#lazy drabble again

[marsdql]

Morning menance — Lee Heeseung

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 PAIRING: heeseung x sleepy!reader, GENRE: fluff, kinda crack? WC: 0.7k….! SNY— reader being needy and a brat because I love acting like the world revolves around me sorry!

The room was dimly lit by the soft glow of the nightlight on the bedside table. You stirred in your sleep, the warmth of the blanket and your hoodie suddenly becoming unbearable. With a groggy groan, you tugged at the fabric, pulling the hoodie off and tossing it to the side. Left in your tank top and sleep shorts, you sighed in relief, curling back up and nuzzling into the pillow.

Heeseung stirred beside you, his arm instinctively wrapping around your waist. Even half-asleep, he pulled you close, mumbling something incoherent under his breath before settling back into his slumber.

A few hours later, at the crack of 7 a.m., you blinked awake again. The soft morning light seeped through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room. It was way too early for you, but something had woken you up—perhaps a lingering restlessness. You rubbed at your eyes, letting out a small whine, still half-asleep but already feeling the beginnings of your morning fussiness.

Heeseung was still dozing beside you, his face peaceful, but you weren’t in the mood to let him sleep. Turning to him, you gently nudged his shoulder. “Hee,” you mumbled, your voice soft and needy. “Hee…”

He groaned faintly, his brows furrowing as he opened one eye to look at you. “Baby, what’s wrong?” His voice was raspy with sleep, but his hand instinctively reached out to stroke your hair.

“I’m awake,” you murmured, pouting. “I want my phone…”

Heeseung let out a small chuckle, still groggy but finding your early-morning whines adorable. “It’s too early, baby. You should go back to sleep.”

“But I’m awake!” you argued, though it was clear from the way you were blinking lazily that you were still exhausted. “I just wanna check the time… and maybe Heeseung notifications.”

He smirked at the mention of his name. “Oh, so you wake up early just to stalk me, huh?”

You huffed, your pout deepening. “Noooo, Hee. I just wanna see. Please?”

With a dramatic sigh, he reached over to the nightstand and grabbed your phone, handing it to you. “Okay, but only for a minute. Check the time and my notifications, then back to sleep, my little stalker.”

You took the phone eagerly, scrolling for a few seconds before Heeseung leaned over and plucked it right out of your hands again. “That’s enough,” he said firmly, placing the phone back on the table. “You’ll get carried away, and I’m not letting you stay up.”

“But—” you started, your voice trailing off into a whine.

“No buts,” he interrupted, lying back down and pulling you with him. “Come here, baby. You’re too fussy this morning.”

You pouted against his chest, squirming slightly. “I don’t wanna sleep anymore,” you grumbled. “I’m not even tired.”

Heeseung chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Not tired, huh? Then why are you yawning?” he teased, cradling your head gently.

You let out a small, defeated whimper, nuzzling into his chest as his warmth started to lull you. “I just… nothing..” you attempting to admit that you just wanted him close, your voice muffled against his shirt.

Heeseung’s heart softened instantly. “Oh, my baby,” he cooed, his hand rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back. “You just wanted attention? You could’ve told me. You know I’d give you all of it.”

You sighed, your body relaxing into his as your eyelids grew heavier. Heeseung rocked you gently, his voice low and comforting as he whispered, “Shhh, it’s okay now. You’ve got me. You’re my baby, and I’m not going anywhere. Just close those pretty eyes and sleep a little more. I’ll be right here.”

Your fussiness began to fade as his words and gentle touch soothed you completely. Within minutes, your breathing evened out, and you drifted back to sleep in his arms, feeling safe and loved.

Heeseung stayed awake for a while longer, watching over you with a soft smile. He pressed another kiss to your forehead before whispering, “Sleep well, my favourite attention-seeker. You’ll always have me.”

[dramaticallytotal]

Please expand on the other contestants finding out about Noah’s International Harem, cause it’s hilarious to me that they see this no game barely there guy and bam! he is an international heartthrob.

"Wow, Noah! I didn't know you had it in you!" Chris exclaimed with a laugh.

"What are you talking about, McLean?" Noah asked with a frown.

Chris shook his head in fondness. Noah would always be Noah, even after being flirted with while being recorded for a reality show. He really didn't think that punk boy that showed up with that, basically a mob, group of other punks from the club Duncan had been performing at was Noah's type.

"I mean, it looks like you just got yourself a punk boyfriend, dude! What, was our resident delinquent not up to your standards or tastes?"

Duncan yelled in offense at that, which made Chris smirk.

Noah, of course, rolled his eyes at Chris. "Are you deaf Old Man? Ezra was just interested in my thoughts on my book since he's read it before."

The once noisy space was absolutely silent at Noah's words.

And as though he didn't notice the silence (he didn't), Noah continued, "Plus, he acknowledged we wouldn't have a lot of time to go too in depth in our comparative analyses because of the show and he was intrigued by my view on the last chapter when I get to it so we exchanged numbers."

Silence.

Finally, Noah noticed it and looked up to everyone staring at him like he was stupid, or they just looked plain shocked. "What?"

Slowly, Chris approached Noah and put a hand on his shoulder, "Kid....that dude was hella flirting with you. Like...hella. The book was an excuse to talk to you."

"What? No, it wasn't." Noah said, though he didn't sound as sure as he usually did.

"Yeah, no. Chris is right, Noah. That guy was really hitting on you. He chose the book as an excuse because otherwise, you would have made him cry for even approaching you. He probably noticed that and thought the best way to get your attention was to ask what you were reading." Courtney stated.

Poor Noah just looked so lost. "But what about...?"

"Woah! Noah! That means Ezra is like the sixth boy to hit on you using books as an opening and the sixth to get your number from it. Haha, wild!" Izzy laughed from her perch on Owen's shoulders. Despite them not dating anymore, they were still touchy-feely friends.

"Excuse me!?" Chris was fine with the one dude but six. SIX. Who do these boys think they are???

"HOW!?" Heather yelled. She wasn't the only one who looked like they were thinking that, but she was the one to voice it.

"SIX!? WHEN?" Everyone turned to who shouted that, and it ended up being Alejandro, who also looked surprised at his shout.

"Well, there was that one in Egypt who was staying at the same hotel as us, and Izzy wanted to swim! So I dragged Noah, Eva, and Owen with. Then there was the cutie in Japan when Owen wanted to go to that karaoke restaurant, and Noah didn't like our duet, so he went outside. Oh, oh! Then! There was the American in New York who -" Izzy's rant was cut off by Noah somehow climbing up Owen to silence Izzy but putting a hand over her mouth.

His face was noticeable red, and he looked so distressed.

"Holy shit..." Duncan whispered before he started cackling. Everyone just watched as the punk laughed and laughed till there were tears in his eyes. "Who knew the loser had it in him!"

"Dude....six guys is..." Gwen looked like she was trying to hold back her own laughter. She failed and also started laughing. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Noah, it's just... dude! You have no game! None! How?"

"Hey!"

"No 'hey', man, you know it's true." Chris finally said despite the fact he would definitely be asking Izzy just who those boys were later.

"OHEMGEE!" Everyone startled when Sierra, who had been abnormally silent till then. It had scared Izzy and Noah so bad that they both fell off Owen's shoulders. "This is like so many animes I've watched! Noah! You have a harem! I can't believe I get to see one happen, IRL!!"

Chris had never seen Noah go from so flustered to pale in seconds flat before, but there was a first time for everything. The aforementioned boy quickly scrambled off the floor, huffing and puffing before pointing at Sierra dramatically, "You will not make that a thing! It's not even a thing! I don't have a harem!"

"My little buddy is so popular!" Owen squealed.

"Owen!" Noah screeched betrayed.

"You...are very popular amigo..." Alejandro chuckled, but even to Chris, it sounded forced.

Well... this is not what Chris had intended to happen, not that he knew what would happen by teasing Noah about the punk boy, but still. "So, are you going to message them all once the show is over?" He had to know.

Heather was still just standing there with her mouth agape while Courtney was yelling at Gwen and Duncan to get a grip. Cody looked like he wanted to comfort Noah, who was sandwiched between Izzy, Eva, and Owen, but he currently had Sierra gripping his arm and talking his ear off about the harem trope.

Alejandro, though, Alejandro looked shocked beyond words but also very angry. Chris would say the guy looked more jealous, but no way was he going to voice that.

Tyler looked confused but supportive.

Poor Noah looked like he wanted the floor to swallow him whole. Like a bomb going off, the boy pulled away from his friends and seemed to explode. "HOW CAN I MESSAGE THEM ALL IF THEY ALL WERE SUPPOSEDLY INTO ME?"

"WHAT KIND OF PERSON WOULD THAT MAKE ME?" Okay, this was a bigger reaction than Chris had anticipated. "I CAN'T JUST MESSAGE THEM ALL?? WOULDN'T THAT BE ME LEADING THEM ON? I DON'T WANT TO LEAD ANY OF THEM ON! THEY WERE NICE! BUT I THOUGHT THEY JUST WANTED TO DISCUSS BOOKS! THAT'S WHAT I'M GOOD AT! WHAT IF THEY- WHAT IF-"

It was when Noah started hyperventilating that they realized just how distressed Noah actually was about this. That's what it took to get Gwen and Duncan to stop laughing.

It snapped several people into action. Namely Gwen, Courtney, Heather and Eva who rushed to calm Noah down and the rest who awkwardly watched.

Oops.

[kangaracha]

CATSKIN for @feelbokkie

prompt felix + twisted fairytale (catskin)

TW for blood, minor character death, mentions of sexual assault, medieval type violence

word count 4444

---

I.

When first you meet, it is like two stars colliding - like the sun and the moon dancing around each other in the sky, and love at first sight is a dream for foolish, insipid children and you know that to be true, but...

Maybe in this moment, you forget. Maybe you see his face, warm against the cold ice of the cape that falls over his shoulder, or maybe you watch the soft curve of his mouth as he laughs at something his brother says, standing so subtly apart from the crowd that no one notices they are there. Maybe your eyes meet across the room, sun-warmed brown to striking blue, and time stills and the dance stops and your heart thinks that here and now, nothing else could matter but the taste of his name on your tongue and knowing what his hand would feel like in yours.

