laughing. you cover your face with your hands hiding from your embarrassed face. they’re not the only one who heard everything, you three think.

“aw come on stop laughing. it was nothing funny,” jungkook says to the guys as he wraps his arms around your waist.

“well we’re not the only ones who found it funny” jimin winks at jungkook while taehyung bites his fist in his teeth holding himself from excessively laughing.

“w-what do you mean?” jungkook looks at you three confusedly. “who else heard?”

“close your eyes okay?” you say softly to him and he looks at you in confusion but complies nonetheless. you take his hand and slowly guide him to your back patio. jimin slides the door open while taehyung turns on the fairy lights you set up earlier today. it brightens up the entire patio space. jungkook can sense the change in lighting and squints his eyes.

“no peeking!” you exclaim and cover his eyes with your right hand. the other hand still holding onto jungkook so he doesn’t fall or get hurt. some of your nieces and nephews giggle. everyone is already out of their hiding spots and waiting to surprise jungkook.

“baby what did i just hear?” jungkook asks.

“you’ll see on the count of three okay?”

you look around and make sure everything is in place. all of the tablewear, flowers, candles and jungkook’s favorite foods displayed neatly on the long table. in the back near the pool are his cake and favorite desserts on the dessert table, and his gifts set on a different table. you even bought a cute bunny piñata because the kids (and jungkook) would definitely love it. your theme for today was just a nice, comfy, and chill outdoor party and with the help of your in-laws you were able to achieve that. it was everything you pictured~something you knew jungkook would love.

you nod at everyone so they were ready. you release your hands from jungkook’s face.

“okay 3…2…1…”

“SURPRISE!!!” you and everyone yell to jungkook when he opens his eyes. he opens his mouth wide in shock and immediately runs to hug his parents.

“i missed you guys sooo much.”

“we know sweetie. we did too.” his mom says and kisses his cheek.

“happy birthday son. we’re so proud of you.” his dad says shortly after.

you see jungkook’s eyes glistening and he looks like he’s on the verge of tears. you knew how much he missed his family and seeing them after so long would definitely make him feel emotional. he hugs his brothers and their spouses after, and then all of his nieces and nephews.

“i can’t believe you guys are all here. this doesn’t feel real. thank you guys seriously. this is the best birthday gift i could’ve asked for.”

you’re all touched by jungkook’s words. he has worked hard non stop all his life but seeing him now following his dream and working on things he is so passionate about is even more admiring. leaving everything behind back home was an extremely difficult decision for him. when he got the job offer in New York for one of the biggest gaming companies in the world, he was stoked, but knowing that he’d have to leave his family, his home, behind him was definitely not an exciting feeling. he was extremely grateful though to have you by his side but he did feel bad that you had to leave everything behind too, even though you constantly reminded him that wherever he is, you are there too. jungkook waited for the day he’d see his family again, so he looks at everyone taking in this joyous feeling.

“don’t thank us honey, your beautiful wife planned all of this. you are truly lucky to have y/n by your side.” you gush at his mom’s words and let out a soft “thank you” to her going over to give her a hug.

jungkook comes over to you and smiles so endearingly you feel like crying because how can your husband look so precious. he pulls you in a tight hug and whispers “i’m so lucky.”

the rest of the night is spent beautifully with everyone eating, singing, dancing, laughing, and partying. jungkook is having so much fun with his family and you look at him fondly with the biggest smile plastered on your face. how did you get so lucky to have such an amazing and caring husband, along with a beautiful family who adores you just as much as you do them.

when you go back inside to the kitchen to grab more drinks, you feel a light smack to your butt. you gasp turning around and finding your husband with a smirk on his face that you know too well. he pulls you to the corner where no one can see you guys through the glass doors.

jungkook lifts you up and hugs you so tight you start giggling. “thank you so much baby. i really don’t know what i did to deserve you. but just know i will continue to spend everyday of my life loving you and caring for you. you seriously don’t know how much you mean to me y/n.”

“i do jungkook, i do know and you mean the world to me and more,” you say as he settles you back down. you cup his face and pull him in a chaste kiss that’s sweet and tender. the one where all sounds are blocked and it’s just the two of you. he deepens the kiss and pulls you in closer, one hand on your waist, the other on your nape. you pull back not too long and stare at him, fingers brushing his soft, fluffy hair that’s parted in the middle. “i love you so much my love. happy birthday.”

[brunchable]

You told Bucky that, 'He's right' 《Drabble》

Words: ≈600

Pairings: Husband!Bucky Barnes x f!reader.

A/N: omg i actually wrote a short story. Dunno if you'd call it a drabble if its >100words but eh. Divider is mine :)

Bucky stared down at his phone, his brow furrowed in confusion. He sat on the edge of the bed, glancing at the door you had just walked through after the argument. Everything about the situation felt... wrong.

"Did I hear that right?" he muttered to himself, his voice tinged with disbelief.

You had said the words no married man expects to hear, especially after an argument: "You're right."

A cold sweat broke out on Bucky's forehead. He picked up his phone and hurriedly typed a message to Sam, his thumbs flying over the keys like it was a mission.

Bucky: Hey, I just had an argument with Y/N, and she just told me I was right. What do I do next?

Sam's response came almost immediately, as if he'd been waiting for the exact moment Bucky's world flipped upside down.

Sam: Oh no. What did you do?

Bucky: That's the thing! I didn’t do anything!

Sam: Doubt it. Check again. You definitely did something.

Bucky got up and peeked out the bedroom door. You were calmly sitting on the couch, scrolling through your phone as if nothing monumental had just occurred. No fuming. No angry glares. You even had a tiny smile on your face. That, more than anything, terrified Bucky.

He quickly shut the door and leaned against it, typing with even more urgency.

Bucky: I swear! She just said, “You’re right.”

Sam: She said WHAT?

Bucky: “You’re right,” Sam. I’m not messing with you. What do I do? Is this a trap?

A long pause followed. Sam was probably trying to process what Bucky was saying, and that made Bucky even more nervous. His phone buzzed with another message.

Sam: Listen, man, if she said you're right, there's no going back. You’re in uncharted territory now. Just apologize.

Bucky: But she said I’m right!

Sam: And you’re still wrong. Did your Dad not tell you that women are always right?!

Bucky's mind raced. What if this was some sort of test? What if this was a new form of argument he had never encountered before?

Bucky: Okay, but what do I apologize for?

Sam: For breathing. For existing. Pick one, man. Just go with it.

Bucky sighed, rubbing his temples. None of this made sense. He felt like a soldier in a war zone, except the enemy was invisible, and the battle lines were non-existent. He looked at his phone one last time, hoping for some final piece of wisdom from Sam.

Sam: If she said you're right, just apologize and bring her chocolate. And flowers. Actually, maybe throw in a puppy just to be safe.

Bucky: A puppy? Where am I supposed to get a puppy at this hour?

Sam: Figure it out. Good luck, man. It was nice knowing you.

Bucky groaned, shoving the phone in his pocket. He paced for a few minutes, trying to figure out the best approach. Finally, with a deep breath, he walked into the living room, feeling like he was marching to his doom.

You looked up at him with a raised brow. "Something on your mind?"

Bucky cleared his throat, feeling a bead of sweat slide down his back. "Listen, doll, about earlier... I just wanted to say I’m... sorry."

Your brow furrowed slightly. "For what?"

"For... being right?"

Your lips twitched, and you quickly covered your mouth with your hand, hiding a smile. "Oh, really?"

Bucky shifted nervously. "Yeah, and for... everything else. Just... all of it."

You finally burst into laughter, doubling over as you clutched your stomach. "Oh, Bucky, you’re ridiculous."

Bucky blinked, completely thrown off. "Wait, what? So I’m not in trouble?"

You shook her head, wiping away tears of laughter. "No, you goof, why would you be? I just didn’t feel like arguing anymore. I knew you'd spiral the moment I said you were right."

Bucky blinked. “So, you were messing with me.”

You grinned mischievously, shrugging a shoulder. "Just a little. But I like the apology."

Bucky shook his head with a grin. “I swear, you’re going to be the death of me, doll.”

As you laughed, Bucky’s phone buzzed again. He glanced at the screen to see another message from Sam.

Sam: You still alive?

Bucky: Barely. You owe me a puppy.

[avocado-writing]

I have! a nsfw request!

a small drabble on astarion with a reader that is used to always sharing a room/having someone in the room next to theirs so they’ve gotten exceptionally good at being quiet and he has to “re-train” them to be vocal? 🫣

”come on, darling. you can do better than that.”

you reach out desperately for a pillow, hoping to find soft satin to bite down on and smother your moans. you have no such luck - astarion threw them all off of the bed just after he laid you down on it.

gods, he has you wrapped around his little finger, and you’d rather be nowhere else.

you watch the long, marble line of his torso glisten in the candlelight, sweat wrung from his pores from the exertion of not simply fucking you into brainlessness. your thoughts are already cottony-thick but your lover will not let you float away into ecstasy. no, tonight he is your teacher, and you his willing student.

he is going to go slow until you he gets what he wants.

“louder, darling,” he hums, sweetly. he is trying to eke out every little noise from you and make it thaumaturgy-loud. too long the two of you have been beholden to silence, always muffling your pleasure in order to hide your coupling from the rest of the camp. tonight though, you are alone, and astarion is making very good use of it.

“astarion, I can’t,” you whine. he draws his hips back, dragging his raw cock out of you before slamming it back in. his head brushes the sweet spot nestled in your walls and you yowl, crying out like an animal. above you a white-fanged grin spreads across his face.

“perfect. a little more, now…”

another thrust and you moan long and loud. it’s a bit performative, but at the same time there’s truth at its heart - you don’t remember the last time you were fucked so beautifully.

“astarion!” you cry out his name this time, a prayer, a jubilation. your throat will be sore by the end of tonight. of that, you are certain.

