#maybe I’d write a short drabble

[euthymiya]

If I did a milestone event would ppl participate

[inkykeiji]

No because when Sukuna told everyone they can't move until he says so was SO DADDY OF HIM UGH.

ANONNNNNN i caught up with jjk (i was three episodes behind!) PURELY DUE TO UR ASK TODAY HEHEHE and oh my good god, you’re so fucking right!!! i swear to the lord himself like every single damn thing that leaves sukuna’s lips has me on the floor by his feet pressing my cheek further and further into his shoes/toes like he is SO hot it’s actually insane

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

briefly very briefly considering doing some kind of event for an important follower milestone i’m about to hit but :’3 i feel like i won’t have time………..

[yan-randomfandom]

hi!!! omg i just discovered your blog and i’m in LOVE! could i request yandere stanford pines (platonic or romantic or some other type is up to you) with a reader who is a reincarnated euclidean/flatworlder/dream demon? (i don’t know if you’re familiar with same coin theory, but that’s my inspiration!) preferably with no/limited memories of their past life? i imagine ford would be pretty suspicious at first because of his experiences with bill, maybe even try to kill them… but who knows if those feelings will change… that, or maybe he would get obsessed with them as a replacement muse… lots of possibilities! feel free to change/add anything to the concept, or if it doesn’t interest you, i’d appreciate any yandere ford in general! thank you!!!

Yandere!Stanford Pines x Godling!Reader

this took me a while, but i finally got around to writing it! thank you for your kind words, anon! this one contains continuous drabbles— because this is so long, feel free to point out any mistakes

🌑

You have been summoned.

Even from your deep slumber, the presence of other ghastly beings roaming around the dimension was painfully obvious to you. How curious; they don't seem to belong here.

"You. You grant wishes right? No deals?"

The one who summoned you flinched when you made eye contact. With their chin lifted, they tried to seem intimidating, yet the tremble of their lips and the quaking of their legs gave them away.

"Indeed, but," you replied, smiling to the best of your ability. You hovered around them, critically observing their physical body, and, by extension, their soul.

They are nothing short of terrified. But intriguingly, their fear does not mainly stem from your presence.

"Pray tell," you mused, twirling their hair with your fingers, "what happened here, dear human? I've been asleep for some time, so I request a small favor: answer my question."

Because if you had to be honest, you have no fucking idea what's happening right now. The longer you stay awake, the more you realize that you have no memory of your past.

"Bill Cipher happened. This is the Weirdmaggedon," they answered, their body shaking more intensely. You paused. "I don't know what he wants. Please, all I ask is for you to transfer me and my family somewhere safe. The ones I care about have turned to stone. We just want to be happy. Please."

A giggle escaped you. "A noble wish. Very well, I shall send you and your family to the nearest safe place."

You placed your hand on the top of their head, and they vanished out of thin air.

Humming a tune, you made your way out of the cave where you had been trapped and finally saw the world outside.

...

Swirling colors and chaotic phenomena surrounded you. What a monstrosity. Someone else has taken over this area—Bill Cipher, was it?

Turning your head, you saw an enormous bubble wrapped in chains. A grin stretched across your face.

So that’s where you sent your summoner.

🌒

Weirdmaggedon is officially over.

Stanford knew that. Bill is gone. His brother is slowly but surely regaining his memories back. Everything was going to be... normal again.

As normal as it can be anyway. A sigh left Ford when he rolled over to his side, staring at practically nothing. The room is pitch black.

He closed his eyes.

...

It's bright. With a gasp, his eyes snapped open.

A familiar field. The gentle breeze doesn't calm him down in the slightest. He's back here. Again. Why? Did Bill somehow escape? Is he out for revenge? That stupid dream demon—!!

"Gree—"

Ford shouted, immediately swinging his fist at you. You dodged swiftly in time.

"—tings! Woah!" you huffed, taking extra care to ensure he didn’t land a finger on you. "Is this how you usually greet a higher being, Stanford Pines?"

The human’s heart races uncontrollably. This can’t be happening. "Bill, what twisted form have you taken now? Didn’t we destroy you already?!"

You blinked, then laughed. "I'm not Bill, silly! He's long gone, I'm pretty sure. How should I know?"

Not Bill? What kind of nonsense are you spewing out? Stanford's expression darkened. This might be a dream, but he really didn’t want to deal with you—especially not after everything that had just happened.

You immediately noticed his demeanor.

"...Oh. I'm sorry," you muttered, getting close enough to meet his eyes. They widened at your words. "I didn't mean to laugh at your misery. I've just been so confused lately."

"What?" was all Ford could manage to say.

"I heard all about you," you said carefully, making gestures with your hands. "Human with six fingers. The man who freed Bill Cipher. Who has traveled across dimensions."

"Who told you...?"

You smiled. "I asked many—don't worry about that part. I was wondering if you could tell me anything about myself. You seem to know a lot, Pines."

Ford woke up.