But this isn't real. The ballroom is crowded, and he is a familiar face you have never met, and you are a stranger with the moon draped over your shoulders for the night. The band strikes up a dance, a lively rhythm that swings fast and slow, and you are swept into the rush of the current, your feet moving in a pattern that they know from heart. Your hands are still stained with coal; you take every suitor's hand palm-down, hiding the black stains that won't quite scrub from already-dark skin, and you waltz without meaning until pale, slender fingers take yours and hold them tight, tugging you from the dance before you can be passed on to the next partner in line.

"Wha-" you begin, and then you look up into the eyes you've dreamed of for days and months and years and forget what you were going to say at all.

"Sorry," he says, and drops your hand with all the haste you'd expect someone like him to once he looked close enough to see the lie shivering beneath your skin. "I just wanted to know your name, before I lost you in the crowd."

Love at first sight is a story mothers tell to put their children to sleep at night, and you have lost all your senses because in that moment, your mouth opens as if to answer him.

"There you are," a voice says behind you, too sweet to be any you know; and an arm loops through yours, and here is Hyunjin suddenly, jewels dripping from his brow and a fire burning in the back of his eye where only you know what it is for. "It's so like you to wander off. Come on; our friends are looking for us."

"Before you go-" says the mouth you'd seen laughing from across the hall, the prince it belongs to reaching out a hand - but you are already gone sliding away through the crowd that fills his ballroom from wall to wall with more dazzling finery than you've ever seen in your life.

"That was close," Hyunjin breathes in your ear, and there is the voice that you recognise, liquid fire and undertones of dark shadow. "You're supposed to avoid him, you know."

"I know," you mutter and allow yourself to be swept away, all thoughts of love and the sun and the electric feeling that had jumped from his hand to yours swept to the side.

II.

The king likes the ballroom to be full and the people to be colourful, and he likes the crowd to be lively.

The wine flows freely for the last day of the summer, the lords and ladies stripped of their cautious humours and careful tongues. Their laughter is raucous as you slip out into the garden, the sun pulled over your shoulders in lengths of fine silk that cut away the cold wind that bites at your exposed skin. Already, the trees have begun to turn and the grass is wet with the season's rain; you stand in the centre of an autumn scene and watch the leaves flutter and fall, the light of the lanterns glittering from your skirts and the swirl of beading across your breast, woven from the finest gold.

"It's you," says the man beneath the tree; and when he steps out into the light, dressed again in pure white, you forget to pretend that you hadn't seen him, or that you'd simply come out here to breathe in air that wasn't stifled by the laughs of a thousand other people. "I was looking for you, you know."

"Were you?" you ask with the curve of a smile, your tongue loosened by the quiet of the cooling night and the seclusion of the garden. "Or could you just not find someone to dance with?"

You'd seen him earlier, standing at the edge of that floor. Gently turning away the hands of countless maidens in gowns that dripped in jewels under the guise of speaking to his brothers, searching the crowd with his eyes at every moment he thought that eyes weren't watching him. The guilty smile that plays on his face says that he knows exactly what you are thinking of; the step that he takes within your reach says that he isn't going to hide it. "Maybe I was waiting for the right person," he says, and then his cheeks turn pink in embarrassment, his eyes sliding momentarily away from yours.

"You'll waste your entire night if you think like that," you tell him lightly, and then you glance over your shoulder at the doors to the ballroom - to give him a moment to himself, you tell yourself, and pretend that it wasn't because you thought you felt the creep of Hyunjin's watchful gaze over the back of your neck. There is no one at the door though, no one watching through the backs that are turned to the glass. Only he can see you here, the sun standing in the middle of the night's darkness.

"I never got to ask your name the last time I saw you," he says; and with a start that jolts up your spine like electricity, you turn back to him. 

"I never got to ask yours either," you say, in lieu of the answer that you cannot give him. Never mind the danger of him recognising you too closely after this night - if he mentioned to Hyunjin the name of a girl he'd met in the garden, if Hyunjin knew what you were doing between the tasks you'd been given...

"Everyone knows mine," he scoffs; not because he thinks so highly of himself, but in the reluctant acceptance of someone who had never known a moment of privacy. "You can't have come to the woodlands knowing so little."

"And what if I didn't?" you question, playing along on this string of a conversation rather than letting him turn it back around to the question he'd really tried to ask. "What if I'd simply come here to enjoy the night, and seen a man across the room that I thought I'd like to know?"

His smile grows wider, his eyes softening. You like the way that smile looks on him. "Then I'd tell you my name is Felix," he tells you. "And I'd probably ask you to dance before we met like this, out here in the garden where no one is looking. And it probably wouldn't be such a scandal if we were seen either."

"That doesn't sound like as much fun though," you say. "Isn't it much more interesting to meet like this, than to have it all planned out?"

"Are you someone that likes trouble?" he asks, head tilted to the side in question; and the words seem cautious, probing, but he draws in closer again anyway, enough that his hand can brush yours in the folds of your dress.

"Maybe I am," you tease, your heart fluttering and jumping around in your chest like a nervous rabbit. "Aren't you?"

"I think I could be," he says, and his hand brushing your chin is followed by his lips brushing yours; and it is only a question, a stepping across boundaries that promises to rescind immediately if you push him away, but love at first sight is a dream and you think maybe, in another life, you might have been a terribly indulgent dreamer.

You kiss him with all the certainty that had driven you to this point, this garden and this night and this man, and his lips are soft and he smiles too much, and his hands are hesitant to wander, but you've already tried hot, heady passion and men who take what they want. Soft is new, and questioning sends a shiver down your spine, and you think this is a better man. 

And then you stop because you remember, but you play it off as the toll of the bell startling you from a daydream. "I have to go," you say, which is true, and then, "I hope you find someone to dance with tonight," which is not.

"Will I see you again?" he asks; and it's notable, you think, that he doesn't reach out of try to stop you. That he accepts on face value that you are telling the truth and that, even though his eyes say they want you to stay, his mouth would be rude to ask.

"Maybe," you say, the word drawn out like honey dripping long and slow from your tongue. "If you have another ball."

He laughs, his eyes squeezing closed with the pain of it. When they open again, you make sure you are gone from his sight.

You're pretty sure you dropped something like your heart there in the courtyard, but you don't dare to go and get it back. Not yet.

III.

You're cutting through fine hallways of tapestry and stone from the garden, your basket filled with vegetables and your face streaked in dirt. You aren't supposed to be here - a scullery maid shhould be in the dark spaces between the walls, scurrying up and down steep and spiralling stairs, but you're late and the cook is a stone-faced woman with a tongue made for lashing, and you hadn't thought-

The prince stops to look at you, confusion furrowing in his brow as he stares at your face. Recognition; except that today you are hiding under the brown of the dirt and the mantle of wild fur, cobbled together from the backs of many animals but none so fine as te ermine that lines his coat. 

Your heart sinks even as it pounds in alarm at the thought of him finding out what you are and where you've come from. It is a disaster if it happens, surely, but at the same time - maybe you'd tricked yourself into thinking that he remembered you the same way you did him. Or maybe he had tricked you, with the way he'd so quietly given you his name in the garden, the earnesty with which he'd nearly asked you to stay.

"Your highness?" Hyunjin asks at his shoulder, dressed all in his own princely regalia, and Felix turns away. And for a moment you hate Hyunjin, as you slip to the side of the hall where your feet should be, out of the way; because how could he be so beautiful, and so detached and so true to his beliefs that he could play the prince, and you are so suited to fur and treachery that you stand here a maid?

"Sorry," Felix says, to Hyunjin and not to you, and pretends to move on. You can see his eyes flick back again as he leaves though, trying one last time to see past the furs and the dirt, to place where he has seen you before.

You can see Hyunjin's too, piercing when they look directly at you. Warning, that you are overcomplicating things. That this is all about to be a mess, and you are no longer prepared for it. 

Your ire rises again. You know what has to happen, and what he will do to facilitate it, and you know your own roll. You know it all has to end. Who is he, to think you can't carry through on a promise? Who is he to doubt you?

IV.

The final coat is made of feathers plucked from the birds of the sea cliffs, tawny brown and ochre and cream. Hidden in the tunnels of the castle, Hyunjin tucks a sprig of samphire into the curl of your hair, picked from the edge of the world before you had left and wrapped carefully in paper made for preserving these kinds of things. A piece of home, brushing up against your ear every time you turn; a signal to those that you have let in the back door that you are a friend, in case you are caught in the havoc.

"What happened to your hands?" he asks as he steps back to look at you, his own lifting your wrists so that he can see the black marks on your fingers.

"There was grease on the gate lock, to stop it sticking," you reply. "It doesn't wash off like blood does."

He drops your hands just as fast as he'd picked them up, his eyes scanning the feathers again. As if it was this coat that you'd worn when you'd taken a knife to the man at the gate, as if he would find evidence of the blood on your hands smeared across the vanes if he only turns you this way and that. Silly of him, really - the edge of the fur coat was the one that bared the stains. The fur was made for the work of the hands. The feathers were only sent as a signal, a draw of the eyes, dropping in the path of your feet as you walk towards the ballroom.

"Stay away from the prince," Hyunjin warns you, his attention turning in the direction of his own path to the party. "He's looking for a particular girl that he saw last time. He'll have eyes everywhere."

"Not on the ground though," you answer, shaking out the coat and watching a feather of mottled brown drift to the floor. You ignore the way that your stomach dips at the mention of a girl. You neglect to mention that the girl he's looking for might be you, and the rouge brushed across your cheeks and the glitter of gold on your eyelids will only draw his eyes. 

You should have worn the dirt and hidden in the shadows, but that's not how they had prophesised it. The witches had whispered of a feather coat and a dress made of the sun and a moonlight shawl, and you'd been the one foolish enough to wear them, and no one in those rooms had been able to resist the magic of them, least of all the prince.

"Time to go," Hyunjin says as the bell tolls seven, and with one last look between you, you turn your seperate ways. 

You don't know where his heart resides, but you know that yours is in your throat. You hope that he survives the night. You hope that whatever he came here for is worth what it is going to cost.