“that’s it, pet. there’s hope for you yet, eh?”

he is impossibly smug above you. in revenge, you link your ankles at the small of his back and use his surprise to bring his hips flush to yours, bottoming him out. he squeals and you cackle in triumph.

“menace,” he grumbles, not at all upset.

“tease,” you bite back, and kiss him.

taglist: @ghosti02art @sadandanxiouswtf @yeethaw13@trappedinlimbo15@infinitely-kate@dhampling@wereallbrokenangels@tilldeathdonugget@useless-contributions @beardedladyqueen @hopeful-n-sad

[rinnstars]

boxed up!

spring cleaning season calls for him to remember you

itoshi rin x reader: bllk + post canon, angst, short drabble bc of exams, not proofread + likes n reblogs r appreciated

he feels like a bird trapped in a cage - surrounded by ropes and chains that keep him sitting her for the past hours. what was supposed to just be spring cleaning for the holidays as dictated by his parents turned into a time travel to a time he much rather not remember. he should be outside right now, enjoying dinner that was his favourite as a treat for winning the match, he should be playing games or watching horror shows right now, he should maybe even be practicing his football but all he can do is to sit in silence without any movement as though a deer caught in headlights.

polaroids scattered around him - your radiant smile instead now fills with him with bitterness and anguish that he can feel deep in his ribs, as though eh had lost a part of himself the day he lost you. he picks at each polaroid, looking at every single detail of it - from the background of the classroom you both shared that was decorated with sprinklers and balloons, the last birthday you’ve spent with him. and he looks at the others, plain and simple photographs of just you - wearing his shirt, caught unaware, lip swollen from kisses and all. and broken pieces from you and his shared bracelet, scattered over the photos when he first opened the long-forgotten box he’s kept ever since you left. and even the lipstick you left with him the last time you were here in his room, he still remembers the way you slept on his bed, leaving a dent that he still doesnt dare sleep on in fear of ruining the last physical reminder he has of you, the way you hugged him so tightly as if you knew you were going to leave soon, so hard he swears you left an imprint on his ribs that he can feel a ghost touch on. he still has a small vial of your favourite perfume that you gave to him as a joke, yet he remembers the exact smell, the exact fragrance, the exact sensation it ignited in him whenever he catches a whiff of that scent that he can only associate now with you.

and maybe he kept everything in this box under the guise of passing it back and maybe fate is kind enough to let you leave without any fuss, without coming back to see him one last time, without ever taking back these physical reminders of. yet, he wonders if its worse that you’ve never came back, not once, and he’s never seen you again since that night. he wonders if you disappeared completely from the world without so much as a trace, your phone number is no longer yours he finds out weeks after, and your house now empty of you and of any furniture that he can recognise. he wonders if you hate him so much that you’ve simply ran away - ran away from the collapsed house of cards that he must have destroyed with his roughness, ran away from the same bird cage he’s now keeping himself in alone suffocating and drowning in the same familiar pain he used to be in, ran away from him.

its been years at this point, but every spring cleaning, its still the same. he’ll pour every single memory left of the both of you and each time, he locks the bird cage containing himself and the ghost of you tighter than before - just for a tinge of hope that one day you’ll remember and come back to just maybe free him, or at least look at him through the silver gates that would just maybe satisfy your anger and bitterness and resentment left towards him.

[c0llisiion]

OBSESSION — m.yg

★pairing : min yoongi + fem!reader

★genre : smut

★: perv!myg , neighbour!au , drabble , panty sniffing , masturbation — lmk if i missed any! ^^

★W/C: 965

A/N : hiiii! I made this a drabble cus i be going through that writers block fever 🤒 its kinda rusty and eh imo but LOLLL hope you enjoyed it! I will try writing more!

☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★ MDNI. Please refrain from reading if the topics make you uncomfortable. ☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★

Perv neighbor Yoongi, who has been dying to have a taste of you since the day you moved into the apartment opposite his. He has been crushing on you ever since you walked up to his door to introduce yourself as his new neighbor. You had baked him cookies as a sign of friendship, but he wasn’t interested in them.

Yoongi thought you were absolutely beautiful. The moment you started talking to him with your soft, sultry voice, he fumbled internally. He didn’t even pay attention to what you were saying and was just staring at you in awe. His eyes scanned your body. That little crop tee and those Hello Kitty PJ pants fitted you perfectly. Your midriff was out, and he noticed the pink twinkling belly piercing. You looked so gentle and kind. He admired everything about you. And from then on, it was his mission to make you his.

But he was shy and reserved. He would see you occasionally whenever you accidentally bumped into him or something like that. But he wanted more. And so he began talking to you more often. He had analyzed your schedule and timetable by now. At around 6:30 a.m., you wake up and head to the gym. Yoongi wasn’t a gym freak at all. But when he found out you were going? He immediately joined your gym. It was a headache to wake up every day at 6 a.m. and go, but it did make yours and his relationship stronger than before. After you found out he was now going to your gym, you started talking to him more. Asking him about his workout plans, his diets, and his schedule, which Yoongi had no idea about, so of course he lied to you about them. Yoongi's eyes never left your presence. The sole reason he even joined this stupid gym was for him to get more of your beautiful body. He would stare at you shamelessly as you did your set of squats. His eyes are on your plump ass at all times. He would get hard at just seeing your ass and would rush into the gym lockers to rub one out real quick, his pale hands gripping onto his long dick. He imagined you doing it for him, but of course it wasn’t enough. You both would walk home together, which gave him the opportunity to learn about you more. He liked how dainty you were. You had this hard, tough girl exterior, but in reality, you were the complete opposite.

After your workouts, he would accompany you to the laundromat. But as time went by, he would offer to take your set of laundry whenever he went. You appreciated that and were very grateful to him. You were getting busy with college anyway, so your time was limited. Little did you know, he was stealing your panties. The only reason he offered to take your load was so he could be a sick weirdo and steal your used panties. He would rummage through the piles of clothes and carefully pick out one of your pink lace panties and stuff them into his pocket. He had the urge to take them all, but he wasn’t going to let you find out that he had been stealing them, right?

He would drop off the clean load at your doorstep before rushing into his own home. He wouldn't even have the patience to go into his room. Your scent was in his grasps, and he couldn’t waste anytime! He would spread his legs out as he sat on his couch, pulling out his aching cock. He would be as hard as a rock. His pink tip now an angry red with precum oozing out. With his shaky hands, he brought the undergarment to his nose, and as soon as his nose got a slight sniff of your panties, he was in heaven. He pressed the undergarment to his nose with great force, taking huge sniffs of your arousal. He loved it. He had no shame about it. It was intoxicating. He moaned into the piece of fabric as his other hand was gliding up and down his shaft with speed. Now that he knew how you smelled, he was able to imagine you bouncing on his dick. Your name left his mouth in audible moans. He was humping his own hand, not being able to control himself. He stuffed the garment into his mouth, now getting a taste of your arousal. His eyes shut tight, his eyebrows furrowed, and sweat dripped down his black locks. His now-free hand crept up his shirt, tugging and pulling on his erect nipples for more stimulation. His breathing was heavy, and his body was writhing uncontrollably. He envisioned your fucked-out face moaning and being a pretty little mess for him. His cum all over your pussy and your ass. His hips jerked up at the thought, and he was whining like a bitch. Muffled moans of your name escaped his pretty lips every second. Tears were forming in his eyes as he was getting closer and closer to his goal. His hands continued moving up and down, increasing the speed and grip. 

He let out a final, choked-out gasp as he came all over his lower belly and hands. He was cumming a lot. All that pent-up desire , finally spilling out. He laid completely still, stabilizing his breath. He finally came down from his high, taking your now-drool-stained panties out of his mouth. He heard a faint knock on his apartment door, which prompted him to quickly clean himself up and put his composure back on. He opened the door to see you. Standing in front of his door. In utter shock. It seemed like you heard everything.

A/N: hihihi hello thank you 4 readingg! <33 i might write another part if i have the time lol my inbox is open rn! I might take time to respond or write so please be patient w me! 💀🤌😭 i did some tweaking to my blogs hehe new year new me fr

[catopoliscat]

absence / suguru geto/fem!reader

suguru's been working away for a few days. time apart always made your boyfriend a little insatiable. sometimes he couldn't even wait for you to wake up before he had a taste.

tags: nsfw. 18+. fem!reader. (consensual) somnophilia. established relationship. canon!verse but slight au!suguru (not a cult leader/normal sorcerer). cunnilingus. fingering. one pet name, ‘my sweet thing’. spitting. suguru knows how to EAT. he’s also very, very into it if you catch my drift. porn without plot, really. no use of y/n or any other placeholders. ever.

wc: 1.9k.

a/n: is this a drabble? how small is a fucking drabble idk - but a lil smth small while i work on a lil smth fatter ehe

mdni.

It’s the throbbing between your legs that eventually wakes you up. 

Your head is thick, still dusted and clouded with the heavy remnants of your disturbed dreams. There’s a cool breeze against your skin, and you vaguely become aware of the lack of covers on top of you… and yet your skin feels hot, prickly. You palm at the sheets, go to roll from your back onto your side but a firm grip against your thighs keeps you planted. The feeling of restriction rouses you more, your eyelids fluttering, squinting against the darkness of your bedroom—

—and the long, hot slide of something wet against your clit has you snapping awake. 

Your eyes blink open as a breathless sound leaves your lips. Your hips buck up involuntarily against the unknown source of pleasure, a hot flush blooming across your skin. You go to rise up on your elbows, only to fall back again a breath later as you feel a strong suction against your swollen bud. 

A soft moan falls out of you, the sound snapping through the silence of your bedroom, filtering with the lewd wet sound coming from between your thighs.

Looking down, you’re greeted by the mess of ink-black hair spilling over your lower stomach, untied and untamed, tickling your skin with every movement. You can make out a single ear and black gauge amidst the dishevelled locks, the soft moonlight catching on its obsidian surface. 