Was that just a dream? Were you even real? Bill is long gone, dead. Isn't he? He won't find the answers to his questions until he falls asleep again.

🌓

Ford doesn't do anything about you until he's sure of himself. You were definitely just a figment of his imagination, right? A dream.

That’s exactly why he couldn’t believe it when you showed up again. A stupid, curious expression on your face.

And this time, Ford took it upon himself to try and kill you.

"Urk! Don’t do this! I understand you're traumatized, but I really am just trying to find my home!" you stammered, flying and dodging every attack he threw your way.

This is weird. You’re saying things Bill would never say. Is he really trying the opposite approach just to manipulate Ford again?

A massive blast from a cannon struck you.

To both of your surprise, the attack did absolutely nothing to damage you.

"I'm alive!" you exclaimed with glee, up in the air, comically rotating from the impact. "Done yet, Pines? I simply want to talk, you know!"

... Of course. Both of you are untouchable in the dreamscape. While you can imagine anything within both the mind and the dream, a being like Bill isn't stupid enough to enter with his actual body. Guess it worked the same way for you, too. It was still worth a shot.

Ford woke up.

🌔

"Finally ready?"

You tittered at him up from above. Ford narrowed his eyes at you.

"What do you want?" he deadpanned. "You're not here to make a deal, are you?"

"Deals are not my forte," you said, showing him a negative gesture. "I do wishes. But if I have to admit, I wouldn't wish something from me either."

"So you trick people," he replied, gritting his teeth. "Why do you feel the need to do that? What benefits do you gain?"

You glanced at the side before looking back at him, shrugging. "I don't remember."

"Is that so? How many wishes?"

"One."

His eyebrows furrowed. "Bill—"

"I am not Bill," for the first time since you've met him, your voice finally sounded firm. "As far as we both know, he is gone."

"... What is your name, then?"

"I don't remember."

🌕

A frustrated huff left Ford as he rubbed between his eyebrows. You giggled, pushing your hand through his hair. It's soft.

"You're not being helpful at all," he said.

"Apologies," you replied, looking sheepish. "It's hard to answer your questions if I know nothing."

"There must be something you know," the man insisted, stepping away from your touch. He doesn't like how gentle it was.

You hummed, crossing your arms as you floated away. "Do you know how Bill looks like? Am I of similar physique, perhaps?"

Ford paused as his eyes glanced up and down at your form. You can't help but feel uneasy under his tenseful gaze.

"You don't know what Bill looks like?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

This man sure is suspicious of you. Not that you blame him. "No. I believe I never met him."

"You believe?" he scoffed. "I hope you know it's hard to trust you."

"Well," you drawled, "would it convince you if I said you can wish for my memory to come back?"

His eyes widened.

You chuckled. Maybe this is too shocking for him. Take it slow, you thought.

"Before anything else, though, how about we enjoy a nice cup of dream tea?"

🌔

You stared at the chess board in between you and Ford, confusion filling your face. "Wait, how does the knight move again?"

"Think of this shape," Ford explained, forming a black marker with his thoughts and drawing the letter 'L' in mid-air. "The knight moves to the end of this point. Just try to visualize it on the board."

"Oh, I think I understand," you muttered, choosing to move your knight in the corner of the board.

Ford grinned. He placed his queen right next to your king. "Checkmate."

"What?!" you gasped, your eyes rambling around the whole chest board. "I mistook my king for the queen! I say rematch!"

A hearty laugh escaped Ford's lips. If this was in the physical world, he's sure that his cheeks would start hurting from smiling so much.

He still wasn’t sure if you were dangerous or not. Really, he should know better than to mess with otherworldly beings.

But maybe this time, you're different. Because, as far as he knows, you're currently powerless.

🌓

"Pines," you said as Ford roamed his hands across your body. He said this was his way of observing how different you were from Bill. "Aren’t you going to use your wish to help me regain my memory? Or do you want to use it for something else?"

He rubbed his thumb over the side of your body shape. Interesting. You're just as two-dimensional as Bill is. "I only have one chance of using my wish, don't I?"

"Indeed," you murmured, shifting slightly under his touch. "I won't stop you if you use it for yourself, but I'll have to find someone else who might use the wish for me."

Ford halted all his movements.

"What?"

You drifted away from his fingers. He stared at you, wide-eyed.

"I said I'll find another to grant my wish for me," you explained. "Anyway, how was your assessment? Am I anything like Bill?"

Ford continued to stare at you, looking as if he were lost in thought.

...

"Pines?"

"Sorry," he coughed, "But, yes, you're quite similar to Bill."

You beamed, floating over to him and ruffling his hair. "Another step closer to figuring out who I am! Thank you, Pines!"

Ford woke up.

He stared at the dark ceiling. The sun has barely risen.

You had no memories. If he helped you get them back, would you be indebted to him? Or would you turn out like Bill, who wanted to rule the world?

Ford can't let you meet up with another human.

There's only one way out of this.