V.

At the moment the ballroom bursts open, the black soldiers streaming in from every entrance, you are looking at the prince.

You hadn't meant to. You had taken Hyunjin's advice, as much as it grated at you to do it, and you had avoided him, skirting around the edges of the room while he searched in all the wrong places for you, dropping your feathers where the feathers wanted to fall and hiding in crowds of garish colour that sniffed and sneered at your coat of soft brown; but even though you don't wear the sun or the moon, you still orbit around him and him around you when you are in this room, and to stay away from him was-

Impossible, in the moment when you turn and there he is, right on your tail like the hunters following the birds to their nests in the cliffs, willing to jump from the rocks just to collect the eggs that might hide below. Except that he wasn't here to steal from you, or to catch you in his hands and tame you - he only thinks that you are beautiful, or that he could love you if only you gave him a chance.

And then the feathers ruffle and shift in the breeze, and the doors open, and the room fills with the men of the sea, axes and knives glinting in their hands and white teeth snarling within their faces.

Eerie silence falls as the room stutters to a halt, the shiny, red-faced aristocrats turning to stare at the army that have entered their sanctuary. The first one falls by the main entrance, his wine arcing through the air as he tumbles to the ground under the sharp blade of an axe; and then they scream, and they move in every direction, and in the maelstrom of silk and chiffon and eyes of horror you lose sight of the prince.

Slipping across the room is like fighting upstream against a raging river, ducking between bodies and around blades that don't have time to see the samphire behind your ear. You fade away into the one hallway you hadn't marked with a feather, disappearing into the black of the walls and the twisting tunnel down to the kitchens where just moments ago maids had scurried out to deliver the feast, and your heart breaks at the red-suited body that tumbles in on your heels, the eyes of a man in armour of beaten iron that take in your feathers and your face and turn away, back to the bloodbath, but you can't go back. You can't save him. 

And then a gutteral cry echoes down the tunnel, and a body blocks the light that flickers from its entrance, and there he is, your prince. His eyes are scared and his mouth open as he gasps for breath, the little knife he'd used on your countryman held in a white-knuckle grip in front of him as if he thinks he might need it again at any time. Blood splatters the front of his snow-white coat, tarnishing the pearls and sinking into every fibre of the cotton and wool that holds it together.

"It's you," he gasps between breaths, the words reverberating from the stone walls. "I found you."

"You-" you begin to say, but the words are lost in the storm of thoughts that cloud your mind, the race of scenarios that you can imagine coming from this unfateful meeting, this turn in the story that was never anticipated. Every step has been told to you up until now - the coats, and the feathers, and the rush of men into the ballroom that leads to the fall of a kingdom - but no one said a word about this. About him, the prince, the hands that now cup your heart to their chest, and the knives at his back as he stands there, just one step shallow of safety.

You think too much about what has happened and what could happen next, but you don't think at all when you reach out and grab him, dragging him down the tunnel and into the darkness, where only sporadic lanterns burn to guide the way. Around this corner and then that, down a staircase so steep that countless girls have broken their necks tripping on its uneven stones, into the warmth and light of the kitchen, where the smell of the pig roasting over the fire fills the air and the stack of pots waiting for you to wash them later in the night teeters towards the ceiling, stacked in one corner by several pairs of careless hands.

No one is here. They'd timed it deliberately for the arrival of the feast, when the attendants of the ball would all reconvene from the corners of the palace to the ballroom to fill their already ample stomachs. Incidentally, this meant that the kitchen staff were all in attendance too, arranging dishes under the watchful eye of the cook, which meant that when you tried to hide a prince in the kitchen-

"Wait," he says, dragging back against your hold on his arm. "Wait, I know a way out of the castle. I can take you where it's-"

"No," you cut across him before he can finish, and you tug at him again, dragging him step by step towards the maid's quarters. "They're in the hidden tunnels too. There's no way out."

He's so surprised that he forgets to resist you, his body going slack with his jaw and his feet following you across the room. "How do you know that?" he asks.

You don't dare to look back at him as you enter the room you share with the other girls, as you open the little chest-of-drawers that holds everything you brought with you (but not everything you own) and you pull out the clothes you wear day-to-day - grey trousers and a cream shirt slowly staining brown, and the coat of a thousand furs, its edges stained with fresh blood. "Put these on," you order him, shoving them into his arms without looking him in the eye, and then you turn your back.

"I wouldn't punish you for pretending to be from the court," he says to your back as he changes, the white jacket thrown to the dusty floor and then his shirt and breeches. "Or for knowing whatever you know. You saved my life." His boots are too nice to be a servant's, but yours won't fit him; you reach for Alice's old pair while he is busy, set neatly at the foot of her bed, and hand them to him when he is done, picking up the clothes he has discarded instead.

You saved my life too, you should say of the man he had killed, to keep up the illusion, but the lie seems wan in the face of the truth you are going to have to admit to him by the end of the night. You stalk past him instead, headed to the fire with the truth and the lies still sitting sour on your tongue.

The shirt and pants burn easily, the leather of the boots slow to sink between the logs that fuel the flame. You hesitate a moment before throwing the coat in after them, eyeing its precious pearls and hand-woven patterns of leaves and swirls. A silver brooch pinned to the lapel catches your eye; your thumb runs over it, feeling the careful details its maker has pressed together and the chips of diamond that embed its surface.

"That was my mother's," Felix says behind you, a certain grief hidden in the stiffness of his voice. "But you can burn it if you have to."

"I don't have to," you reply, and you work it free of the fabric with delicate and practised fingers. The coat feeds the flame; the brooch pins onto your dress, just above your heart.

 "Pretend to be a servant," you say as you turn to look at him. Your hands reach out to fix his coat, to smear the soot from the fireplace into his golden curls and down his cheeks. "I can't keep you alive if you're a prince, but if you're just a boy from the kitchens-"

His hands catch yours as they slip from his face, the ash that clings to your skin staining his as he grips them tight. "Who are you?" he questions. "What have you done?"

Tight-lipped, ashen-faced, you look up into his eyes - pale blue to forest brown, liar to honest truth. "I'm the feathercoat," you say, as if he will understand the words of a fable that people only whisper over the sea cliffs and the raging storms of the ocean. "I'm the one that brings the woodlands to their knees. I'm-"

Your voice chokes in your throat, your fingers growing numb from the force of his grip on your hands. There's a knife still tucked into his waistband - there's a knife behind him, stuck by its tip into the surface of the cutting board. You only have your feathers, and the excuses that stack up in the back of your throat; that the witches told us it would be so, or your land is the only gift my father will accept in place of a marriage to that man, or haven't you seen the way your father encroaches on our cliffs? Haven't you seen the way your farms destroy our hills and valleys and pollute our river? But those are all reasons that blame someone else, and you are the one that stands here, and the grease from the gate stains your fingers, not theirs-

"I loved you," he says, and he lets go of you like he has been burned. "I saw you across the room, and I thought no one could be so beautiful, and you can't even tell me the truth when-"

A shout echoes down the hall you'd escaped from, the rattle of armour and the thunder of heavy boots against the floor. "Wait," you say to him, a hand suspended in the air between you. You're afraid to touch him, when he could reach for that knife - when he deserves to see your blood run, for what you have done - but you can't let him run to his death all the same. "Wait until we live, and then I'll tell you, and then you can kill me. But wait. Take my hand and wait."

He hesitates, his eyes wary like he doesn't believe you, but the man on the stairs shouts again, calling for someone to follow him, and the fear shoots right into his heart and his hand slides into yours, his pulse fast but his fingers cold. 

"I don't want to kill you," he says, like a promise you can't believe he will keep. "Just keep me alive, and when the sun comes up, tell me everything. Please. I don't have any reason to kill you if everyone here is already dead."

"I will," you reply, and this is a promise that will be kept, whether or not he reaches for the knife when the light of the dawn comes. "I love you too, you know. I didn't mean to hurt you."

And yet, you have. And yet, the guilt and the feathers eat you alive.

---

PERMANANT TAGLIST

@amyyscorner @kokinu09 @rainfallingfromthesky @keepswingin @rylea08 @puppysmileseungmin @thatonedemigodfromseoul

[grxysuit]

[] - TIME - 03:00 .DATE - [CLASSIFIED] - LOCATION [ CLASSIFIED]

-- LAB 0139

------ CELL. 02.

SPECIMEN STATUS - LUCID. INJURED[ ATTENDED TO] SEDATED. [85]

ADHERE TO ALL CONTAINMENT PROCEDURES. ANY ERROR OR MISSTEP WILL BE PROSECUTED. ALARMS ARE ACTIVE.

------------

Pryde's able to walk again, which given the degree of injury he should have taken PTO, but he can't, not now. His mission is almost at it's finale. He also, is unwilling to deal with the gloom of his homelife. So... Eat, sleep, and heal on company time.

He can walk, but not well, not yet. There's still a gnawing pain in his innards that no amount of medications seems to quell, something to study later on no doubt. For now, he wants to see his hunt, his charge. The RD who this entire slaughter and fuss this operation was about.

By now getting through the security is habit, barely noticeable, all the precautions much more tolerable than the itching in his stitches. Finally, he's able to come at least close enough to this insane caged animal. It's not comfortable by any means, the viewing 'tank' is actually in a different room to the holding cell, allowing a clinical and invasive observation of the subject.

All sorts of pipes and cords are inserted in him intravenously. Pryde's not a science guy, he doesn't know the exact nature of what everything does here. Only that for the time being its proven effective at stabilising and otherwise cutting off certain avenues of distortion. And lying in an uncomfortable fetal position, the guy almost looks human. Almost.

Ignoring all the dressings and cords, and of course the marks from his own recent surgery. He even got an industrial wash, which is probably the first he's had in his life. Looking like a slightly damp toad or wet cat in a shelter. Like some pitiful inbred dog with 30 health conditions at the pound.

Though the reality was this was some ungodly abomination that should be put down as soon as they were able.

"Mr Kurosawa..Good morning." He greets, clicking the communication on as he settled on an office chair, pad and pen in hand as he scribbled some notes of his own.