Even if you couldn’t see, you could tell it was Suguru by the sounds of his deep groans alone. 

“F-fuck, Suguru,” you gasp as those tight lips clench harder around your clit. “Couldn’t… ah, couldn’t wait until the damn morning?” 

Something like a grunt and a moan is all you get in reply. Your hips go to roll again, but an arm is winding around your thigh—and a large hand presses down on your lower stomach to keep you still. Those sinful lips pop off of your clit with a wet smack. 

“Missed you,” you hear Suguru murmur, the words muffled against your hot flesh before he gives one long lick from your entrance upward. He moans as if the taste is all he needs to sustain him. “Missed this.” 

You bite your bottom lip, teeth dragging against the skin as your arm snakes down your body. Your fingers wind into those untamed locks, gripping the strands tightly at the root–and a rumbling moan vibrates against your hot, sensitive flesh in response. Suguru was always weak for having his hair pulled.

You rise up on one elbow. Your fingers tighten in his hair, your grip almost severe, but Suguru only groans again, his wet tongue sliding against your pussy messily. His head tilts up a little, two dark eyes looking up at you from underneath his lashes and the hair spilling across some of his face. Your own arousal glints against his lips and tongue, even his nose. A light flush blooms across his cheeks. He looks almost drunk.

He pushes against your grip easily, face diving back down an inch between your thighs. His tongue circles the slick rim of your entrance once again before sliding inside, a wet slurping sound filling the air—drinking from you like a man parched. A sharp nose bumps against your clit and you clench around his tongue tightly. 

“A-ah,” you roll your hips toward his mouth, feeling his tongue probe deeper, and Suguru makes no move to stop you this time. Instead, his large palm slides up across your stomach, dipping under your shirt to grab greedily at your breast. “You’ve r-really missed me, huh?” 

“You have no fucking idea,” he breathes out between thrusts of his tongue, voice muffled by your slick heat. Suguru wasn’t one for cursing often, but when he did, it never failed to make you clench, that coil in your gut winding a little tighter. “Couldn’t stop thinking about this.” 

Suguru pulls back his tongue, purses his lips, and a trickle of spit falls against your pussy, wetting you further. He smears it with his tongue, his grip on your breast tightening. His ministrations are sloppy, a mixture of his saliva and your own arousal coating his lower face, strands of his untied hair, your thighs and ass. 

“So fucking messy,” he groans, pinching at your nipple harshly almost as if you were to blame for all this. 

Suguru was typically methodical and precise when it came to your pleasure… that was until distance separated you. Then he became like this–wanting, hungry, filthy. Almost insatiable.

Typically, however, he had the patience and restraint to wait until morning. It seems tonight he had been in a rush—not even bothering to remove take off his own clothes or even your underwear fully, instead tugging them hastily to the side. They were damp too, you could feel it, and you wondered how long he had busied himself licking against the fabric until his impatience had pushed him forward. 

Your moans rise in both pitch and volume as he busies his tongue against your clit again, stimulating it in sure, quick circles with the tip. He lets the drool fall freely from his mouth until you feel it drip down between your cheeks to soak the bedsheets below you. You continue to tug and pull at his scalp, your hips twitching and your breathing growing increasingly ragged. 

Suguru can tell you’re growing close—he knows your body well enough by now to recognise the signs. Laboured breathing, moans turning to pitchy gasps, the grip on his hair that’s almost painful. He doesn’t waste any time in sliding two thick fingers inside you, the passage barely felt with how slick you are. The pads of his digits pressing against the soft part inside your walls that has your hips nearly flying off the bed; not thrusting, simply curling. Insistently. 

A guttural sound leaves Suguru’s lips in response, something like a growl. 

“Fuck!” You gasp, the combination of his tongue on your clit and his fingers massaging your spot sending you dizzy. Your lips are dry, parched, as you pant into the cool air. “I’m gonna’ fucking cum-“ 

Suguru’s fingers rub more firmly against your spot and that coil in your gut is winding so tight you fear you’ll ache in the morning. You know you’re going to crash. Hard. 

“Come on, come on,” Suguru is chanting against your pussy in breathless gasps. “Give it to me, my sweet thing, goddamn, give it—“ 

You glance down between eyelids that seem determined to clamp shut. You see Suguru’s face buried against you, hear the wet squelch of his fingers massaging you from the inside and you’re so close, so fucking close— 

Then you see the movements of Suguru’s hips; small twitches and slow grinds as he ruts his clothed cock against the mattress—the thought that he’s as aroused by this as you are, as he always is when he brings you pleasure like this—sends you careening over the edge. 

Your back bows, a harsh cry leaving your lips as your pussy clenches tight around his fingers. Eyes scrunched tight, you’re throbbing, crying out his name you think, but it’s hard to tell. Suguru’s groaning against you, whispered curses and praises falling from his lips like a symphony. 

The pleasure is blinding, seemingly infinite—Suguru’s tongue and fingers working you even now, pushing you further and further until you can’t take it anymore. When it gets too much, even for you, you tug his lips away from your oversensitive core by his hair. He removes his fingers of his own accord, a slick sound accompanying the movement. 

Your eyes are hazy, clouded, as you look at him, your breaths coming shallow and stilted. His face is soaked with you, his shining lips still parted, his tongue darting out to collect every drop as he stares back. The flush across his cheeks has darkened, and his breathing is shallow, too shallow—you recognise that look, it’s when— 

A breathless laugh falls past Suguru’s lips. He seems sated, yet drained. With a breath, he pulls his hand from your shirt and rises up onto his knees, his movements languid and sluggish. As he sits back on his haunches, his knees slightly spread, you get a clear view of the swell in his pants—and the large dark spot blooming around it. 

He had cum. Without touching himself. 

Suguru’s lips tug to one side as he looks down at you spread out before him. He doesn’t seem sheepish or embarrassed, only vaguely surprised, yet satisfied. His hair is a mess, strands clinging to his damp face and neck. His hand drifts down to his clothed, softening cock, giving it a small squeeze. It twitches in his grasp, and a small ‘hah’ leaves his mouth as his hips twitch. 

“Fuck,” he exhales as his eyelids flutter shut. “You made me cum.” He opens his eyes after a moment, letting his hand fall back to his thigh with a small sigh. “Couldn’t hold back. Not when you sounded like that.”  

You chuckle weakly as your heart calms down in your chest, feeling exhausted in the best possible way. “Not like you to lose control,” you murmur, a lazy smile on your face.

“No?” He slowly crawls over you, two forearms bracing near your head, his hair tickling your collarbones. He dips down to press his lips against yours in a wet, unhurried kiss. You sigh as you taste yourself on his tongue, the taste of both him and you making you melt against the mattress beneath you. He pulls back after a moment too short, settling his weight down against you, but even in his tired state he’s careful not to press fully. “I think you seem to be the best at making me lose my sense.”  

A nose brushes against yours, his eyelids fluttering shut in contentment. The weight against you grows a little heavier, and you imagine he must be beyond exhausted. 

But still, you’re both covered in fluid, sweat and spit. It’s a little gross. 

“We should shower,” you murmur, and Suguru hums in agreement. He makes no effort to move just yet, though. “And probably change the sheets.” 

Suguru exhales through his nose sharply in amusement, his eyes blinking open to look at you through a hooded gaze. “Who said we were done?”

You raise an eyebrow and glance over at the clock on the nightstand. 3:56am.  

“Sugur-“ 

His hips roll against yours, the fabric of his pants rubbing against your tender heat. You jolt a little, a small gasp leaving your lips in response to the stimulation—and the fact that Suguru is still very much hard underneath his trousers. 

You look up at him with a huff of disbelief. “You’re kidding. You need to rest—”

“I missed you so fucking much,” he cuts in, the words deep in tone as his lazy gaze bores into yours from above. There’s an undercurrent of need in his voice, something damningly close to desperation. “Badly.” His hips roll again, more firmly this time. Despite your reservations, you moan at the hard pressure of his cock against you–and the fact that Suguru, composed Suguru, always seemed to be insatiable. Only for you.

His smiles, something frayed at the edges as his grinding becomes more insistent, fervent. “Did you miss me too? Hah, fuck, go on. Tell me.” 

And you do.

You tell him how much you missed him many, many times that night—until warm sunlight filters into the room and you both fall asleep tangled together–amidst the very soiled sheets. 

masterlist.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Regarding the 5k, CONGRATULATIONS!! Its completely well deserved if not more! I started following not so long ago but I'm so happy for you and the fact that I get to celebrate this with you!

That aside... May I request. I'm in dare need for fluff about ANYone of the tf141, that can be your choice, like, who do you think would like/fit this the most. If not, preferably Price or Soap. I need to pamper this damn men!!!!!!

Heres the idea: whoever (?) comes home late for a deployment, super tired and newly injured, but to his surprese, you're still up. Upon seeing him you decide to fill the bath and pamper him! Help him wash and stuff, treat him RIGHT (?).

This can totally include cute banter and even some nsfw, given the situation hehe.

Again, I love your wrinting and I'm super happy for you!!

—Get In

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Coming home with bruises and stitched wounds, you drag him into the bathroom to wash away the memories.] ❞

You don’t think he expected you to be up this late, judging by the way his eyebrows lightly snapped up at the sight of you on the couch with the throw blanket over your shoulders. But he was a fool for thinking you wouldn’t wait when he had called you not five hours earlier to explain he was back in-country. 

“Love?” John asks, confused. He looks at the clock on the far wall and clicks on the living room light. You blink quickly, the TV having been your only source of illumination. “What are you doing up?” 

“What kind of a question is that?” Yawning, you speak the words through it, standing and padding over with eager feet. When you get in front of his imposing frame, you huff and tilt your head to him. “Did you expect to find me in bed, Captain? I should be offended that you find me so weak of mind.”

Your easy tease brings a smirk to John’s lips even as the bags under his eyes and the fresh stitches in his back pull painfully. He doesn’t want to worry you.