🌒

"You're ready to use your wish?" you gasped, placing your hands on his shoulders. "That's excellent news! However—"

"Question. Do you have limits in your wishes?" Ford asked deliberately, careful with his every word.

You hesitated before replying. "I suppose not."

His large hands held yours over his shoulders. You glanced at his six fingers before meeting his gaze again.

"Then I wish to be your master."

You felt your soul fall to the deepest depths of the dreamscape.

"You'll do anything I ask for. Be under my will. There is no turning back, dream demon."

🌑

[kneelingshadowsalome]

Ok this is very random but how do you think Ghost would deal w an s/o who is still a virgin at a very big girl age 🥴 maybe they’d be seeing each other for a while, and when things heat up and she confesses, how would he deal? Would he be honored and accept being her first or would he reject her altogether bc she is inexperienced?

(Because I’m in my 20s and safe to say on top of everything else in my life except this, I haven’t come across anyone with whom I’d like to be intimate with yet and though I try not to let it get to me, some part of me sometimes feels like a freak or like something is wrong with me)

I hope I did not cross any boundaries or make you uncomfortable by sharing this, if I did I apologize and please feel free to delete this ❤️🕊️

Ghost x FVirgin!Reader Word count: 2,9 k Tags/warnigs: Mild smut, light angst, fluff, comfort, praise & size kink Summary: Reader tells Ghost they’re a virgin while things are about to go down. 

A/N: Oh anon!! No boundaries crossed here at all! Your request (or at least I took it as such and got inspired to write a brief oneshot about it) was very sweet. This of course is my HC but Simon would only and only take pride in being your first. He would get a huge ego boost from this and feel absolutely privileged to hear he's worthy of such trust.  I think he would want to imprint himself in your head as the best man and the best sex partner you will ever have – he would do his all to eradicate even the very thought of wanting to try others after him. Again, an ego thing, but also a desperate wish to please his partner and make them feel safe. This man screams service top to me. I think Simon has a wild side – not mean, just wild, as in he might be into rough sex and certain types of kinky stuff every now and then but only if his partner is willing. He would be very gentle and considerate (passionate as hell though), knowing you're inexperienced, he would make you feel as safe as possible and wait until you were ready and willing to explore things further.  Also, I can't help but be moved by what you told me in this message. I understand where you're coming from with these "is there something wrong with me" thoughts, because gosh, I feel you! And speaking from experience… it's 110 % worth it to wait for the right person to come along! Sex can be awesome, mind-blowing, one of the best things – with the right partner. Not worth it with just whomever, imho. Stay safe and trust yourself! And I hope you like this short drabble I made for Ghost x Virgin!Reader ❤️❤️❤️ much love 😘

Simon Riley was a one of a kind man. 

He put every guy on every dating app to shame, and not just with his size. He was manly, in a word, even if you never knew you wanted such an overly masculine man. At least, not until you met him. 

Simon was not only sturdy and mature – he was armed with calm rage and dark humor. Just one look in his eyes told you he was not the life of the party. Actually, he was Death himself: one of those four horsemen that heralded the Apocalypse.

Perhaps unintelligibly, the same man was also extremely considerate. A true gentleman if there ever was one. He always placed you and your needs first. But underneath the calm, cynical surface you sensed fierce intensity: fire and smoke, something that screamed Danger, high voltage.

And you could not keep away. Quite the opposite, really. The combination of a wildfire and a tornado roaring upon this solid bedrock of a man was simply alluring.

Things had gone a little too far without you meaning them to. You were not a woman of one night stands, actually, you had never had a stand. But Simon changed that, too. Because now you were thinking about sleeping with him. 

After years and years of waiting for someone sensible to come along, you had begun to lose hope, especially when people seemed to fuck left and right while you wanted something real.

A bedrock. 

With that wildfire. Perhaps a tornado thrown in as well.

After weeks and weeks of flirting, the man asked you out, and after weeks and weeks of going out, you came to the conclusion that if someone deserved to be your first, it was Simon Riley. If there was any guy you wished would take you against a wall until you begged for mercy, it was him. At least in your fantasies, which were starting to get out of hand.

In real life, things were not that breezy.

Because what would he say if – no, when – you told him you were a virgin at this age? What if he would be bothered, what if things would get awkward between you two? 

What if he decided you were simply too much trouble than you were worth? 

It seemed like a miracle that the guy was still around, having been left blue-balled date after date. Either he was hellbent on conquering you, or then… Well, you didn't even dare to think about or's and then's and what if's. Especially when your own feelings were getting equally out of hand as those fantasies.

He probably had plenty of experience, and the thought certainly didn't make you feel any better. How would you compare, being not only inexperienced but a whole goddamn virgin? And it would probably hurt on top of everything. This man must be pretty damn big downstairs if 6 '4 feet and large hands were any indication.