The Nephandus groggily lifts his head, no doubt jolted by the 'helpful' electronic pulse that forced him awake from his reverie to respond to questions. His expression is impossible to discern, both parts sleepy and displeased. He cants his head, cracking his neck uncomfortably, camera following his movement.

"Agent- what was it, Pryde?" He greets drily, moving into an awkward, hunched sitting position. Surveying his captor with a heaving sigh and a grunt.

"Nice set up. I'm impressed, I am." Constance continues, eyes darting to stare ahead, fingers stiffly tracing one of the cords poked into his hand.

"How was the cleanup? What I'd give to see the autopsy report on those carcasses. Especially the blacksuits." Constance grins, skew teeth showing, as he gives a hoarse laugh, clearing his throat before spitting.

Pryde just writes, not yet responding or showing emotion. Give the enemy no sign of your internal conflict, any emotion can be used against you.

"Are you proud of yourself, reality deviant? For you specifically, this was quite mild, sweet of you to pity the Progenitor." Pryde prods, though he--.

[ information request; denied]

There's an extended silence, shit the RD definitely noticed the glazed look and whirr of his mechanical pupils. No matter. Keep going.

"Not my best work, but it was fine. Fun enough for an evening out. This place is kind of maddening. Everything has a switch, a hum, the lights- oh they fucking sing their own tune. The metal, the sterile, clinical, banal -"

[Sedative increase- 20%]

Constance hisses, looking more - no he doesn't even look like an animal. Like some amorphous imitation of a human. Hissing with pain, head extended like his body is being puppeted, sigils twitching and moving on him like water. Trying to protect their host from the invasive biotech that held him in place. A tar like substance fills some of the pipes.

Sweat beads on his forehead, how human, to contrast the evil thing that pants with pained groans, teeth grit as latent magic struggles against its bindings. Desperate for something-anything to be the target.

Pryde watches, still aware that this was all experimental, and there was an off chance this abomination would get out, that he was charged with overseeing the science and frontline 'testing'. At whatever cost.

But the nephandus does calm, against his will. Staring ahead.

" I see why Constellation hasn't tried getting out yet.. There's a rot here. Agent Pryde. Things twitching 'neath the surface, waiting for a fatal misstep. A door way.. hm, maybe not even that. Maybe it's already started, small.. Overlooked. Like a mold in the shower caulk." He gives a hoarse exhalation, trying to stretch vainly against his wiring and restraints, eventually settling to lying on the floor, eyes tracking the camera.

" Because the second I can, I'm going to do a pretty little dance, and turn that little crack into a door. " He grins, but it doesn't reach the eyes.

[mymreaderlibrary]

Natasha Romanoff x male reader drabble

(Y/N = your name, H/C = hair color)

Natasha wakes up to the sound of her phone ringing in the other room. Light is just barely beginning to peek through the blinds and her bedroom is illuminated by a yellow haze. With a huff she begrudgingly untangles herself from y/n’s arms as he continues to sleep peacefully in their shared bed. Nat stretches before scooping up the first item of clothing she sees on the floor. It’s y/n’s hoodie which ends up swamping her in size. It hangs down to her middle thigh and covers most of her hands. Comfy. She zips up the front lazily and pads into the other room, letting out a light sigh as she sees a familiar name light up across her phone screen. “Tony, you better have a good reason to be calling me at… 6:50 am”. She hears him chuckle on the other end, “oh come on Nat, can’t you be at least a little happy to hear from me”, “not when I have a warm bed that’s calling my name”. Nat takes a moment to rub her temples as she can immediately hear the teasing tone build up in the other man’s voice. “Just a bed doing that? No h/c man complaining about a startling lack of cuddles?” “Ha ha very funny Tony, now what do you want?” She responds with blunt sarcasm. “Sadly it’s business, and not the kind that’s good for over the phone. Meet me at the tower in about 20 and I’ll debrief you with everyone” and with a click the call ends. Nat sighs, so much for a lazy morning. If it’s as confidential as Tony is hinting at she probably needs to get dressed in her gear, so she heads back to her room and begins slipping on her suit. A muffled “hmph” sounds behind her as she drops y/n’s jacket back onto the floor. “Leaving already?” Y/n says with a slight slur. “Duty calls” she replies as he rubs his eyes to look at her. “You mean Tony calls”, “same thing”. Y/n rolls over, plopping his head onto the pillows and looking at Natasha with a pout while she finishes the last zipper. “Nat” “yes, котик?” She turns to face him, a teasing smile meeting her eyes. “Be safe out there”. Natasha’s smile turns soft before she bridges the gap between them. The kiss lingers for a moment as she cups his face in her hands. “You know I can’t promise that” “…but you can at least try” she leaned her forehead against his “…I can try”.

[obwjam]

Sobbing, I neeeeed spiderverse g/t from the one and only- ESPECIALLY WITH CHARACTERS LIKE MIGUEL AND PAV

okay hello please if you will indulge in this little drabble about a tiny spider-person at HQ

Miles knew there were lots of spider people out there, but this was taking it to a whole new level. Especially the one that was actually the size of a spider.

He had to do a double-take at the tiny figure sitting snugly on Pavitr's shoulder. It took him a minute to realize that they, too, were wearing a little black spider suit, just like his.

"Staring is rude, Miles," Gwen chided when he saw where her friend's gaze was.

Miles shrugged. "Can you blame me? I've never seen a tiny person before." A pause. "Have you?"

"Well, yeah. Everybody know The Widow."

"The Widow?"

"Yeah. Like a black widow. But that name's already taken."

Miles shook his head in understanding as Pavitr glanced down to his tiny friend.

"Do you want to introduce yourself?" he whispered. The tiny nodded. "He's a pretty good guy."

"Haven't you only known him for like, 10 minutes?"

"I'm a great judge of character," Pavitr said with a smile.

Miles froze when Pavitr started to walk toward him. Instead of saying anything, the Mumbattan Spider-Man simply extended his arm out, palm up, and let his small friend scale themselves down.

"Hi," they breathed, offering a small wave. "I'm --"

"PETRA!"

The tiny whipped their head around. "Miguel! Heeeeey, you big brute."

"I'm not in the mood for nicknames," he grumbled, though Petra knew he wasn't actually mad. "You were supposed to be helping me in the lab."

"Funny story," Petra said sheepishly, "Pavitr was actually taking me there!" They paused and gave Pavitr a pinch when he didn't react.

"Oh! Right. Yes. That is definitely true."

Miguel rolled his eyes, but let Petra see their lie through, because god, they were just adorable. Any annoyance he felt just melted away with just five seconds of conversation with the tiny.

"Give them to me," Miguel demanded, holding his palm out.

"Miguel, come on," Petra smirked. "Ask him nicely."

Pavitr simply raised his eyebrows. Miguel sighed.

"Give them to me... please."

"There, see? That wasn't so hard."

Nobody would ever say it out loud, but watching Petra jump around and make impossibly long leaps was everybody's favorite thing -- especially Miguel's. He had found them cowering and scared in their home dimension, completely unaware of the spider powers they possessed. He had practically raised them, watched them learn and grow and become comfortable in the giant worlds they visited. They were the closest thing he'd ever have to a real daughter.

Miguel's heart fluttered when Petra landed lightly into his open palm, like it always did. Pavitr bent down and gave his friend a fist bump, grinning at the comical size difference in their hands. He unfurled his index finger and gave them a playful poke, to which Petra responded by shooting webs at him and yanking him forward. He always forgot how strong they were.

"You better brush up on your skills, Pavitr. They're stronger than you," Miguel joked with a lighthearted smile.

"He can smile?!" Miles whispered furiously to Gwen, who smirked. "He doesn't seem like the joking type."

"Miguel has... something of a soft spot for them," Gwen whispered back. "Not hard to see why."

"Yeah," Miles agreed. "They're adorable."

Petra made their way up from Miguel's open palm to his shoulder, where they promptly took a seat and grabbed onto the folds of his suit for stability. Miguel always made it a point to walk slower and straighter when he had Petra with him, no matter how many times they said he didn't need to.

Miles stiffened when Miguel walked over, but slapped a smile on anyway. Pavitr practically materialized next to him, grinning up at Petra.

"I love this," he said, nudging Miles. "They're taller than both of us now."

Petra waved dramatically. "I'll see you later, Pavitr!" Their friend gave them a small salute, and they turned their attention to Miles. "And it was nice to meet you for five seconds! I'm sure we'll talk more later."

"No, you won't," Miguel grumbled, but Petra didn't care.

"Don't listen to him!" they smiled. "He doesn't control me."

"You are on my shoulder right now," he said flatly.

"And I can just as easily get on another one," they teased. That seemed to shut Miguel up.

Miles couldn't help but laugh at the sight of a tiny, little spider person on Miguel's huge shoulders. Man, he loved it here.

[aipilosse]

If you’re up to it, kiss #25 and Idril/Tuor/Voronwe?