John grunts and grabs at your arm, grumbling through a growing smile as he drags you into him. 

“Never said that.” You chuckle, wrapping your arms around his waist. John lightly stiffens, but you barely notice because of the sudden sweep his scent has on your focus. Like an ardent wave in an ocean, you sigh and pay no mind to the sway.

“I know you didn’t, Handsome.” His small wince tips you off when you squeeze him, and you immediately pull back as the man curses himself.

The mood shifts.

“...John?”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” he sighs, grabbing you by the cheeks and pressing his lips into your forehead, breathing softly into your skin. You both stay like that for a minute before he utters again. “Just a scratch, Love, yeah?” 

“Is it bad,” you ask instantly, reaching for the hem of his shirt before he grabs your hand delicately and smiles in the way only he can. 

“Easy,” he whispers. “S’not bad, Love. Just aches a bit when I move. Sutures are pullin’.”

Your face falls. “Sutures?” 

John’s lips thin out under his beard hair. He knows he can’t get out of this and grunts his answer. “Shrapnel. Got it all out, but I’m off until they heal.” 

“Oh, John,” you sigh, tilting your head at him in pain as you hesitate to touch him again for fear it might hurt. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” he says, shaking his head from side to side. “No, Sweetheart, there’s nothing that you need to do for me, eh? Bein’ back here is better than the medicine those muppets tried to give me.”  

“Have you eaten?” You dote, moving back and taking him lightly by the sides of his biceps. Eyes snap up and down—suddenly more awake than you had been previously at the thought of John being injured. 

The sides of the man’s eyes wrinkle and he chuckles, capturing your cheeks before he leans into you as you make a slight noise of shock. He presses a firm kiss directly to your lips, not letting up until you sigh with reassurance and sag with comfort. 

John pulls back to tap his forehead against yours, a hand slipping to drag your body into his. You conform readily to his bulk, humming as he smirks.

“As much as I love the feeling of you touchin’ me, Sweetheart,” he teases, “I’ll be needing to clean up before bed.” 

You breathe out a silent sigh, still concerned but understanding that he’s tired—there could be more of this tomorrow. It’s late. 

“You’re dead on your feet,” you utter, moving to kiss his neck as he nearly purrs and slumps into you. “Let me spoil you.”

“...Don’t need to ask me twice,” he mutters, gazing down at you with a deep expression of love as his cheeks heat to a light shade of crimson.

You smile and move back, grabbing the man’s wrist to bring him to the bathroom for a hot bath. He stares at the back of your head as you do, shifting his hand to let his fingers be intertwined with yours and the heat of your flesh.

When you’re both in the bathroom, you tug at his shirt again, giving a soft order of, “off,” before you go and grasp the water handle, twisting the plug closed. John chuckles, shaking his head, and grasps his shirt casually—pulling up until his skin goes taut. 

He flinches slightly, grunting, but the strands of his hair still ruffle as he shuffles the fabric off and drops it to the floor. As you get the right temperature of water, he unbuckles his belt and slides it out of its loops. 

He strips down to nothing, you humming across the room as you go to grab a towel from the wrack, wiping your hand on it as the tub begins to fill quickly.

You look at John as he humphs and runs a hand over his beard. 

“Let me see,” your voice says over the water as you walk up to him, shifting behind John’s form and letting your hand trail from the front of his abdomen to the side of his waist. The man shivers at the scrape of your nails, eyes fluttering shut before you find the mess of his back. 

Red skin is stitched together as you carefully pull at the old gauze, small bits of blood trapped in white before you toss them to the counter. You close your eyes tightly and fight back tears. 

They were tiny but obviously deep from the amount of red and damage that was done to dig the shrapnel out—irritated even hours later.

“What are you thinking back there, then?” You press your lips into the wideness of his shoulder blades and breathe into him; he looks over his shoulder. 

“That my Lover should be more careful with himself,” you level. He knows how you feel, but even your insistence wouldn’t change his mind about this topic.

You move to turn off the water, kissing his skin again. He follows, walking over with heavy steps. John leans in close to your ear, pulling you over to slide his hand under your shirt.

“Join me?” He raises a brow, and you nod tinily. There would be no need to convince you. 

The both of you slip into the bath moments later, and you keep behind him to take the water and slip it along his wounds to clean them, digits caressing over the stitches and rubbing out the hard muscle. John grunts before he leans his spine back into you. 

Your eyes blink down in shock as he spreads his weight and lays it on your chest, body limp in the water as, smiling, you spread your fingers into his hair; also taking the time to slouch and let the wall be your backrest. 

John leans his face into your chin, kissing it reverently as you massage his scalp with dripping fingers. 

“Comfy?” You ask, everything silent beyond the sound of your shared breathing and the ripple of the bath.

John closes his eyes and lets you touch him as you see fit, letting you ease his aches and pains with a brush of your flesh and your lovely lips.

“Heavenly,” he breathes into your neck. 

You hum and kiss his forehead as if your lips could heal his wounds. If you tried hard enough, you hope one day they could.

TAGS:

@luuvbuzz, @emerald-valkyrie, @anna-banana27, @blueoorchid, @cryingnotcrying, @writeforfandoms, @homicidal-slvt, @jade-jax, @frazie99, @elmoees, @littlemisstrouble, @alpineswinter, @phoenixhalliwell, @idocarealot, @lavalleon, @facelessmemories, @h-leigh, @20forty9, @glitter-anon-asks, @emily-who-killed-a-man, @neelehksttr, @aeneanc, @escapefromrealitysm, @i-d-1-0-t, @pparcxysm, @hawkscanendme, @caramlizedtomatos, @waves-against-a-cliff, @sanfransolomitatm, @maelstrom007, @jemandderkeinenusernamenfindet, @pheobees, @glitterypirateduck, @uselsshuman, @fan-of-encouragement, @halfmoth-halfman, @ghostlythunderbird, @I-inkage, @pukbadger, @kopatych11, @0nceinabluem00n, @cocrorapop, @knightofsexyness, @abnormalgeil, @smallseastone, @jacegons, @330bpm-whiplash, @simon-rileys-housewife, @4-atsu, @tiredmetalenthusiast

[lookinghalfacorpse]

long overdue cdream seizure drabble for @icecreamvi. dream is finally healthy enough to fight again, but seizures still hit at inopportune times.

/dsmp /rp

It was good to see Dream fighting again.

In all fairness, this fight in particular was a bit annoying. Technoblade and Dream were on their way back home after some errands when they were ambushed in the forest. Techno learned over the years that people who got lost in that enchanted forest, designed by the Goddess of Death to disorient and confuse, grew desperate quickly. They were little more than petty thieves, but even stray dogs are dangerous when they're hungry.

And their archer was infuriating.

Dream raised his shield a bit above his head, stopping an arrow before it landed in Techno's shoulderblade. With his shield occupied, Dream held his opponent at bay while blocking with his axe. "You couldn't afford to watch your back a bit more?" He joked.

"Eh," Techno replied. He was more interested in tossing one of the swordsmen into a tree. Humans are too easy to throw around.

Dream wasn't anywhere close to his former strength, but he could hold his own in battle, and he still overpowered most opponents. It was impressive to watch. He was quick and clever, and he knew how to use his bodyweight as a source of power, even after all the weight he lost. He was quick to disarm the swordsman that opposed him, and while the poor soul scrambled back to his feet and scanned around him for options, Dream stepped forward and smoothly raised his axe above his head--

--when suddenly his shoulder shuddered, and the axe dropped to the snow.

Dream gasped as air was forced out of his lungs, a hand raising to his chest in panic. Techno was familiar with the warning signs of a seizure. He's helped Dream endure countless seizures, both in the Vault and outside of it. He heard the creak of the archer's bow and bolted over to Dream just in time to guard him from an arrow. Instead of landing in Dream's skull, it sunk deep into Techno's mid-back.

Techno tried not to react to the sting. "Hey, Dream--"

Dream made a pained sound as the seizure took hold, his knees giving out and his shoulders spasming. His right shoulder twisted backwards while the left trembled uncontrollably. He fell fully into Techno's arms, his moans giving way to silence as he ran out of breath.

A second arrow hit Techno's shoulder. A third near the base of his neck. The swordsman, seeing his opening, lunged towards his blade.

They needed to run.

Techno gathered Dream's body in his arms and sprinted for the forest. With any luck, its disorienting effects could lend them an advantage. Dream's hands clawed into the fabric of his shirt, pulling it at odd, uncomfortable angles. Techno had to keep adjusting his grip as the young man squirmed and seized, desperate not to hold him too tightly and risk hurting him.

As soon as he couldn't hear arrows fly anymore, Techno ducked behind a large tree and set Dream on the ground, hunching his body protectively over him. If that damn archer found them again, he'd see nothing but piglin.

"Breathe through it," Techno instructed, his own breath heavy from the exertion.

Dream met his eyes. Sometimes he seemed lucid throughout the seizure while other times he seemed more unconscious. This time, his gaze was watery and heartbroken, but intelligent. "Te-- Tech-- Tech--"

"I said breathe, not talk, nerd." Techno placed a hand on Dream's shoulder, rubbing along the fabric of his jacket slowly. "Relax."

Fully encompassed by Technoblade's body, half-buried in snow, and surrendering to a seizure, Dream looked so small.

"You're--bleeding--" Dream coughed, his voice strained as his jaw tightened.

"And you're seizin'. I'd say we're both doin' pretty great."

"I'm--"

"Dream. Hush."

"I'm--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorr--"

Techno bowed his head until their foreheads touched, letting his eyes fall closed. They'd ride this out together, like they always did.

"--sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

[raz-writes-the-thing]

Sleepy Things (Good Omens Drabble)

Aziraphale x Crowley x GN!Reader / requests are: open

Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley sleep much, but they love to cuddle you to sleep when the opportunity arises.

CW: none, just incredibly soft.