Still, all fears flew out the window in record time every time he pulled you into a kiss. Your body molded into his already: the broad shoulders closed in around you, and it only felt thrilling. His warmth, his arms and scent enveloped you like the sweetest prison, and you held onto him as tightly as you could. Not because he wasn't clutching you with the same–if not greater–fervor, but because you wanted to make sure he was real.

And you realized what the allure of Simon Riley was. 

He felt safe.

In fact, he was safe. He represented safety in all its aspects. 

Who would've thought that death and wildfire could feel so good, so reliable?

You wondered if he thought this was some game; that you kept him waiting. The unwritten rule seemed to be that it was ok not to jump into bed on the first date. If anything, it was only a decent move. But what did the rules say about the second, third or fourth date? Not to talk about tenth? 

Things were starting to resemble some prudent high school romance. Well, perhaps not prudent, the way you two practically ground against each other while making out after every date. Without being vocal about it or pressuring you in any way, you could tell he wished for things to go further. Hell, every fiber in this man begged for more. He would soon burn your clothes off simply with that searing gaze alone. 

Watching the door close on that heated stare after at least 15 minutes of wanton, wicked kissing followed by clumsy Good night's and shy, apologetic smiles just wouldn't do anymore. The poor man was left breathless and puzzled in the cold night with nothing but a hard-on and the crumbs you gave him to keep him warm. 

Things were getting ridiculous, criminally so, and you felt pity for those pants trying to keep him in confinement. You felt pity for your own soaked underwear as you climbed to a lonely bed all hot, bothered, and wet.

Which was why this evening would end with you asking him to come inside. 

.  .  .

Lately, his hands have started to roam; they even cup your ass as he moans in your mouth – and hearing that raspy, low sound leave him forces the final decision. It's the final prophecy that tells you he is the one. You should’ve known it was only a matter of time with him.

The man hides his surprise well as you invite him in.

"Thought you'd never ask," he gives you a soft chuckle before stepping over the threshold to not only your apartment but also your life and privacy. 

You barely get out of your shoes before his shadow engulfs you and strong hands lift you in his lap like you weigh nothing at all. You instinctively reach for support by clasping your hands behind his neck. 

"You really know how to torture a man, don't you?" The brown in his eyes is nearly swallowed by warm darkness as he carries you to the bedroom. 

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and he gives a short laugh of gravel.

"Don't be. This has been fun." 

He sets you down next to the bed, and your heart is thumping so bad you fear he can hear it banging against your chest. 

"But it's about time I torture you, right?"

Oh God…

Things happen so fast that it’s hard to tell who undresses who, but somehow, you find yourself standing in your bedroom with nothing but knickers and a bra on while he's taking off his pants. The man has definitely waited for this to happen for god knows how long, and it only makes your stomach lurch.

He thinks you know what you're doing, your brain offers when it should know when it’s time to shut the hell up. You can see the generous bulge this man is packing, and while perhaps compelling to other women, to you, it mainly looks intimidating. Threatening, almost.

He doesn't take his boxers off, seeing you're just standing there like some statue, still in your underwear and almost shaking from thoughts running rampant. 

His form swallows you as he steps closer; wide hands slide up your arms, then draw you against him – against that demanding pulse that gets trapped between you two. Even through the black cloth, you can tell he's thick and big, just like you feared.

The man is blazing, and seems to have grown another foot in height as he towers over you with all that muscle. His shoulders are almost the size of your head, and you already know the hand that runs down your spine is experienced in crushing windpipes. It makes you breathe in shivers, and of course he notices something is wrong.

"Everything good?" He's eager and breathless, the erection pressing against you like a threat. He’s a man who has fashioned a weapon out of himself, so it shouldn't be a surprise that everything in him speaks violence.

"Yes," you try to assure him – a lousy lie only punctuated by the audible gulp that leaves your throat as you try to swallow your nerves back down.

"You afraid…?" 

"Just a little nervous," you tell him, a half confession.

"Mm. That makes two of us." 

He draws down into a kiss, the hands of a soldier and a killer nearly drawing you up from the ground as he pulls you close. You don't really buy his claim of being nervous too: you can feel how he throbs between you, heavy and impatient. 

Hesitantly, you reach to hug him as well, and you feel so small, so insignificant when wrapped around this… giant. The knowledge that you're about to be trapped under all this crushing weight leaves you both faint and needy. 

He’s a good kisser, but as he moves to devour your neck, you start to freeze from the middle.

"Alright… Come here."

He half carries, half lays you down on the bed, then crawls between your legs and changes his tactic a little. Gentle kisses are ghosted down your throat, and soon, he's at your breasts, soft as a whisper. But as he draws the fabric of your bra aside, your nipple is caught inside a hot, wet mouth, and the wildfire surges forth. There’s no way out from under him anytime soon, and you realize the colossal body is already spreading your thighs wide. 

The way he already looks so damn good there between your legs: big, the epitome of raw, masculine power… It's almost sinful that a man like him is here with a virgin. It's a whole new hell how he's kissing you gently as fuck while blazing like a bonfire about to engulf and devour you. You want to wrap your legs around his middle, attach yourself to him in any way you can, but your thighs are weak pudding. 