Thank you for the prompt! 25 - for luck

~~~~~~~

Voronwë had reacquainted himself to the salt smell of the sea, the constant thrum of waves against the shore, even the rocking of the gangway, but there was still a knot of fear clogging the back of his throat. He knew the ship had been built by Círdan himself, but then again, so had his ill-fated vessel all those years ago.

The boards shuddered behind him as Tuor let the sacks of supplies he'd been holding fall heavily on the dock.

“Still nervous?” he rumbled.

“I’ve tried this before.”

“But now we’re both with you.” Idril came up on the other side of him, dressed in simple sailor’s garb, even her ever-present green jewel gone, now gifted to Eärendil. “And we’re quite lucky.”

“Is that what you’d call it?” Slavery, death, destruction, loss unimaginable — Voronwë would not call Idril and Tuor’s lot in life fortunate. But then again, they were together still, the three of them.

The prickle of bearded lips caressed one cheek, Idril’s silken mouth grazed the other.

“Let’s try again,” Voronwë said, and boarded the ship, Tuor and Idril following close behind.

[aseaofyoongi]

one scene and a half left for jin and hopefully i get to finish it tonight to post by tomorrow morning/afternoon.

what a ride its been…. no pun intended…. 🫣

[fightingthetides]

For the accompanying drabble to go along with the first one: [x] Just another part of me trying a lil test.

-

As per usual, Yamamoto went for an early morning jog as part of his conditioning regimen. It was important to him to keep in shape as well as making sure to set some time aside to lose himself in his thoughts.

He may be the Rain Guardian, but that didn’t mean he was always calm and gentle. He also had a side to him that could be dangerous and cold like the biting rain.

“Oh? Yamamoto-kun! Good morning!” A familiar and friendly voice calls out to him from behind and he slowly brings his pace to a halt, allowing for Haru to catch up to him. He didn’t expect to see a familiar face this morning, but it’s a nice change of pace to have a break in the usual routine.

“Mornin’! What are you doing out so early in the day? I thought I was going to see you at Tsuna’s place yesterday.” It was a common occurrence for them all to congregate at Tsuna’s place after school. Haru wasn’t always a presence at the Sawada household (she was a busy person), but she did try to drop by as much as she could before she had to leave for whatever it was she was doing.

It was either her needing to run errands, or going to tutoring lessons. Some days, she wouldn’t come over because she had her own club activities to attend to. Gokudera was the one who would make some kind of comment about how he wasn’t sure if Haru could even perform gymnastics properly.

He could only picture her messing up.

Haru did have a bit of a clumsy streak, he couldn’t deny that, haha. Still, it was clear that Haru had a streak of athleticism to her as well as an adventurous heart that paired well with her sense of dramatics. It’s always a surprise to know she’s not in the drama club rather than being someone who helps them with costumes from time to time.

Yesterday was one of the days Haru normally would have dropped by, yelled at Gokudera for bullying Lambo, and then play with the kid to allow the guys some peace while trying to finish their homework. It wasn’t to say that he only missed her presence because Lambo made focusing on their homework harder.

It wasn’t right to view her that way- but it always felt like something was missing if she wasn’t around to play with Lambo and I-pin.

A dramatic sniff.

“You see… Haru got caught by Hibari-san yesterday. She was forced into servitude for a few hours, so she wasn’t able to find time to visit Tsuna-san yesterday. A shame too, because she wanted to see Lambo-chan and I-pin chan.”

Startled, Yamamoto’s eyebrows furrowed with worry. Was Haru forced into servitude for hours? That didn’t seem very much like-

“Hahi! Haru is joking, you know? She wasn’t forced to work for nothing. She got to play with the hibirds. They’re very cute, you know?” He watched as she nervously flailed her arms around as if she’s frantically trying to clear Hibari’s name.

The athlete couldn’t help but chuckle quietly to himself. Sometwaswas hard to tell when Haru was being serious and when she was overexaggerating something for dramatic flair. Even if she was being dramatic, there was always some truth to what she was saying. ‘She probably was asked to something menial as punishment for trespassing. Hibari doesn’t act violently so thoughtlessly.’

Sure, Hibari Kyouya was known for having a temper and a penchant for violence, but it normally was warranted, albeit a bit extreme at times. He still upheld a level of decorum as the face of Namimori. He wasn’t a mindless thug like some people made him out to be.

If you were to ask Yamamoto, the guy acted violently based on necessity, and his mood. As a disciplinary officer, it was his duty to discipline unruly students and rule breakers. Some people don’t learn unless you beat it into them, and that’s probably what Hibari was doing—or so Yamamoto always hypothesized. He didn’t torment children, animals, and girls without a good reason for doing so.

There were some exceptions like the kid or Adelheid. Hibari’s patience towards animals was on another level. Looking at Haru again, an image of her eating her fill of cakes on appreciation day come to mind. ‘She does look like a hamster.’

Aside from the fact she wasn’t a student of Namimori and therefore outside of his jurisdiction (not that it would stop him anyways), maybe Haru’s hamster-like nature was a reason she would be spared from much of Hibari’s violent and scary outbursts. Her politeness should curb some of his anger to some extent.

“Haha, how did you get ‘caught’ by him anyways? Were you okay?” Knowing how Haru could be, if she was caught by Hibari and subsequently threatened/warned, she may have broken down into tears. The way she could go into hysterics at a flip of a switch was impressive by all means—but that also would piss off Hibari, no doubt.

He notes the way she blinks a few times in confusion, tilting her head in confusion. She looked like she was confused by his asking if she was okay. Was that not the normal response one would give when told ‘I got caught by Hibari’? Surely Tsuna would’ve been asking her a million questions out of concern by now.

“Haru is okay. Haru has been accosted by the disciplinary committee before for trespassing, but she’s not faced any harm.”

This wasn’t her first time being caught by Hibari or the other disciplinary committee members? How many times has it been already? Haru Miura was quite bold to repeatedly trespass onto Namimori grounds.  

“Haru sometimes drops off some treats for the birds when she has some time, but other times, Haru gets caught trespassing and she’s told to watch over the birds for a time.”

Hm? Doesn’t that mean that Haru has spent some time with Hibari without the rest of them knowing about it? How long has this been going on for? Somehow, Haru visiting to play with the birds didn’t seem unheard of. Haru has before walked up to the others and ask them to bring out their box animals to give them some pets. What was it she says all the time?

“You know, your box animals work so hard! They deserve to be spoiled every once in a while. Let them have some fresh air without the need to jump right into battle! So, Gokudera-san, bring out Uri. Haru brought fish treats for her.”

Wasn’t it Haru that coined the name Hibird for Hibari’s yellow buddies? What was their relationship that a nickname Haru came up with actually stuck?

“That reminds me, you were the one who coined the name ‘Hibird’ for his birds, weren’t you?”

“Oh!” She claps her hands with excitement. “Haru has always seen the bird perched on his shoulder or on top of his head. It always calls him like ‘Hibari, Hibari!’ It’s really cute.”

It was cute watching her mimic the yellow birds by flapping her hands like they were wings. Somehow that solidifies his theory that Haru is just a small animal that you’d feel bad for biting to death.

“It’s like… a pocket monster. Haru thought that ‘Hibird’ was a cute and fitting name. Somehow the name stuck.”

Never mind, there is a valid chance that she could get herself beaten to death if she voices half the things she thinks aloud. He’s sure that she’s smart enough to know what not to say around Hibari. All the horror stories Tsuna has told her about Hibari’s ‘violent tyranny’ probably had an impact on her.

‘Not enough to keep her away from Namimori or the birds, though.’ He mentally laughs at the thought. Was it that she was just bold or that cute things outweighed her fear? ‘With how Haru isn’t afraid to slap a future mafia boss because he was being a bad influence on kids, she probably thought cute birds outweighed Hibari’s scariness’.

Right you are, Yamamoto. Right you are.

“Sounds like you’re getting along with him just fine. Just be careful not to wake him. He gets cranky from what I hear. Aside from that, he’s not a scary guy.” In fact, Hibari is a reliable guy so as long as you don’t get on his bad side. It was always a relief to have him on your side when in battle, but it was also exciting when he was on the opposite team as well.

The memory of when Hibari joined Fon’s ‘team’ surfaces to the forefront of his mind and it brought about a bubbling sense of amusement from deep in his chest. That Hibari, he loved fighting too much. He gets it though.

Yamamoto would love to play baseball with all the teams in Japan and outside of the country as well! He loved baseball and testing out his skills against different players meant that he could potentially elevate his own level by broadening his horizons. How was it any different from when Hibari wanted to fight against strong fighters even if he may be at a disadvantage? You only improve by struggling and trying hard.

‘It does make it hard to coordinate with him though.’

That said, Hibari was a pretty simple guy as long as you knew what made him tick. As long as Haru was respectful, minded her volume, and continued to be nice to his birds, she should be fine. Yamamoto trusted that Hibari wouldn’t enact senseless violence on an innocent hamster-like Haru. He’d have severely misjudged Hibari if she ever does face harm by Hibari’s hand, however.

Haru playfully salutes, “Roger~ Haru will heed your advice. Haru won’t keep you from your morning jog for much longer. See you next time~” Haru waves him off and she starts walking off in another direction. He sets off on his jog again, starting slow before warming back up to a brisk jog.

“I didn’t know they got along that well that he allows her to play with his birds.” It didn’t seem like Hibari would allow the birds to associate with just any random person. Haru is a rather sociable person, so maybe she somehow warmed up to Hibari enough that he was willing to let her play with the birds.

“Is she changing targets?” He shakes his head and laughs, “Haru would hit me if I actually thought that.” The girl was wholeheartedly faithful to Tsuna, even if he didn’t pay her any attention. He offers her a silent apology in his head for doubting her for even a second.

He knows just how much she likes Tsuna and how despite knowing he’s obsessed with Kyoko, she wants to keep trying so she can proudly state that she did all she could before giving up.

That, is a story for another time.

Yamamoto enjoys the crisp morning air and continues on his jog, smiling when he sees a bird flying overhead. “A shame it isn’t one of his buddies.”

[torawro]

pussy tingling and sparking in delight and excitement because face sitting is actually perfect for him ! there’s something deliciously primal about how he pulls us down into his mouth even further after we’ve already came like DAAMNN this got me twitching and shaking in bed 🤕 ur nagi content is top tier i love it and i love you <33 12/10 content fr

✩ ˛˚ . NAGI SEISHIRO ; — nagi thinks he’s just found out his favourite way to please you and he barely has to move.

warnings: f!reader, all characters written 22+, facesitting, he’s so lazy i love him with my whole being. note: hope you guys enjoy! i’m spreading more nagi around my blog &lt;;3