Gomens tag list: @coffee-and-red-lipstick @quickslvxrr (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

___ ___ ___ ___ ___

Neither Aziraphale nor Crowley tend to sleep much. They didn’t need to. Aziraphale, in fact, didn’t like to sleep at all if he could avoid it. He’d much rather spend the time poring over a first edition from 1270AD, or restoring old manuscripts than spend the time with his eyes closed and asleep. 

Crowley on the other hand, did like to sleep. Not all the time, and not overly often, but sometimes he’d enjoy a little kip. The only thing that was unpredictable about Crowley’s sleep pattern was how long he’d sleep for. Would it be three hours, three days or three weeks? You’d never know for sure until he deigned himself to wake up. 

And yet, despite neither of them being overly fond of sleep, here they were. Curled up on either side of you. Crowley was currently occupied being your big spoon, and Aziraphale was cuddled up to your front, your face resting on the soft cotton of his pyjama top. He’d bought a pair just so he could cuddle in bed with you.

Crowley was shirtless, the heat radiating off him in waves. Crowley’s choice for pyjamas was either completely naked or a dark pair of faded track pants slung low on his hips. He was nuzzling up against your hair, taking a soft sniff of your shampoo every once in a while. You were fading in and out of consciousness, trying to hang on to keep yourself awake and in this precious, soft moment. 

“Come on now, love,” Crowley says quietly into your ear. “No use in fighting it- eh?” 

“He’s right you know,” Aziraphale says. If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think he sounded vaguely scolding. You can feel the loving smile coming off his face, though. 

One of your Angel’s hands traced over your side and across your body to draw lines into Crowley’s exposed torso. The Demon took a deep and contented breath, and you yawned quietly, trying to hide just how harshly sleep tugged at you. Aziraphale brushed your nose with his forefinger before returning it to its former place across the both of you. “Look how tired you are, sweet thing.”

Crowley snuggles closer to yours and Aziraphale’s touch, trying to expose as much skin as he can to Aziraphale’s reach. He’d never admit it out loud, but he was quite the fan of casual contact. He was always sidling up to one of you, or both if available and subtly touching you, or quietly requesting someone touch him. A pat to the thigh, a brush of the hair, a chaste kiss when no one was looking. 

“Mm-” Crowley grunts quietly, sounding like he’s close to dropping off too, to be honest. “Exhausted. Absolutely worn out, aren’t you, Pet?” 

You hum in agreement, your eyelids drooping closed. Your legs stretched out, the muscles squeaking from disuse. Aziraphale chuckled and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“My loves,” he says softly. “Sleepy things. Go on and sleep now. I’ve got my Austen, I’ll be here when you wake.” 

[sharkfinx]

Without an answer to his pledge, his inner turmoil worsens as he cannot contain and burn the surplus of chakra that he greedy cling to. Steps that distance themselves only turn his heart inside out. Kisame closes his eyes in an exhausted sight that knows his actions were unworthy of a warrior's death.

A pressure over his ribs jolts him awake, making his lips twitch from the pain. His detection is drowned by his own chakra and he has to open his eyes and see. 

Killed by one the legendary sannin. That would put him together with other historical figures. Dying in the battlefield as the ones before him would be such an honor. He's grateful for their mercy as his head moves to show his neck at full view. 

He knows and he accepts it—

Even at his lowest and most pathetic stance, Kisame grins as he cannot do anything but chuckle at that. Ouchy. "Couldn't you have killed me before rejecting me.... would hurt less." 

He called him Cinderella for running away without saying anything, leaving him just a little clue. Deeply inside he knows doesn't he? From the first time they were paired up up to their first mission together, his manners gave away everything for someone that knew to recognize. The same similarities that made him comfortable in the only way he disliked. 

Kisame squints in pain because of the weight over his chest. The way his straight hair falls from his shoulders as he stands right over the sunlight turns Orochimaru into angelic's figure. For a moment his vision blurs and the shinobi's is changed by someone else entirely with closed eyes and peach skin. The hair and the face are almost identical. He blinks and only Orochimaru is there again.

You're beautiful, nee

He thinks but is too tired to say anything. A true killing intent is the charming thing anyone from their country could have, the peak of any emotion.The next information washes his brain, gears click in together and everything falls together in a perfect puzzle. He can see the image clear as day.

The one from the tales he heard before sleep when he was a little pup? The stolen prince; the only defeat the Hoshigaki had in the entirety of their alliance. Skin white as snow with the hair darker than night. Still with that failure; the third welcomed them with open arms.

By the gods and demons that live in earth and sea. What has he done? He can almost feel a bamboo sword hitting his head repeatedly for that mistake. 

Those yellow eyes stare at his soul and his heart freezes in place and melts again when he feels his hair being touched.

"...... My salvation." He whispers. Unblinking dot eyes stare back. 

Kisame acknowledged their anger, their confusion. "To kill him and to share rice." He feels silly, but he himself only understood his own feelings a bit too late than he hoped. He wanted to meet Orochimaru, not to kill. Killing him was his excuse to meet him. An excuse to his heart doesn't hurt as it did many ways before. It was just an excuse. 

Too bad it's too late now. 

The sound of the sword crashing down but there's no pain. He feels the pressure onto his chest.

Dog? He feels a hook pull his heart out in a shameful way. 

Is it possible to miss something you never had? He doesn't resemble to ever hug that man before, yet; It feels so comfortable. He's so happy like he never felt before. It's better than a glimmering curtain that hides his view of the future with a beautiful cloth. He's just so damn comfortable. It's the warmness he felt on summer days when the rays of the sun passed the mist. The comfort of a familiar scent, of daily simple tasks that reminds him of simpler happier times.

This is how happiness feels like.

The painful confusing aching in his heart is slowly drowned. There's a deep sound that starts quietly as his breathing as his chest reverberates a purring. His chakra stabilizes. It flows to his veins and his teeth marks start to close down. It burns as it should in the natural cycle. His body is still exhausted. Yet he feels rested as never before.

"I didn't… nee….The stories said it was an gentle prince… you're a mean guy." How could he? He had buried his past too deeply. The only way to kill the homesickness was to forget. Now he remembers.

He listens and listens about redemption, about what He wants, about what He will do.

To give away his freedom, his own desire that could engulf the world with the power of his greed too. Just for someone like him to have peace? Is equal to exchanging a silver pear crown for raw iron, and saying the same iron is more worthy than the earth itself. He feels worthy, he feels…..found.

“I heard you..” He whispers to the face that is glued to his, his scent is so nice. He dares to say better than his father even if he barely remembers. It’s instinct—it’s stronger than him this imprinting of generations. His fingers can move, he feels the itchiness of the movements as he passes them around their waist. Slowly, grabbing. Raising his arms as he tried to embrace him. “Nee....Can’t I just stay here?.” Kisame’s voice sounds spoiled, like a kid. His face moves, nuzzling their cheeks togethers in a type of affection he won’t show since his childhood’s years.  “I don’t want redemption….I want to cut tenderloins for you. “I don’t want to retire … I want to be annoyed at you when you look at me.” “I don’t want to be a hero..... I want to sniff your hair when you aren’t looking.” He licks again, close by the corner of their lips as his arms finally can fully hug him back. He missed him so much. “Let's make a new tradition.. like the ones before us and renew our bloodline family’s vows. Yagura… never did it, since most of the Hoshigakis didn’t accept how the third had been killed.” His hands cover the back of their head, brushing bangs with his fingers.  Moving his face so their forehead is glued together. The purring on his chest continues as he grins like a happy dog. “….. Once we share a meal, nee. You can be my new home.... Even if I have to steal from your mouth. Orochimar..." His back is pushed forward making him sit, still holding the sannin in his arms. Samehada’s growling can be heard as they bite on Kisame’s side, it’s their first meal in the whole day. The chakra now is tasty enough to them forgive Kisame’s bad manners. “... 2 versus 1. It’s settled……I have to take my ring off, nee. Would you do it for me?”

Without an answer to his pledge, his inner turmoil worsens as he cannot contain and burn the surplus of chakra that he greedy cling to. Steps that distance themselves only turn his heart inside out. Kisame closes his eyes in an exhausted sight that knows his actions were unworthy of a warrior's death.

A pressure over his ribs jolts him awake, making his lips twitch from the pain. His detection is drowned by his own chakra and he has to open his eyes and see. 

Killed by one the legendary sannin. That would put him together with other historical figures. Dying in the battlefield as the ones before him would be such an honor. He's grateful for their mercy as his head moves to show his neck at full view. 

He knows and he accepts it—

Even at his lowest and most pathetic stance, Kisame grins as he cannot do anything but chuckle at that. Ouchy. "Couldn't you have killed me before rejecting me.... would hurt less." 

He called him Cinderella for running away without saying anything, leaving him just a little clue. Deeply inside he knows doesn't he? From the first time they were paired up up to their first mission together, his manners gave away everything for someone that knew to recognize. The same similarities that made him comfortable in the only way he disliked. 

Kisame squints in pain because of the weight over his chest. The way his straight hair falls from his shoulders as he stands right over the sunlight turns Orochimaru into angelic's figure. For a moment his vision blurs and the shinobi's is changed by someone else entirely with closed eyes and peach skin. The hair and the face are almost identical. He blinks and only Orochimaru is there again.

You're beautiful, nee

He thinks but is too tired to say anything. A true killing intent is the charming thing anyone from their country could have, the peak of any emotion.The next information washes his brain, gears click in together and everything falls together in a perfect puzzle. He can see the image clear as day.

The one from the tales he heard before sleep when he was a little pup? The stolen prince; the only defeat the Hoshigaki had in the entirety of their alliance. Skin white as snow with the hair darker than night. Still with that failure; the third welcomed them with open arms.

By the gods and demons that live in earth and sea. What has he done? He can almost feel a bamboo sword hitting his head repeatedly for that mistake. 