You feel both lost and found with him. In him.

He sucks and kisses your breasts like they're the only thing he's here for – and it feels good, heavenly, to be honest. But then he starts to travel down.

Shit… You need to tell him – and soon, or else there will be no time to say anything before the last of the shielding fabric is gone.

"Simon…?"

"Mm-hm?" 

He doesn't even stop with the kissing, merely hums on your skin as his mouth reaches your stomach.

"You're my first," you finally force the truth into the night; a soft and desperate fact. It's only the faintest breath, but he halts abruptly like he has been stabbed between the ribs.

Great… 

Here comes the awkward.

He rises. Softly, slowly, like a shadow, just a second away from getting to what's between your legs.

"Is that so?"

His voice is hoarse and dark from arousal. The whole man is intoxicating, and your heart is hammering in your chest, both from hunger and dread.

"Yes…?" 

A broad hand comes to rest on the dip of your waist; gently, like you're some frightened animal about to dart off from under his touch. 

"Love… Are you sure you want to do this?"

Are you? You almost ask, then bite your lip.

He just called you love, something he has never done before. You can see your breasts rising with the breaths you try to calm down with sheer willpower. 

He lets out a small sigh, then crawls beside you and takes you in his arms. The bed sags and wails under his weight before your body is pulled into a delicious bear hug.

"Sweetheart."

His voice is so smooth, so different from the intense, rough smoke that has followed you up until this point that you feel vehement tears burn your eyes. First love, and now, sweetheart…

"There's no need to rush things," he says while keeping you close. Ever the gentleman, but you fear that you've ruined everything.

"We haven't exactly been rushing," you mutter somewhere in the plates of his chest. You both feel and hear how another sigh travels up his throat and is breathed into the crown of your head.

"Now… listen to me, ok? I've wanted you ever since we met. Can't deny it. But the last thing I want is to force you to do something you don’t wanna do."

You squeeze your eyes shut from what he says. Ever since you met… You can remember the lingering gazes, the way his eyes lit up with something hopeful and pure, how it drove away the exhaustion that seemed to have made a home in this big, brooding man. You remember how he stole a few stares up and down your body, too; remember the hunger he never even tried to conceal – not until now.

He is the most enthralling being you have ever seen, a mystery and a force of nature, an indomitable man, and to say that you haven't thought about him that way ever since too would be a lie.

"But I want it," you look up at him slowly, feeling much safer now that he's holding you like this.

I want you.

You realize you're pouting when the warm look in his eyes gains a playful glint as he laughs softly.

"You want it?"

"Yes."

That little twinkle turns into a downright gleam as he looks at you like you're the most adorable thing he has ever seen.

“You want it with me?”

“Yes.”

"How much do you want it?" The charred voice is so soft now: it washes over you in generous waves. His hands keep you in safe custody – and you're the most willing prisoner there ever has been.

"Pretty badly?" You breathe into the air between you and see the corner of his mouth tug.

"Well, in that case…" His hand sweeps down your back and comes to reside on the swell of your hip. "I'm glad I'm here to help."

Pale eyelashes drop to your lips just before he kisses you again. You arch in his arms, like a flower leaning towards sunlight; your mouth, your whole being unfurls under his leadership. He rolls partly on top of you, then moves to kiss you all over as you lie on your back: he kisses your chin and neck, your collarbones and the hollow little crevice between them. The hand on your hip brushes down your thigh, then back up, up, until his fingers meet the folds already soaked through the fabric of your underwear. 

His touch is soft, but gains more weight as he sweeps slowly up, then brushes a thumb over the exact location of your clit.

"Oh–" 

He knows what he's found, even without the evidence of your voiceless shake of a breath. He brushes another stroke over it, and it doesn't matter that you still have your undies on – you can feel his weight, the gentle pressure he applies as he draws a circle to usher another soft moan out of you.

"You like that?"

"Mhm," is the only thing you are able to answer.

"That's it…" he cheers you on with calm assurance. "Gonna make you feel good. And that's a promise."

You catch a hint of ego in that promise, but there's something else, too. A fervent devotion, a bottomless need to please you no matter what. The right man, definitely: not someone who is only after their own satisfaction. You don't exactly need the answer anymore, but you ask the final, burning question nonetheless.

"Simon?"

"Speak your mind, love."

"Are you disappointed…?"

He stops again, a breath away from you. 

"Disappointed?" He sounds quite shocked, almost appalled. "...Disa–"

He huffs, then reaches to cup your face. You raise your eyes to his and see that he's…ardent, and very, very serious.

"Love, I'm honored."

You can only blink at the solemn vow, and he slowly shakes his head.

"Silly little thing…" 

It's something he muses almost to himself before he drags his fingers over your sternum and down your stomach, reverently, like you're a piece of precious porcelain. But the heat in his eyes is back, and your fingers curl to grasp a fistful of sheet as his hand disappears underneath the cloth, when he finally touches you with nothing in between.