you almost laugh out the loud the first time nagi does it, the first time you tell him you’re needy as he lies back on the couch after a long day with his head in your lap. his eyes are resting closed while your hands card through his hair and he hums before he’s peeking one open to give you a drowsy, lidded look.

“ah, cmeer then, pretty thing. would be such a hassle to get up right now.” his words are low, drawled as he pushes his huge body down lower until he’s lying flat against the cushions to your side. he’s sending you an expectant look as his fingers squeeze at your thigh, trying to pull you closer before he’s pouting and puffing out his cheeks with a sleepy sigh.

“ehhhh, jus’ hop on, come on—“ nagi grumbles, whines before he’s sending you another look, it’s dark and needy and you think you finally get what he means when you let him lure you closer to where he lays.

as lazy as he was, he could compromise atleast.

his large palms move you so easily, spreading your thighs as you kneel above him before he’s smoothing his fingers through your clothed folds from underneath you and pulling you closer. just close enough for him to nuzzle into your heat with a low groan before his fingers are hooking underneath your panties to pull them to the side, out of his way — hassle or not, he’s always got a little extra energy when it comes to you.

but now, the only thing more bothersome than the idea of moving is how fucking hard nagi is with you straddling his face.

you hear him groan from his place below you, his face between your thighs as you grind down on his tongue. his cheeks and the lower half of his face are slick with your juices as they drip down onto the couch below him, and his fingers flex into the flesh of your hips every time your thighs tighten around his head.

“keep doin’ that, pretty thing.“ you hear nagi mumble under his breath before he buries himself back into you. the low tone of his voice sends vibrations straight to your clit as your hips twitch from the sudden jolt of pleasure, your fingers tightening in the snowy, messy mess of hair across his forehead as your hole twitches around his tongue.

“feels s’ good—ehhh, can just use me like this.” he growls shakily, pulling away momentarily to slide his slender fingers between your folds before he’s spreading you lewdly and diving back in. it’s loud, the way he’s slurping and smacking at your slick as he drinks in the very taste of you that has his cock twitching between his thighs, beads of precum gathering at the tip while he pays no mind to it.

he’s only focused on the feeling, the thought of you creaming on his tongue knowing hes barely had to move a fucking inch.

nagi feels sticky, sweating hard under the heavy fabric of his sweats and hoodie and the air in the room heavy as he laps at your clit. hes flushed from his cheeks to his chest and there’s a thin sheen of sweat sticking to his bangs but he needs more, messier — he’ll drag you in for a bath with him later.

his palm takes a rough, needy handful of your ass as he pulls you deeper into him, allowing him to push his tongue even further past your folds to dip into your hole, lewd squelches filling the room as he fucks you with the muscle.

nagi feels lightheaded at the arousal pooling in his stomach, his cock aching for any sort of friction as it strains at his sweats but he’s just so lost in you instead — suddenly it’s like he’s got a new wave of motivation to push himself further.

he wraps his lips around your clit before sucking it into his mouth, allowing his tongue to roll the sensitive bud so he can feel you jerk in his hold, his large palms rocking you against his mouth as he groans against you once more. its fucking filthy, how easily he moves you as his fingers tremble into your skin — palming at your body like he’s trying to ground himself but pull you closer all at once.

“pretty thing, know you can gimme more. fuck—no fair, gimme it.” nagi almost whimpers, begs — his words are like a breathless plea as they quake with need and you feel the coil in your stomach tighten when you look behind you to watch his own hips twitch at the idea of you cumming on his face, paired with the pressure of you grinding down on tongue.

his movements are almost desperate, they’re suddenly energetic — like a sort of rare motivation from your usually drowsy boyfriend. but your skin feels on fucking fire when the pleasure races through you, you can hear his own quiet moans against your cunt between smacks and suckling noises and that alone makes your thighs tremble either side of his cheeks before you squeeze.

“fuck—sei!” you babble, your clit knocking against nagi’s nose with every buck of your hips as you drag yourself along his mouth, your arousal drenching the cushions below you both.

you jolt when you feel him suck your clit between his teeth, nibbling on the sensitive bud before your orgasm finally washes over you, causing your thighs to tighten around him in response. but instead of pulling away he only wraps his arms around your hips, pulling you even closer until you’re pretty sure he can’t even fucking breathe with how he’s burying himself in you.

it’s greedy, the way nagi’s lapping at you as you cream into his mouth, tongue dipping into feel your walls squeezing down around him as he slurps and drinks everything you have to offer him, like you’re offering half of yourself completely and he’s so eager to accept with slurred like mmm’s and yum, angel’s

you feel your body slacken as you ride out your orgasm, fingers tightening in nagi’s hair as you try so desperately to steady yourself while he continues to bathe your clit in kitten licks, shooting tiny aftershocks through your body. his face is sticky with your slick as it trails down his cheeks, reducing you to soft pants as you try to catch your breath with every swipe of his tongue.

you’re prepared to climb back off as you shift, assuming he’d want to get back to his post practice nap and his online ranking. but before you can move yourself off you shriek at the feeling of him speeding up his ministrations again, his hold on you still tight as he grumbles from between your legs once more

“hey, not done yet, angel. wanna give you more, come on. don’t think this is a pain anyway.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[deansbeer]

⊹ ﹒ 𝝑𝑒 DRENCHED IN SIN ﹒†  

𓋜 ׅ 𓂃 © cosmicanakin ݂ 🐄 ࣪ 𝆬 ᜔ 𖨂

YAP SESH! new layout isn't as pretty as the one i use for my blurbs 'n drabbles—at least i think they are—but i wanted to try it out. neither is it a guarantee the layout will stay this way either. so ignore my old layouts for my other FICS, BLURBS, & DRABBLES. they're all SO disorganized 'n honestly? 'm too lazy to reorganize 'em.

WARNING(S)! smutty smut smut | oral sex (f!receiving) | squirting | praise kink | teasing | DOM!DEAN | S9!DEAN | dean's lil scruff | pure filth | overstimulation. ୨ৎ EIGHTEEN PLUS! ADULT CONTENT | minors do NOT interact.

୨ৎ CREDS @pommecita 4 LACE BOW DIVIDER !

୨ৎ JENSEN'S LIBRARY.

it's been weeks. weeks of shitty motels, long drives, and even longer hunts. but now, you're finally back in bed with dean, and he's got that mischievous glint in his eye that makes your stomach flip.

"'m telling you, sweetheart," he drawls, his cocky smirk widening as he kneels between your thighs, spreading them wider. "you can do it again. you squirted all over me last time."

you groan, covering your face with your hands. "dean, that was a fluke. 's not gonna happen again."

he leans down, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your thigh, his scruff scratching your sensitive skin. "a fluke, huh?" he murmurs, his lips trailing higher. "guess i'll just have to prove you wrong."

before you can argue, he's already between your legs, his mouth hot and wet as he drags his tongue through your folds. he licks a slow, deliberate stripe up to your clit, sucking it into his mouth like he's starved. the sound he makes—half groan, half growl—has your back arching off the bed, your hands twisting in the sheets.

"shit, de," you gasp, your legs trembling as his tongue flicks over your clit again and again, each stroke sending sparks shooting through your body.

he pulls back just enough to look up at you, his lips glistening, his green eyes dark with hunger. "god, i missed this," he mutters, sliding two fingers into you with ease, curling them just right. "missed the way you taste, the way you fall apart for me."

you bite your lip, trying to keep your moans quiet, but it's useless. his mouth is back on you, his fingers working you over with expert precision, and you can already feel the pressure building low in your belly.

"dean," you pant, your hips bucking against his face. "'s too much. i can't—"

"you can," he cuts you off, his voice muffled against you. "c'mon, babydoll. give it to me."

his tongue and fingers move faster, relentless, and you're trembling so hard you can barely breathe. the coil in your belly tightens, tighter and tighter, until it snaps, and suddenly you're cumming so hard you see stars.

"oh my god—dean!" you cry out as your release gushes out of you, soaking his entire face and your thighs. you try to squirm away, embarrassed, but his big palms clamp down on your stomach, holding you in place.

"oh no, you don't," he growls, his lips brushing over your sensitive clit as he keeps you pinned. "that was fuckin' beautiful, sweetheart. you're dripping all over me."

"dean, baby, stop," you whine, your face burning as you try to push him away. "you're gettin' it everywhere."

he chuckles, pressing a soft kiss to your slick folds before pulling back, his face and chest a mess but looking completely unbothered. "sweetheart," he says, wiping his forehead and mouth with the back of his hand, "if you think i give a shit about getting messy, you don't know me at all."

before you can respond, he's crawling back up your body, his lips crashing into yours, and you taste yourself on his tongue. "you're fuckin' incredible," he murmurs against your lips, his cock pressing hard and heavy against your slick folds. "and now i'm gonna fuck you s'good, you'll make an even bigger mess."

and knowing dean, you don't doubt it for a fucking second.

[blvdheart]

cw: mdni, fem!reader, very short drabble, hand kink, finger sucking, drool, dumbification(?), p in v, lmk if i’m missing anything

note: hi idk what this is…i just want di leon’s fingers in my mouth </3

masterlist

────────୨ৎ────────

“You with me, angel?”

Two snaps of Leon’s fingers brought you back to reality, your once rolled back eyes setting back on him. Your vision was hazy, it felt like there was a dreamy filter surrounding your lover.

All he had to do was let you hold his hand and trace the lines of his palm to your heart’s content before you were tugging him on top of you, snaking your hands towards his sweats, and persuading him to fuck you. Not that it took much effort, honestly. One bat of your lashes and he was a goner.

“Uh huh.”

Even as you nodded, he got the impression you weren’t entirely there. You usually had more snark, he must be doing a pretty good job.

“Yeah?” He stopped fucking into you for a moment and instead waved three fingers, a lazy grin on his face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Mhm.” You rolled your lower half against him, whining because he had stopped.

Ah. So you weren’t really listening to a word he was saying.

“Just gonna agree with whatever I say?”

Another brainless and pitifully eager nod. He laughed breathlessly, his hips smacking up against yours again into the rhythm you had pleaded for.

“Tsk, my poor girl can’t even think straight. What am I gonna do with you?” His eyes darted down to your glossy lips, your bottom one wet with the drool trickling down your chin. You couldn’t even remember to swallow, your mouth agape and letting the sweetest noises escape.

He took the opportunity to slip his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, entranced by the way you began sucking immediately. A simple gesture like that was enough to have your cunt clenching around him, and you accidentally bit down on his fingers but he didn’t mind much. His girl was feeling good, that’s all that mattered.

“Jesus, you tightened up. You like that?”

“Mm…mmph.” Your stomach filled with warmth, thighs squeezing his hips as you crossed your ankles across his back, locking him in place against you.