Those yellow eyes stare at his soul and his heart freezes in place and melts again when he feels his hair being touched.

"...... My salvation." He whispers. Unblinking dot eyes stare back. 

Kisame acknowledged their anger, their confusion. "To kill him and to share rice." He feels silly, but he himself only understood his own feelings a bit too late than he hoped. He wanted to meet Orochimaru, not to kill. Killing him was his excuse to meet him. An excuse to his heart doesn't hurt as it did many ways before. It was just an excuse. 

Too bad it's too late now. 

The sound of the sword crashing down but there's no pain. He feels the pressure onto his chest.

Dog? He feels a hook pull his heart out in a shameful way. 

Is it possible to miss something you never had? He doesn't resemble to ever hug that man before, yet; It feels so comfortable. He's so happy like he never felt before. It's better than a glimmering curtain that hides his view of the future with a beautiful cloth. He's just so damn comfortable. It's the warmness he felt on summer days when the rays of the sun passed the mist. The comfort of a familiar scent, of daily simple tasks that reminds him of simpler happier times.

This is how happiness feels like.

The painful confusing aching in his heart is slowly drowned. There's a deep sound that starts quietly as his breathing as his chest reverberates a purring. His chakra stabilizes. It flows to his veins and his teeth marks start to close down. It burns as it should in the natural cycle. His body is still exhausted. Yet he feels rested as never before.

"I didn't… nee….The stories said it was an gentle prince… you're a mean guy." How could he? He had buried his past too deeply. The only way to kill the homesickness was to forget. Now he remembers.

He listens and listens about redemption, about what He wants, about what He will do.

To give away his freedom, his own desire that could engulf the world with the power of his greed too. Just for someone like him to have peace? Is equal to exchanging a silver pear crown for raw iron, and saying the same iron is more worthy than the earth itself. He feels worthy, he feels…..found.

“I heard you..” He whispers to the face that is glued to his, his scent is so nice. He dares to say better than his father even if he barely remembers. It’s instinct—it’s stronger than him this imprinting of generations. His fingers can move, he feels the itchiness of the movements as he passes them around their waist. Slowly, grabbing. Raising his arms as he tried to embrace him. “Nee....Can’t I just stay here?.” Kisame’s voice sounds spoiled, like a kid. His face moves, nuzzling their cheeks togethers in a type of affection he won’t show since his childhood’s years.  “I don’t want redemption….I want to cut tenderloins for you. “I don’t want to retire … I want to be annoyed at you when you look at me.” “I don’t want to be a hero..... I want to sniff your hair when you aren’t looking.” He licks again, close by the corner of their lips as his arms finally can fully hug him back. He missed him so much. “Let's make a new tradition.. like the ones before us and renew our bloodline family’s vows. Yagura… never did it, since most of the Hoshigakis didn’t accept how the third had been killed.” His hands cover the back of their head, brushing bangs with his fingers.  Moving his face so their forehead is glued together. The purring on his chest continues as he grins like a happy dog. “….. Once we share a meal, nee. You can be my new home.... Even if I have to steal from your mouth. Orochimar..." His back is pushed forward making him sit, still holding the sannin in his arms. Samehada’s growling can be heard as they bite on Kisame’s side, it’s their first meal in the whole day. The chakra now is tasty enough to them forgive Kisame’s bad manners. “... 2 versus 1. It’s settled……I have to take my ring off, nee. Would you do it for me?”

[leezlelatch]

I love your writing and style. It's been a hard week and it's made me happy after discovering it. Just wondering if you, if you had the time, could write a slightly smutty drabble. I love your take on protective doll baby Copia. He's perfect.

With the last few months I'd love to read a ficlette where he discovers the reader almost in tears after being torn down by people, told that she's worthless, and now doubting herself because of the complete lack of self esteem which is even worse after this. Copia goes into DarkCopia mode while loving her like the badass he is. He doesn't like it when people hurt his gal. And he makes sure she knows how much worth he sees in her.

Truly though, even if you don't have time...your stuff has made me happy. <3

Hello, my friend. I'm so sorry this week has been hard. I hope it has improved, and I am so happy that my writing has made a difference! Here is a little something for you from me, and Copia. <3

Copia x Reader - hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive, a little smutty, protective Copia, suggestively Dark!Copia.

The old key slipping into the lock rouses you from your light doze, and your eyes feel heavy as you turn over, watching as Copia steps into his quarters, his gaze lowered as he shifts his takeout bag from one hand to the other, depositing the key back into his pocket. He raises his head, and you make eye contact. Two things happen in that moment that makes the hair raise on your arms, and your heart warm with affection at the same time. Copia takes in the sight of you, curled up like a burrito in his blanket, your nose tucked into the fabric, eyes red. He knows it’s because you’re trying to find comfort in his scent. He knows you, in and out. His expression freezes in a ghastly stare, his eyes narrowed, lips set in a deep frown which accentuates the wrinkles around his mouth. His brows are pulled down, and he appears paler than he usually does. In short, he looks ready to hurt someone. 

But then it falls away. Cold fury melting into concern, and he drops his bag at the door, uncaring as the takeout boxes tumble and rest on their sides in his haste to reach you. Gloved hands pull you from the blankets, settling you across his lap, his arms cradling you. His face grows very close to yours, searching your eyes with a certain desperation. Copia is another person when it comes to you. The endearing, funny Papa is gone and replaced by someone who is calculating, smart, one step ahead. The real him. The one he hides, the clergy unaware that the puppet is actually the puppet master. You’re precious to him, and there is nothing this man would not do to keep you happy and safe.

“Baby,” he says very softly, his accent curling around the endearment. “Tell Papa what happened, eh?” His thumb rubs beneath your eye. “What are the tears for?”

“I had a hard day,” you respond, your voice a little hoarse. His brow furrows, and one of his hands slides its way down your body, feeling, prodding gently, as if he were checking for some external injury. “I’m okay, Copia.”

“Okay is not finding il mio amore all wrapped up and crying.” He works at removing a glove, slipping each finger out of the leather. He flexes his hand once it’s removed, and it makes you smile, even if just a little. Copia said to you before that he was used to it, but you know the constricting leather became a little much after a long day. 

“Somebody said something to me today,” you murmur, taking his hand and holding it to your face. His fingers cradle your jaw, the warmth of his skin encouraging you to speak. “And I feel like I just…can’t do right. That I’m not right. I can’t even face myself in the mirror because I’m afraid of what I’ll see.” You pause, gathering your thoughts. “I’m afraid to see that they’re right.”

Copia sucks in a shaky breath when you finish, and you can already see his mind working. “My love, I don’t want you going after anyone,” you say, reaching to grasp his chin, squeezing it gently. “I’m not telling you this to make you angry.”

He stares down at you, and then he nods slowly. Copia shifts back onto the bed so his back is against the wall and he adjusts his hold on you, looking thoughtful as his fingers pick up a soothing rhythm against your cheek. “There are a few things I need to be correcting, amore. And I need you to be good for your Papa, and listen. I will never allow a single soul in this building or elsewhere to hurt you. That goes for all our Siblings, but you are not just a Sibling, sì? You are my amore. Also,” he clicks his tongue. “The peoples are wrong. They will learn that they are wrong. And you, vita mia, also need to be corrected.”

You’re listening intently, your eyes trained on his features, adoring how expressive his features are when he speaks, but his last words make you pause. “I have to be corrected?” That was the last thing you expected to hear. 

“Yes,” Copia says, drawing out the word, his expression set. You’re bewildered when he doesn’t elaborate, letting out a sound of surprise as he firmly guides you up and out of the bed. 

“Copia, no-,” you begin to protest as he approaches the full length mirror near his dresser, your hand tightly wrapped in his grip. Copia pins you with a look that shuts your mouth, and he takes you by the shoulders, setting you directly in the reflection of the mirror. 

“We shall start here,” he says, his fingers tapping beneath your chin. “You will watch, and listen.” Copia circles you like a vulture, his hands clasped behind his back. “When you smile, I want to smile too.” His voice has lowered, tender and affectionate. “I am not so proud of my teeth, but I would smile ear to ear just to match your joy. That is healing for me, amore. You do that.”

Fingers brush your cheek. “You blush at the sight of me. At the sight of me. So beautiful and sweet, and I am sure that I have seen the depths of paradise. And the way your eyes light up when you’re excited, oh…,” he laughs softly to himself, his voice almost a coo. “Do you realize how lucky I am to know your eyes? To watch your brow furrow or rise. To see emotion pass over your face. To read the story of your life through every blemish and line.”

Your breath is stolen from your lungs, and you’re already crying. Copia’s hands shake as they grasp your hips, standing now close behind you, his voice a gentle whisper in your ear. His breath makes you shiver, and you feel his hips shift against your backside. “You’re biased,” you whisper, and he laughs.

“I am very proud of this, amore. It is a gift to be biased,” he murmurs, his eyes catching yours in the mirror. “It is a gift to have you.” His hands slip beneath your shirt, grasping and kneading at soft skin. You make a breathless noise, leaning back against him, and Copia almost purrs. “Hmm, you are liking your Papa’s touches?”

They slip higher, fingers grazing your nipples, and he pauses there. You whimper, caught between your emotions and your arousal, and Copia knows how to play you like the finest instrument. When to touch, and when to pause, letting it all wash over you, giving you the time you need to feel safe in his arms. “Your body,” he says, pressing his hips firmly into the curve of your ass. “Ignites a fire inside of me, you know? I am incomplete when I am not joined with you.” He’s almost growling now, a rough edge to his voice. 

You’re spun around in his arms and he captures your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue thoroughly plundering your mouth and rendering you incapable of any thought. Copia has a talent at making you forget, and suddenly the cruel words from today have all but vanished from your mind. “I love you,” he hisses, nipping at your bottom lip. His hand grasps your chin, raising your eyes to his, and his tone softens. “I love you.”