You suppose it's his middle finger that sweeps over your clit this time, then slips between your folds without effort. It coaxes your thighs open to give him better access, and access he has: he curls the finger until it almost dips inside. Your lips part with a quiet sigh as your chin climbs toward the ceiling.

"Look at that… All wet and sweet for me already."

The way you expose your neck is like an invitation: he buries his face in your neck, tries to drown in the scent and feel of you while gliding across the wetness down below. He spreads moisture on the tight bud, and you jerk a little from how sensitive it is – he huffs a smile in your ear. It makes you release the sheet and reach out to grasp him by the neck, to make him stay precisely where he is, close like this, so close…

"Do ya even know how bloody sweet you are?"

The last of your wits make a vanishing act as he breathes more praise on your skin. You're languid in his arms, feeling both weightless and heavy, like you're sinking into the mattress, and then his hand moves lower; one thick finger is plunged slowly inside. 

Oh God oh God–

You feel him, all of him, filling and spreading you. And it's not enough… not nearly enough.

"We'll take it nice and slow, alright?" He whispers in your ear, and you tighten around him like on command. "Got all night to make a mess of you. That sound good?"

You can't help it: your lips draw into a smile when thinking about all the things he will do to you, all the sweet things you've always waited to happen. 

"Yes."

[atyourmerci]

† Salvation †

Read pt.1 and pt.2

†

Summary: finale of repent series! Drabble of abby and readers life after abby comes to terms with her sexuality. Happy ever after lesbos<3

Warnings: smut, MDNI, switch!abby, switch!reader, religion play of course, strap usage, refers to strap as cock, cunnilingus, overstimulation, bondage, smnophilia, dirty talk yurrrr, some fluff

A/N: thank you so much for all of the love on this series!! Religious guilt/trauma is a tricky subject and I’m glad that I was able to portray it in a light that most of you could relate or sympathize with. And yall im so bad at writing fluff that’s why this is so short lmao that’s why I only write smut. I’m so excited to write through more niche experiences and topics. Love you like always<3

†

That night was nothing like the first. Your God showed mercy, wrapping your cold, shaky body with cloth and carrying you to where it all started.

This time she held you and never left, she was there was the sun came beaming down, drying out your soaked hair. While you were asleep she had removed her cross and strung it along your neck. Maybe there was no need hold a token of a god she had already met, maybe she wanted everyone else to know- you never cared to question her antics.

After your mission had ended she immediately broke things off with Owen, reclaimed herself within the community. And she for one took no shit with the commentary from anyone about the two of you. Her life mission was to protect you at all costs now, you were all she knew. She wouldn’t leave your side anymore. Anything you did she made sure she was there to protect you, she wouldn’t put your life in anyone else’s hands but her own.

There was a lot of things you had to teach Abby, and by teach, that meant showing her with your legs wide open. On a mission you both were sent out on to look for resources you ran across a run down sex shop. You found a girthy dildo with black leather straps, it was bigger than anything you’d ever taken but with the look of excitement on Abby’s face you couldn’t say no to her. You told her you could use it on her but she insisted on fucking you right there over the counter at the dusty sex shop. She wasted no time dragging your pants down to your ankles and ripping your panties seams to get inside, ”I’d tell you to suck my cock first but you’re so fucking wet already, how bad have you wanted this,hmmm?” She promised she’d go slow, walking you through it, “fuck you’re doing so good, taking me so well for your first time.” After your pain had been replaced with sheer pleasure she couldn’t hold back anymore, pumping into you so hard there was sure to be bruises all over your hips. After abusing your hole for an hour for her own amusement she finally let you cum while drawing circles around your swollen clit as she pounded deep and slow thrust into you. you were so cockdrunk she had to carry you back to the truck and finish the mission herself, it went by quickly as she imagined things she could do to you next with her cock.

She loved showering with you at night, she never let you lift a finger, washing your body gently after sneaking in the strap into the showers. Maybe it was because she learned how to fuck you in the showers that it made her so dominant in that environment. She wouldn’t let you touch her in there even after you begged her while she pinned your arms against the wall, overstimulating your clit over and over again until she was done with you. After she’d run you a bath and hold your fragile body as she ran soapy strips up and down your bruised skin, making sure to kiss every inch so that never missed an atom of your being.

Abby only regressed back into her old ways when she let you take complete control. She’d let you tie her to the bed you shared edging her till she was in tears, babbling prayers to climax. You’d tie her cross necklace around her clit and tug on it while you used your tongue to fuck her dripping hole. You’d only let her cum after she got on her knees like a whore eating away at your cunt while you shamed her for her sins.

Your life with abby wasn’t like anything you’d ever experienced before, but there was no before her, or after her. There was only your god, and hers.

Maybe she had still repented for her sins, maybe she had reached salvation at the mercy of your own sins.