He groaned at the way your tongue moved on its own and tried to swirl around him. How could you not enjoy it? Leon had always taken care of his hands, pristine nails and all. Those same fingers always hit the deepest spots inside you and circled around your clit.

His hands always made you feel so safe. No harm would come your way from them, you’d trust Leon with them around your neck or gagging you. Those same hands would clean you up and hold you close after he made you cum.

So really, is there any shame in them turning you on?

[yoursjaeyun]

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐞𝐬𝐬.

𝐩airing. bf!jay x fmr

𝐠enre. angst, fluff, suggestive ( tiniest bit ) | post-sex-argument kinda thing

𝐰arnings. not that many tbh… nicknames, lots of kissing, jay being clingy, lmk if i need to add more.

𝐰c. 1k+

𝐚/𝐧. yes i wrote another argument with jay drabble leave me alone pls . :)

you lie on your side, staring at the wall, the last remainders of anger still simmering in your chest. the sheets are tangled around your legs, sticky with sweat and other remnants of the night. you can feel jay's presence behind you, his warm body felt in sharp contrast to the lingering cold tension on your skin.

the argument keeps replaying in your mind like a stuck record. the raised voices and harsh words now seem pointless. your heart is knotted with frustration, and even though there's been a spark between you, your anger hasn't fully faded.

you hear jay shift behind you, the bed creaking under his weight. a moment later, his arm snakes around your waist, pulling you back against his chest. his breath is warm against the nape of your neck, but instead of comforting you, it only fuels your frustration. how can he be so calm? so casual? after everything that was said.

“still mad?” his voice is soft.

you bite your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a response. the last thing you want is for him to think that he can just brush everything under the rug with a few well-placed kisses and whispered apologies.

but jay has always had a knack for finding the cracks in your armor. his lips find the curve of your shoulder, trailing lazy kisses up your neck. you shiver despite yourself, your body betraying the anger still coiled in your chest.

“y/n,” he murmurs against your skin, his voice a velvet caress that sends a shiver down your spine. “come on, baby, talk to me.”

you let out a sigh, your irritation slipping through in the sound. “i don’t want to talk to you right now.”

his lips pause in their journey up your neck, and you feel him pull back slightly. there’s a moment of silence, and you can practically feel the gears turning in his mind as he tries to figure out how to approach this. jay is many things—charming, witty, endlessly patient—but right now, you don’t want any of those things. you want him to understand how much he hurt you.

“i messed up. i shouldn’t have said those things. i’m sorry.” he says finally, his voice losing some of its playful edge.

you close your eyes, willing yourself not to cry. you’re still so angry, but there’s a part of you that hates feeling this way, hates the distance that’s grown between you two because of a stupid argument.

“you always do this,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. “you say things you don’t mean, and then you act like everything’s fine. its not.”

there’s a pause, and for a moment, you think he might just drop it, let the silence stretch out between you like a chasm neither of you are brave enough to cross. but then he sighs, and you feel his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer.

“y/n, i’m sorry. i was stupid, and i said things i didn’t mean. i don’t want to lose you over something so dumb.” you could tell he regretted it now, especially by the tone of his voice.

you want to stay mad, to hold on to the anger a little longer, but it’s hard when he’s being like this—when he’s holding you like he never wants to let go.

but instead of responding, you push his arms away and slip out of bed, the cool air hitting your bare skin as you stand. without a word, you grab the discarded shirt from the floor and pull it over your head, barely covering yourself as you make your way toward the bathroom. you can feel jay's eyes on you, but you don’t turn around. you’re still too angry, too raw.

you hear him sigh behind you, a soft sound filled with frustration and regret. a moment later, his footsteps follow you, and before you even think to close the bathroom door, his arms are around your waist again, pulling you back against him. his lips find your neck, pressing soft, apologetic kisses to your skin.

“y/n, please,” he whispers, his voice laced with guilt. “this is the last thing i’d ever want to happen between us—” “you made it happen. this is your mess.” you cut him off.

you take your hands off of the edge of the sink, looking up at him from the mirror, trying to focus on anything but the feel of his lips against your skin, the warmth of his body pressed against yours. but it’s impossible to ignore the way your heart beats just a little faster when he’s this close.

“you can’t keep hurting me and then expect everything to be okay because you apologized,” you continue, your voice barely above a whisper. “it’s not that simple.”

“i know it’s not. but i love you, and i’ll do whatever it takes to make this right. just... don’t push me away.” he says, and there’s a tremor in his voice that makes your heart clench.

his words hang in the air, heavy with sincerity, and for a moment, you feel your anger slip away, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. you don’t want to fight anymore. you just want to be held, to feel like everything will be okay.

you stay silent, allowing jay to cling to you as you both begin to clean yourselves up. his hands are gentle as he helps, and the quiet between you is soothing, a way to ease the tension without words.

jay doesn’t push you for conversation, his presence a steady comfort as he quietly assists. he’s patient. the room slowly returns to its normal state, and the silence between you starts to feel less oppressive, more like a shared space where both of you can catch your breath.

finally, as you finish up and the room is back in order, jay breaks the silence. “do you want some tea before bed?” he asks softly, a hint of hope in his voice. “it can help you sleep better.”

you nod, the gesture small but meaningful. “yeah, that would be nice.”

jay’s face brightens with relief, and he moves to prepare the tea. you watch from the edge of the kitchen, the familiarity of his actions a comforting reminder of the normalcy you both seek. he works efficiently, filling the kettle, selecting your favorite tea, and letting the water come to a boil.

when the tea is ready, he brings a steaming cup to you. you take the cup from him, the warmth of the ceramic soothing against your cold fingers. jay settles beside you, his gaze attentive as you sip the tea slowly, savoring the calm it brings.

the room is quiet, the only sounds being the gentle clinking of the cup and the soft hum of jay’s breathing. he watches you with an unreadable expression as you finish your tea.

as you place the empty cup down, you finally turn to him, your eyes meeting his with a gentle smile. he waits, his gaze steady, and you can see the vulnerability in his eyes.

leaning in, you press a gentle kiss to his lips, the touch tender—and jay’s arms instantly wrap around you, pulling you close as he returns the kiss, a sigh of relief escaping him.

the kiss deepens, his lips moving in unison against yours as his hands slide up under your shirt, his touch firm but gentle. your arms wrapping around his neck as you both lose yourselves in the kiss.

you break the kiss, both of you breathless and flushed, and a soft giggle escapes your lips. jay’s eyes sparkle with such affection, and he pulls you into a warm embrace, holding you close as you snuggle against him.

“you’re cute when you’re mad,” he murmurs, his voice light and teasing.

“shut up,” you laugh, your voice muffled against his chest as you hug him tighter.

jay chuckles, his hands stroking your back in a soothing rhythm, until there was a little silence again, as if he was trying to find the right words to say. “i’m sorry, y/n. i really am.”

you look up at his lips again and only nodded, caressing his cheek with your thumb. “its okay, but if it happens again. there will be consequences.” you raise your eyebrows

“yeah? what kind of consequences?” he teases and you roll your eyes as he pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead. “you’ll see,” you chuckle.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

YOURSJAEYUN est. 2024 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[ybklix]

playing with his hair

giirrrl idk, a feral thought maybe; bf!felix x fem!reader w his long hair since i’m too lazy to make it a whole detail fic for now lol so, (i deadass tried to make it a drabble but it pass the 1k words😮‍💨)

genre - warnings: smut, fluff!! dry humping, handjob, grinding, unprotected piv, mention of cockwarming, idol bf felix btw

word count: 1.6k

a/n: this is what i have to deal with everyday, actually, oopsies, he’s next to me rn! also writing in present it’s so new, I like to read it when yall write like that, but I’ll stick with past tense😁 edit: girl i had this in the drafts for days, but he was a little too happy in his recent promoting video, he’s sleeping outside, someone pick him up /jk srly pls

Felix likes to try new hairstyles ever since he let grow his hair, he feels very confident with it and likes the way you randomly stroke it every time you’re together.

Your idea of fun is one of those very rare free afternoons for him since he’s all the time busy at work; it’s when you’re just chilling together at your place because you feel too lazy to go out but very comfortable with each other’s company.

Your days are simple, and your hours with him are very limited but he always makes sure to enjoy being with him; so you try to do everything at once, watch a movie, talk, lay on his chest while he’s playing games on his cell phone… and suddenly, just playing around, with you sitting on his lap in front of him, giggling while playing with his hair.

“Fuck, your hair is so fried” you tease him with a smile, looking at your fingers entangling with his straight hair.

He pouts, “Stop, then don’t touch it…” he responds also joking, just watching you with heart and sparkling eyes.

Felix rests his hands on your tights and caresses them softly. You down your gaze to meet his, he’s suddenly looking at you so sweetly that makes your cheeks get a little warm.

“Can I play with it?” you asked joyfully.

“With what?”

“Your hair” you replied in an obvious tone, “I can do pigtails, braids, middle part, side part” you continue to say, laughing while playing with his hair.

Felix chuckles softly, completely in love, closing his eyes sometimes, then looking up at your arms.

“Wait here” you speak again, standing up from his lap and going to get a comb, hair ties, bobby pins and some random hair clips to take pictures of him just for fun.

“You can also do my make-up if you want” he comments, raising his thick voice so you can hear him.

You sit back down on his lap.

“Oh no, you wear makeup almost every day, let your face rest today” you answer, kissing him tenderly on the bridge of his nose, hiding a little bit the fact that you love seeing your boyfriend’s bare face, straight black eyelashes, big dark eyes, full lips, cheeks and nose with freckles all over.

You laugh at doing whatever you want with his hair, taking silly pictures every time you find him adorable, just giggling saying your favorite inside jokes, then ending with a bow on his hair.

“You can really use me, huh” Felix says, giving you a funny but adorable look with his eyes wide open.

Felix starts caressing your back, with more consistent and intense caresses and he suddenly realizes how you haven’t kissed each other on the lips the whole time, so he moves closer to you and you without hesitation receive his kiss, following a tender and slow rhythm at first, pressing your lips together in a delicate lip rubbing, but you’re a bit desperate when it comes to each other, so your boyfriend catches his breath between kisses and looks himself at the work of being more glued and pouncing on you, with his touches all over your body, from your thighs to your back, slipping his hands under your blouse to feel your bare skin.