He kisses you softly now, his lips curling into a smile. “You are worth everything. You don’t need to look into the mirror, amore, just look into my eyes. I see you. I see the glory in you. And you will always have a home with me. You are safe with me.”

Another tear falls down your cheek and he kisses it away. “I love you, too,” you whisper, leaning your forehead against his. Your hand slips beneath the waistband of his trousers, and he gasps, arching into your touch.

“Do not think,” he murmurs, his voice a little strained as he pushes you toward the bed. “That this does not mean they will be…removed. Papa protects what is his.”

[sozila]

chiaroscuro. (nanami x reader)

synopsis: as a princess, you had a duty to the country. to knight kento nanami, you simply were his everything.

pairing: personal knight!kento nanami x princess!fem reader.

warnings: 18+, mdni. eventual sexual descriptions.

masterlist | previous | next

you are on: realization. part one of three

a/n:

hello lovelies 🩷 i was watching my lady jane and immediately had an urge to write this, so here’s a knight nanami moment for you guys :) it’ll just be three parts, like a longer drabble if you will. enjoy!!

realization. (part one)

“princess, we really must make haste.”

the hydrangeas you were admiring were no longer sunlit with the long figured shadow cast behind you. you hum absently and continue down the ivy-stone pathway, your cream heels clicking softly. 

“another five minutes will not kill my father, kento.”

knight kento nanami had to hold back a sigh. he knew better than to believe you would simply do what you were royally asked of. granted he would never dare to oppose your highness, sometimes he wished he could advise you away from the uphill battle approach you so loved to choose. it was a bit of mental torture for the young man to silently bear witness as you pleased with no fear of consequence. despite it all, he admired your courage and resilience. you were a very tough woman with a strong heart. compassion that grew for miles and miles, you simply amazed him. that kind of care was rare in this world.

you couldn’t hear the man following behind you, but you developed a sense of knowing he was always there. my loyal shadow, you’d tease him. your nimble hands brush by the soft petals and leaves of the flowers as you take in the same gardens you’ve been seeing— no, binded to, since your birth. 

“a divine princess does not go on outings whenever she pleases!” your governess snapped, slapping her cold cane on your tiny wrists. hot tears welled in the corners of your eyes. “princesses do not show weakness, either,” she huffed and shakes her head at the sight of you as if you were some reckless, hair-brained animal. the memories of your early schooling were rarely pleasant ones. any and all curiosity you had was intended to be stomped out, replaced with knowledge about ballroom dance, fashion history, etiquette. these were the makings of a good, silent wife in the future, best for political marriage union. however, you were not an easy soul to shatter. if anything, the treatment encouraged you tenfold.

you come to a halt at a fully bloomed gardenia bush, dropping your head to inhale the spicy aroma. ironic. its alabaster skin symbolized purity, innocence, refinery— but smelled like pure freedom and rebellion to you. a smile graces your pristine face, head tilted to give your knight a cheeky side eye. 

“alright then kento, let us see to what father dearest requires of me.”

when you reach the king’s gentleman’s room, your father stands with two men you hadn’t seen before. one looked older than your father and the other rather youthful. platinum white hair caught your attention first, but were soon replace with his unusual eyes. they were the sharpest arctic blue you’ve ever seen in your life. they felt.. cold. unwelcome. you notice kento settle at the corner of the room to stand guard out of the corner of your eye, a silent spectator. 

“ah! come come, daughter. meet his royal highness king masako gojo and his son, prince satoru gojo.” 

your face blanches. sharp ringing infiltrating your ears and you couldn’t grasp anything anymore. you knew what was occurring in this very moment. 

like clockwork, you curtsy and bow to both nobles. the older king simpers, nodding in approval. “a quiet and obedient one. this alliance will go swimmingly,” he chortles and slaps the prince’s back, giving a whisper you didn’t miss. “easier when they don’t speak, eh?” his joke falls flat as the young man seemed heavily disinterested in taking part in his father’s misogynistic capers. 

kento’s jaw ticks, the grip on his sword handle tightening as he fought back the urge to beat the old man to a pulp.

the words didn’t miss your hearing. nose held high, you flash an icy smile and clasp your hands together to keep from slapping the ever-loving sense out of the greasy monarch yourself.

“quite the contrary, your highness. i just don’t interest myself in speaking to puny-minded individuals.”

a low chuckle was quickly masked with a couple coughs from the prince, while king masako’s face sported a blotchy red out of anger and embarrassment.

you father’s eyes flashed with harsh warning at you. your antics were borderline detonating and were no longer found trivial and silly by him. this was the future of the nation at stake, alongside securing your prosperity. he plasters a nervous smile on his face and continues despite your outward rudeness.

“i deeply apologize for my daughter’s behavior- she simply has a sharp tongue. dearest, you are to acquaintance yourself with the prince the next three months for it has been decided you shall marry to bring our kingdoms together in harmony. you should treat them with the utmost respect.” you scoff. how grand of your own kin taking the outsider’s side rather than defend your honor. the anger within you boils. “and when was this decided?” you say with a raised brow. your father looks a little exasperated. 

king masako grins his greasy smile once more and steps forward to meet your eye, looking down on you. “didn’t you know? this has been arranged since your birth.. and my son’s.” 

your blood runs cold. you knew that you were to be wed and that it was your purpose as this country’s princess, but to know you were just a prize pig? your whole life? and not a soul told you that you were promised from the beginning. you feel your mother’s absence in your childhood, your father’s transactional love. all pieces to the puzzle that finally clicked for you— you’re just a pawn.

you slam your palms on the oak table. “i am not getting married unless it is my will to do so,” you seethe at the men. prince’s lips quirk up at your boldness. how curious.

kento brows scrunch in concern as to how this will play out for you. you father doesn’t mask his rage this time around. “who said anyone will abide your will? you forget your place,” he shouts at you like you’re an insolent child. “no, YOU forget that i am crown princess of this nation and i can very well be the reason it burns to the ground!” you scream back with equal fervor. “you undeserving wench! get out of my sight. get out!!” your father’s voice shakes with intensity and angry tears threaten to spill but you refuse to let them see you weak. 

kento’s resolve wavers when he hears the nasty insult come from the king’s mouth. you, a wench? he hasn’t known his daughter a day in his life. kento, however, spent nearly every waking moment observing you, protecting you. he knew your mannerism and habits, what you wore and what you liked or disliked. he knew you liked reading history books and devouring sweet peach tarts. he knew your allergies kicked up when your room was freshly cleaned. he knew you dreamed and raved about wanting more than the closed life you lived, to travel and see the world, and then maybe, just maybe, settle into a small cottage farm with a garden you curated for yourself. more than anything, he knew you were the farthest thing from a wench. what a wretched word. he wanted to demand your father apologize, but that would be a most highest treason to oppose the king in such a manner. especially as a ranked personal knight. he holds back for your sake. 

your head snaps to the prince. “i would rather die before the chance you and i shall wed,” you spit at him before you march out of the room, kento in tow. as kento exits, you slam the crested door with finality. your heels carry you before you realize it and you’re running down the halls, dress flowing and eyes blurry. maids walking by look at you and whisper, a butler trying to stop you and ask if you are alright but you brush by, his efforts in vain. once you reach your room, kento begins to follow and you stop him, looking up with shiny eyes. “please leave me be, kento,” you whisper, tears trickling down silently. 

kento feels his heart squeeze painfully at the sight. he hated seeing you upset. it would take the most evil person in world to reduce you to such anguish and your father was just that. he wanted to comfort you, to selfishly hold you close and whisper sweet nothings to you as you cried your heart out. but he knew that that was his guilty want, and you wished to feel through this pain by yourself. hesitantly, he nods and steps back. you close the door and immediately crumple to the floor, your body wracked with sobs. you felt so alone and insignificant. 

in this moment, kento could do nothing but helplessly listen to you. 

you eventually cried yourself to tiredness. you fell asleep with dried tears stained on your cheeks, draped over your footboard bench in an odd angle. kento had turned away all servants at your door, but took a plate of tarts and water on a tray. he waited for the halls to empty, the night soon befalling. 

he quietly opened your door with tray in hand, walking in as stealthy as he usually carries himself. the moonlight shone from the large windows of your balcony onto your slumped figure. you looked positively ethereal. the remnants of your grief didn’t hinder your natural beauty. kento felt dirty to admit you almost looked beautiful with tears painted on your glass skin. he brushed the thoughts from his mind and set the tray down on your table. 

he wasn’t allowed to be in your quarters at this distance but he couldn’t bear not making sure you were alright. a breeze from the open windows blows in gently and he catches you shiver. he thinks for a moment and eventually decides to just do it — he carefully picks you up from the floor to put you snugly in to your bed. this action causes you to awake slightly. you stir, rubbing your eyes. kento looks down at you in his arms in surprise. you looked like a soft pretty lamb, he thought. 

“kento..? where.. where am i?” he walks around the bed to lay you down carefully, standing beside you. “your room, princess. you came in yourself, remember?” the memories of the day flooded back to touch and your expression turns grim. “ah.. yes. i’m so sorry you had to come in and take care of me.” kento shakes his hand dismissing your worry. “nonsense. this is my duty as your protector.” you offer a small smile despite your low feelings. “it is greatly appreciated.” 

silence falls between the two of you. kento is looking at you with deep thought- he’s trying to formulate his message in a way that wouldn’t be overstepping of him, but— 

“i want to run away.” 

“what?!”

i'm so sorry if this feels abrupt :( since this is going to be three parts i had to split it at equal lengths in events </3 but!! do not fret!!! the next two will be up shortly to make up for it ;) peace luv bathtub!

© sozila 2024, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarize, translate, or repost any of my work on other mediums or sites. cross-posts on ao3 and tumblr under same alias.