Taglist: @wishbones999 @bookpagecandlescent @littlegingerperson2 @lanafresitas @lookforthelight1 @fict1onallyobsessed

[snookienthusi4st]

OMGGG SO I SAW YOUR HCS ABOUT KYOYA AND I HAD TO ASK ONE TOO. Can your write a Kyoya x reader ( the reader is a commoner like Haruhi ) AND LIKE KYOYA SPOILS HER ??AND FELL IN LOVE WITH HER LIKE WHEN HARUHI INTRODUCE HER TO THE CLUB . Maybe fluff . TYSM ILY🤍🤍🤍

this req is so cute wtf, watch me lock in and do hcs PLUS drabbles :3

kyoya x commoner fem! reader hcs

warnings: none, just language like always

no nsfw under the cut, just suggestive

• safe to say you two definitely met through haruhi

• haruhi’s a close friend of yours and she invites you to come and take a look at the club after school

• since you guys wanna spend more time together but school + work gets both of you busy

• so when you come in with haruhi who’s normally by herself and assumed to not have a social life outside of the host club, nothing short of chaos ensues

• i pity you if you have a short social battery bc you’re gonna be pulled in every which way by our fav short tempered blondie!

• you get to meet tamaki first obvi, given he’s usually the first one to meet haruhi at the door most days anyways

• he’s super cliche in a good way, greeting you happily and telling you how pretty your name sounds

• and then haruhi eventually swats his ass off the both of you and walks you further in to take your first look around

~

your shoes click against the floor as your hand remains lightly holding hers, your eyes wandering around the room as she guides you through it. “you never told me how pretty this place was, haruhi,” you murmur, your gaze still shifting to different spaces.

she scoffs softly, but there’s no malice in her voice with her next words. “it’s less exciting after you’ve gotten used to it, but i’m happy you like it,” she replies sincerely, tilting her head slightly to watch your expression as you look around.

~

• for plot’s sake, you know everyone by name already and like their upbringing/family because haruhi’s been keeping you up to speed

• so today was just a matter of seeing everyone’s faces for the first time and getting to meet them in person

• after a while you and haruhi get some tea and find somewhere to sit, just chatting and enjoying each other’s company

• and he’s walking around and making sure the guests are pleased like tamaki and the other hosts are, and that’s how you end up meeting each other

• he was charming as always, it wasn’t a surprise you fell for him

~

“so which twin ended up being pink?” you ask with a smile, earning a stunted chuckle from haruhi as she finishes her tea. “your guess is good as mine.”

“you all seem to make a surprisingly good team, considering your unorganized ‘king of the host club,’” you mutter teasingly, taking another sip of your tea. “i’d say the same,” she agrees, “but i’d say some hosts take care of things better than others.”

another set of shoes is heard against the floor, and haruhi seems to recognize the pair. she looks to the right of you, and you tilt your head to follow her gaze. your eyes soften. he’s gorgeous.

“speaking of which,” haruhi continues, as he moves to stand beside you two’s shared table. “have i introduced you to kyoya yet?”

“ootori?” you confirm quietly, your voice died down from an awe of some kind. he seems to notice and a ghost of a smirk is on his face as he nods.

“i’ve heard your family spoken of highly,” you say politely, lifting your hand out for him to shake. “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

he eyes your hand for a moment, his gaze a bit softer from your words as he takes it and kisses the back of it, haruhi’s eyes just barely widening at the rare sight. his response is a quiet mumble against your hand before he lets go. “likewise.”

~

• it’s easy to tell he likes you

• he’s not usually very affectionate with guests unless he knows it’s needed to satisfy them

• he talks with haruhi about like budgets and things for a quick second and then goes back to work

• but he can’t stop thinking about you

• so naturally he wants to see you again, and drops like crazy subtle hints to haruhi that she’s allowed to bring around her friends

• and our lovely haruhi takes the bait and brings you back around, and slowly it becomes a common occurrence

• you’d meet up with her after school and you’d walk to music room 3 together, and you’d catch up with her or help each other study while the other hosts paid you two sporadic visits

• except kyo, he’d make an effort to come see you everytime

• this goes on for a couple months

• and after a while you started catching on because the man is not as sneaky as he thinks he is

• so naturally you end up asking him out one day while haruhi’s away and hosting

~

“ootori?”

he looks up from his laptop and meets your eyes, a silent sign for you to continue talking. “is it hard developing romantic feelings for people as a host?”

he hums in contemplation and shakes his head. “i’d say it’s about the same, considering this is nothing more than a job for me,” he murmurs truthfully, a slight smirk brimming on his face as he adds, “why do you ask? are you falling for a host?”

you shrug. “maybe. but it’s hard to tell if i should do anything about it.”

“and why’s that?”

“hosting is nothing more than a job for them,” you retort softly, a hint of a smile on your face as you look back down at the paper you’re working on. he’s silent for a moment as he takes in your words, before his collected facade transitions into something softer.