Your make out starts to heat up precipitously that you can feel the growing erection in his shorts, so, with your hands wrapped around his neck, you begin to move over his cock, pressing it to your core and stimulating you both. At this point, your pussy is throbbing and you feel slightly heated. You’re always impressed by how incredibly fast you want and desire him. You both moan softly at the friction. As you pull apart you smile slightly mischievously at him and for some reason you start kissing his neck, which Felix loves so, causing him to give you a huge tender smile showing his teeth, clutching his grip on your hips tighter.

You pull away once more to meet the wide grin on his face, which gently turns into a slightly strained expression as you continue to move your body against his erection, Felix gasps, his lips forming a soft expression of satisfaction this time with his submissive facing enjoying the naughty act of crushing his cock with your center, with your clothes on.

“Fuck, baby, it feels so good” Felix sighs, biting his slightly swollen, full lips, lowering his gaze to your pussy being trapped in him, moving his erection back and forth, guiding your hips for better movement.

You smile satisfactorily at him in response, each time feeling the heat of your body and pussy brush against your panties, wetting them all over, just playing more with your arousal. You see him, he looks so fucking cute and yet so hot with the last few hairstyles you gave him, two little high ponytails with bows leaving the rest of his hair loose, he looked silly cute, but serious manly moans coming out of him contrasts somehow so perfectly.

Felix sighs again sonorously, his legs shaking a little, he doesn’t think he can take it long enough without cumming if you keep moving so dedicatedly on him so he speaks again:

“Mmm, c’mon baby, take off your clothes, or do you want me to take you to bed.”

A pleasant shock goes through your body as you hear him a little more needy, you’re not thinking straight and you don’t want to pull away from him so you just reply a simple, “It’s okay like this, Lix.”

With your heart beating fast you grab his shorts, indicating you want to pull them down, Felix helps you right away, releasing his pink, needy, throbbing cock, you look down at his member and then at the same time you join gazes, Felix looks at you so needy and innocent, his big eyes begging you to touch him, you can’t help but melt every time he does that and in a needy sigh, with your cheeks a little red, you stand up, embarrassed, pulling down your comfy cloth shorts along with your panties, climbing back onto his lap, catching your boyfriend licking his lips at the sight of your cute bare mons venus.

Felix smiles, so excited at the thought of feeling you on him again, now with the sensation of your warm wet center in him, he gets more excited at the thought that you were finally going to settle on him ready to fuck, however, you start pumping his entire erect length, making him gasp loudly as he throws his head back, marking his bulging Adam's apple in his throat. Felix returns to his posture, looking straight into you with desire, biting his lip as you with a smile, touch all over his cock, stroking his tip gently with your fingers, feeling his stiffness and the slight sticky precum sliding down your hand as you jerk him off.

You’re so wet, and Felix is getting over the edge, so you finally accommodate your body, squeezing your pussy tighter on his cock, grinding on it a little before you put his cock inside you, encouraging in him more arousal if that was possible, teasing him and you at the sensation of his dick rub between your labia, until you feel his throbbing member so foreplayed, and until you see your boyfriend’s sweet expression as he can’t resist anymore and, finally you insert his rigid manhood completely in you. The temperature of both your bodies rises, it feels so fucking good to be filled by him, every move you make comes out of pure bliss, panting, sliding on his cock in a rhythm that makes him shudder and moan; Felix feels every part of his body beat intensely, enjoying every thrust into him.

“Oh, fuck, l-ove, ke-keep going please, I’m gonna cum, fuuck” he whimpers, desperate in a high-pitched tone, closing his eyes.

Felix thinks about the idea of cumming all of him inside you, of filling you up, brings him to a better ecstasy and in a thick sigh of relief and satisfaction, he manages to cum, relaxing a bit all the tension built in his body, making his thighs restless in soft tingling and trembling. You rest your hands on his shoulders and hide your face on the side of his neck, moaning close to his ear and with your face brushing against his soft hair, gently overwhelming you with his sweet scent, you bite your lip at the sensation of his hot semen shooting inside you and you also sense you’re so close to your climax that, despite being slightly tired, you intensify and increase each movement, sliding a little more slippery as you are filled with his cum. You hug him without thinking, your walls squeeze his sensitive cock still stuck in your core, you’re climaxing so intensely that you open your mouth almost in an inaudible squeal, your vision blurs for a few seconds and you let yourself release completely onto your boyfriend.

You feel the joining of agitated chests and breaths, Felix hug you warmly wrapping your back, once again your body melts at the slightest touch of his, but you can’t help but feel him so close to you, acting tenderly. Felix doesn’t even have to say it, but you know he loves you, you feel it too, so you relax your body on top of him, stroke his hair and he gives you a soft kiss on your shoulder as he caresses your back and keeps you in such a vulnerable position with both sexes together, with you on top of him until you decide to move.

——————-

𐙚TAGLIST: @rylea08 @hann1bee @iovecb97 @armystay89 @bubblebisk

[tojisun]

she wanting more

!! smut - minors dni; f!reader; unrealistic sex!! and its v short bc its just a messy drabble :3 // toji ver <33 // divider by @/plutism!!

thinking about neighbour!simon and how he deliberately wears skin-tight white shirts for him to shrug off whenever he mows his lawn because he knows you’re watching from your kitchen window.

thinking about how he also keeps inviting you to his house every game night.

simon has his other friends over but his full attention is always on you — it doesn’t matter if his team is making their play, all he is focused on is you. he’s a little possessive too: he always has an arm ‘casually’ looped around you or thrown over your chair; always has his head inched towards you to hear you better; always refills your drink or offers you food; always making small talk about your work and your week and everything and anything in between.

thinking about neighbour!simon coming over to fix your sink or your washing machine or to help you clean your pool. you greet him by the door and he’s leaning on the post, his bulging arms crossed over his chest, his lips tugged in a lazy smile.

“hey, darlin’,” he greets. “lemme check what’s bothering a sweet thing like you.”

you giggle, fiddling with the hem of your shorts. “oh, you,” you mumble, trying to ignore the tingle in your cheeks. then you swivel and tilt your head for him to follow you in.

simon grunts but he doesn’t move. not yet, anyway. he lets you walk ahead of him to watch the way you strut back into the comforts of your home. he savours the way your hips sway, your pyjama shorts softly riding up with every rub against your thighs. he waits with bated breath, knowing what’s coming next.

his need bloats when you bend over to pick up guest slippers for him, your shorts hitching up enough to have your red lace panties peak through. simon almost whimpers when your shorts kept riding higher, leaving the the fat of your ass exposed. christ, he breathes in sharply, you look absolutely ravaging.

he doesn’t even hide the desire in his eyes when you turn to look at him because he knows. oh how he knows that you deliberately tease him only to act coy after. he knows that you like him just as much.

your neighbour turns into a fucking monster when the pretense finally pops, and drills you, hard, in mating press. simon has always wanted to fill you with his cum; has always wanted to stuff you full and leave you drunk off of his cock and his spunk. he has always wanted your tits pressed flat against his; has always wanted his lips locked with yours. it doesn’t matter if you can’t even kiss him back with the way your lips are stretched as moans and squeals and sobs fall from them because simon has always wanted it messy.

he has always wanted to see you ruined of him.

“sii!!” you squeak after the aborted ah-ah-ahs, your hands scratching at his back in an effort to ground yourself from the dizzying pleasure. “so deep! so deep!”

simon laughs as he continues to humps your pussy, dragging his cock at your walls with every erratic thrusts. “yeah? y’ feel me reaching so far in you, huh? y’ve never been fucked like this, haven’t you sweetheart? haven’t been filled properly the way this pussy deserves? oh, doll,” he croons, his lips tugging up in a grin so mean it makes you sniffle.

“well, here’s good news for you — y’r needy cunt will never be lonely again.”

sooooo i kept rereading the toji ver bc it fit simon sm :(( so i buffed it up and made it fit him and here we are!

[samsno1]

warnings: oral s. (f.), pussydrunk sam

Sam never failed to make you see stars. Especially when he had you laid on your back, his hair tickling against your inner thighs and hands holding your hips down with an almost bruising grip as his mouth ate you out like his last meal.

Sam liked going slow, appreciating your taste and the feeling of going down on you. Your legs tightening around his head from time to time, when he hit an especific spot, your fingers going into his hair when you were close, your hips rocking against his face just for you to whine when he stops your squirming with his hands.

It was heaven.

He would get drunk on the feeling quickly, going for minutes and minutes until his jaw gave out — which usually took a long time to happen — leaving you either edged or overstimulated.

"S– Ah– mm..." You moaned out, pushing against his head with your hands. He wouldn't give it up. "T'much baby, too much" You managed to stutter out and Sam finally stopped, but not after giving a last teasing lick over your whole cunt, making you shudder.

He started kissing up your bare body, going through all the previous bites and hickeys he left on his way down. He left one last kiss on your left collarbone before being face to face with you. He had that look on his face, that lovesick, pussydrunk look he always had when he went down on you.

Your hands were tangled in his hair, your lips slightly parted as you let heavy breaths out. Hooded eyes and a lazy smile adorned your features as you looked at all the details in Sam's face.

"Sorry love" He said, pecking your lips. "You just taste so good it drives me insane" He murmured against your lips. You hummed and kissed him yourself, a bit longer, a bit more desperate than a simple peck. You pulled back again.

"You are an addict, that's what you are" You joked with him, shooting him a mischievous smile and his hands squeezed at your waist.

"How can I not be?" He didn't wait for you to answer as he suddenly reached down with his hand and gathered some of your slick in his middle finger. You opened your mouth in a soundless moan, your pussy still sensitive.

He brought his finger up to his mouth and sensually sucked on it, looking directly in your eyes. He made a show with humming — practically moaning — and you were absolutely speechless as you swallowed harshly.

"God..." You whispered.

"Especially when you look at me like that. Fuck, you're so hot" He almost growled as he smashed his lips against yours again, his tongue already invading your mouth in hunger. He arched your back with his hands, urging to be closer to your body.

Sam was absolutely crazy for you and he always showed you just how much.

—

A/N: Hey, this is just a tiny tiny drabble to give you guys something while I finish up a jealous!sam fic. Hope you enjoyed you horny asses.