[kk43mi]

needy┊kabukimono

PAIRING ┊ kabukimono x f!reader(dom-ish) GENRE ┊smut WC ┊ 1.2k+ WARNINGS ┊ obsessive behavior , somnophilia , clinginess , pussy eating , fingering , blowjob , good boy , lowercase intended!!! SYNOPSIS ┊ the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki, he became obsessed with the feeling and pleasure. always asking for more and more, at the wrong time and place, outside at the woods? he wanted it. other people were around? he wanted it. you were busy with work? he wanted it. A/N ┊ written by kam , hope you guys enjoy ! been thinking about this for a long while, time to let it out. a little drabble btw!

the first time you gave a blowjob to kabuki was when he asked about it, he heard about people talking about getting into the act of intimacy and that made him all flustered.

he got all shy and fidgeting with his fingers asking if he could do it too. "n-niwa was talking about doing stuff like...I dont know...like the thing...its embarrassing.."

of course you had to help your poor baby out, guiding him to the bedroom and taking his clothes off for him. he gets all shy saying "do i have to be naked...?" he asks so innocently.

"yes, now relax you wanna do this right?" you would reassure him and he would nod.

moaning and shuddering out of pleasure when your tongue starts kitten licking his tip, making him seeing stars already, hips bucking upwards as his back arch in an impossible angle.

the way his tip was inside your mouth had him whining and whimpering. "a-ah! so-so good..! mgh..mmgnh-!!"

and thats when he lost it as his whole cock was inside your mouth, touching the deep parts of your throat. which makes you gag a couple times, but he holds onto your head for leverage, gripping a handful of your hair, trying to withstand the pleasure.

hes so cute trying to hide his little whines and moans by biting his bottom lips, maybe a little blood trickling down mixed in with his drool.

he came on the spot,since this was his first time initiating in any kind of action, it wasn't surprising. but you swallowed it all, gulping down the white substance. hips shaking, and he let out the most pornographic moan ever.

"that-that felt so good y/n...one more..?" he asks so innocently and you let out a chuckle. "one wasn't enough?" he shakes his head as he pleas for another one.

and from there on, he always asked for you to pleasure him. even when you got back from work he would get up from his seat jumping up to you in thrill. giving you a tight hug and kissing your lips.

"y/n! youre back youre back! can we do it now? pleaseeee? ive been waiting all day..." he would pout.

"eh..but we did it yesterday already-and it was the first time...you got addicted..?" you would laugh it off but he wasnt having it. "noo pleaseeee, i havent released the whole day...need you.." he would say before rubbing himself on you.

"but im worn out...next when im free alright?" you try your best to convince, but all he did was pout and cry.

"dont you love me? cmon ill just do all the work this time!" he whines and you just sigh in defeat.

"alright fine...just only one time." he would nod before dragging you to the bedroom, already taking yours and his clothes off.

"n-ngh-! ah-fuck.." you moaned out as he ate your pussy out as if he hasn't eaten in years. slurping and licking your folds, sucking on your clit. "so good~ you taste so good..." he would mutter out.

he was always so hungry for your pussy, always chowing down on it as if there was no tomorrow. eating your pussy out as he rubbed his cock against the mattress to get some friction. even if you were begging him to slow down and trying to get away sometimes, he would just pull you back in by the thighs and eat you out.

if you were tired he would just do everything just so he could cum. bottoming out as he inserted his cock inside. makes him whine in pleasure, he couldnt help but move on the spot! thrusting himself at a fast pace while he kissed you with both elbows resting on both sides of your head.

you would whine, telling him to please slow down but he just couldnt! your pussy felt too good, squeezing so tight and good around his cock, you can basically feel him twitching, knowing he was close.

"gonna cum...! cum..cum cum cum!" he said as his thrusts gets sloppier and faster. "ah-wait not inside!" you screamed out but he kept going till he would reach his high. "kabuki!"

he would finally pull out, cumming on your stomach, and even on your face. then you squirting on his cock and stomach as both of the individuals could be heard trying to catch up their breath. but you can feel him sliding his cock on your folds.

"one more..p-please.." he would stuttered before pushing back in which had you arching. already sensitive from the orgasm you had. a long night soon awaited you.

you loved kabuki, but sometimes he would just annoy you by crying and whining when he didn't get what he wanted. even if you both were shopping for food at the markets, he would get needy, holding onto your arm and already grinding on your thigh.

"'m needy....please..now." you would sigh telling him nows not the time. but he then starts whining, crying which brought attention from other shoppers and it had you embarrassed until you dragged his arm, bringing him to a empty secluded place, behind some strangers house...sure there were other people too but less than the markets.

"god you irritate me so much..." you would say before taking his pants off, then flipping him to the wall, to where his ass stuck out. prodding two fingers around the rim of his ass. he would whimper at the feeling scratching onto the walls of the white concrete.

then finally inserting it inside of him, he would let out a slutty moan, almost loud enough for people to come. thrusting your fingers in and out of him, curling them at the ends, poking at his good spot.

"mmnggh-! nghh ahh~!" kabuki would let out with no shame, not even caring if people heard him, he just felt too good!

"quiet down, or else people will see." he nods and obeys obediently, biting his bottom lip to contain his moans from slipping out. "good boy." you praised him before stroking his cock. and his eyes rolled to the back of his head, moaning and saying incoherent sentences, drooling at the pleasure he was getting.

thrusting your fingers in and stroking his cock was already enough for him to cum on the spot, making a mess on the wall, coated with white sticky cum. leaving him breathing heavily.

sometimes there would be days where youre too tired to even do anything, denying his requests of doing it so you can get some rest, sure it takes some convincing but then he would just pout and say "fine!" with a needy tone.

but little did you know, he would just wait until you passed out, just so he could take your clothes off and insert in his cock in your hole. thrusting in and out, skin slapping skin, just the feeling of your pussy pulsating around his cock. he always got off to the feeling of it and could cum immediately.

after that you would scold him for creating a mess when you were asleep, always feeling sticky and having to clean up.

when you guys had your intimate moments, and this time you told him he could cum inside, he couldn't hold in his excitement. saying "r-really?! okay! ill cum inside..." the thought of cumming inside you always excited him.

there when he first came inside he was so addicted to the feeling. after that he just couldnt stop cumming inside you, your pussy felt too good for him to stop, he would go on and on till his cum was basically translucent.

you would have to be the one initiating in aftercare, always so tired whenever he came multiple times...what did he expect. you would clean yourself and him up, then relaxing in a calming silence of cuddling and telling endearments to which kabuki would command.

requests open!

[o-sachi]

Record Store - Drabble for WinBre Week!

ᯓ you and kaji working together part-time at a local record store ᯓ character; kaji ren (wind breaker) ᯓ tags; fluff, college au, technically a budding workplace romance, has a 500 days of summer reference, afab reader, no y/n

[🐟]: for day 6 - part-time job prompt! @windbreakerweek

There was this guy you worked with at the local record store. He was pretty quiet and always wore headphones no matter what—which was fitting for a record store employee, you thought.

But that meant it was almost impossible to talk to him. So the register and the customer service were left in your care. He mostly handled the logistics like carrying the boxes containing new records and arranging them on the display shelves.

On his chest he wore the same employee nameplate that you did. It said "Hi I'm, Kaji," in black letters. You assumed he was the one who wrote his name with those asemic strokes. But all that mattered was that the nameplate served its purpose and everyone now knows his name is Kaji.

Unfortunately, that's about everything you know of this guy. Too bad he can't write his life's story or his favorite food on something he can plaster somewhere on his body.

Kaji was intriguing though. You found yourself stealing glances at him while you stood behind the counter and he'd be walking back-and-forth between the shelves and the storage room. The only time he'd talk to you was when he absolutely need to, but would you really consider conversations about work as ACTUAL conversations? No, not really.

It was a rather slow and peaceful day for the record store. To be fair, you've never experienced a busy day here. It was one of the many charms of this place. But you were bored out of your mind doing absolutely nothing at the register while Kaji was busy with rearranging the vinyls.

An idea popped into your head and you found yourself making way to the very same shelf he was at. Scanning his work, you realized he was arranging records by genre, so you started doing the same. He didn't protest—or maybe he really had no words for you—but he silently let you help him.

The music streaming through his headphones were loud enough that even as you stood a few inches away from him—you could hear it clearly.

"I love Deftones."

Kaji lifts one side of the headphones. "What?"

"I said I love Deftones."

He kept it lifted off his ear while he thought of something meaningful to say.

"You have good taste in music," you add, hoping that he could springboard from that.

"You like Deftones?"

"If like, you should stay down beneath~"

"Yeah, I love them."

Holy shit. Kaji was short-circuiting like an idiot. Normally, the news that someone listens to the same music as he does is nothing amazing. But finding out the pretty girl at his part-time job did? It had him feeling some type of way.

Safe to say, you caught his attention. Hook line and sinker. He removed the headphones from his ears completely, setting them slowly around his neck—telling you that he was ready to listen whatever else you had to say.

"That's cool," he stammered out.

For a long while, the only sound between the two of you were the sounds of the records being shuffled on the shelf. The tension was more palpable than ever.

"There's this music festival on Friday evening," you said. In all honesty, you wanted to continue the topic of music and that seemed relevant at the moment, but it was too late once you realized the implication of it.

He cranes his head to look at you, wanting to make sure he wasn't reading into it too much. But it was accidental and he did read into it too much. "Rock music?" he asked.

"Yeah."

"Who's playing?"

You decided to double down on it. "Let's go together and see."

The slight shift in his expression was a dead giveaway that your words had an effect on him. "Eh... uh... like as co-workers?"

"Ouch, not even friends? Besides, who goes to events like that as co-workers?"

"So... what? Friends?"

Jeez. You sigh. "If I called it a date, would you mind? And no, not a friendly date."

What date isn't friendly—he thought. Hearing the word d-a-t-e, there was no way he'd misinterpret that. He was hoping your invitation was for something more than friends anyway.

"Sure, it's a date then."

o-sachi © 2024 pls do not translate/copy/reupload my work on other platforms.