“and how would you feel if you were their one exception?” he inquires nonchalantly, his confession making your eyes widen slightly as you look back up at him.

“i think you should kiss me,” you ask bluntly, your words tentative but genuine. you don’t have to ask him twice, and it’s light and careful but his lips meet yours and his free hand moves to the back of your head to gently hold you still.

there’s a calmer look on his face that mirrors yours once he pulls away, his words soft and clear and almost teasing. “i think you should start calling me by my first name.”

you don’t fight the widening of your tiny smile and nod in understanding, gently pulling him in by his uniform collar for another kiss. he leans into and returns it, and it’s right now that he realizes he’s never gonna get enough of you.

~

[cieloclercs]

grace , send me a trope + a character and i’ll write a short drabble from it

hii, can i please request best friends to lovers with ollie?

congrats on 1k btwww 🫶🫶

call me cupid — ollie bearman

pairing. ollie bearman x best friend!reader

word count. 2.7k (i swear i tried to make it short lmao)

warnings. kind of a weird fusion of fluff and angst ??? unrequited love vibes (that’s not actually unrequited but u get what i mean), pining ollie, pining reader, arthur lowkey is the mastermind, and is also sick of said pining, abrupt ending i’m sorry 😭

author’s note. hello anon! thank you so much for your request ☺️ i hope this is ok ! i know it cuts off quite abruptly, but i’d be open to writing a part 2 with the confession if you want one &lt;3

read below the cut

He’s staring again.

It’s becoming a problem, but can anyone really blame him? You look nothing short of angelic under the strobe lights, your shimmering dress catching his eye every time you move. You’re dancing with a girl he doesn’t recognise, that beautiful smile he adores stretched across your crimson-painted lips. It makes him wonder what she’s saying to you to make you seem so content.

Best friends shouldn’t look at each other the way he’s looking at you now. Ollie knows that. Yet on days like today, he really can’t help it. This is your party, celebrating your third Formula 2 victory in a row. He’d watched from way back in P5 as you stormed through the field, fighting off every challenge your opponents tried to throw your way. There’s a reason the fans call you the Queen of Formula 2, after all. You’re practically untouchable. All it does is heighten his awareness of his own pounding heart whenever you’re around; turn his insides to velvet when you so much as smile his way. Yes, it’s becoming a problem — and Ollie isn’t sure there’s anything he can do to stop it.

“You know, I’ve just thought of something you should try.” A voice speaks up to his left, breaking him out of whatever trance you’ve unwittingly put him under. He turns. Arthur Leclerc stands like the devil on his shoulder, arms folded, expression unimpressed. When Ollie says nothing, he goes on, “It’s called talking to her. Works wonders, really, I’d highly recommend. It’s how I met Carla.”

The younger of the two rolls his eyes. Arthur is the only other living soul on earth who knows about his infatuation with you — officially, at least. In reality, almost everyone in the Ferrari Academy has long since figured it out. Everyone except you, ironically. But Ollie supposes it makes sense; why would someone like you ever even consider him as something more than just a friend?

“Can we not do this tonight?” Ollie sighs, exasperated, “I’m just trying to forget about…all of that for a moment.”

This time it’s Arthur who rolls his eyes. Ever since he first caught on to his friend’s crush on you a little over eight months ago, he’s been trying every method under the sun to try and make him see that maybe, just maybe, he shouldn’t be so pessimistic about his chances. But the answer is always the same. Ollie remains convinced, like some poor, naïve, completely oblivious child, that you’d never so much as give him a second glance if he told you how he felt. It’s complete bullshit, of course. Arthur has seen the way your eyes search immediately for his after a race, be it a good result or even a bad one. He’s watched you brush off close friends (including him, many a time) even family members, to get to Ollie. But of course, Ollie himself doesn’t notice. No fool in love ever does.

“You’re not going to forget though, are you?” Arthur muses, glancing at his friend out of the corner of his eye, “I know you, and I know you can’t stay away from her for that long. You’ll cave eventually.” he smirks. At the sight of Ollie’s pink cheeks, he knows he’s caught him out.

“Why don’t you go annoy someone else for a change?” the Brit grumbles. There’s the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Arthur could pick it out even in the pitch dark.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love me.” he teases.

Within moments he’s cowered behind Carla on the other side of the room, chased away by Ollie’s (half joking) threats to crash him out of the next race on purpose if he doesn’t shut his mouth. But Arthur’s words stick with him throughout the entire night. Somehow, they always do.

In truth, Ollie's been grappling with the idea of telling you for quite a while; to put him out of his own misery more than anything else. He's sick and tired of the 'best friends' label. It seems so trivial, so reductive to say that it hurts him, when in fact, every time you refer to him as such, he’s sure you must be ripping his heart out of his chest. But then he can’t help but feel melodramatic — at least he has you, even if only as a friend. Even if you don’t love him in the way he loves you, you’re still there. Close, though perhaps not quite close enough. Ollie has decided not to take that for granted. He knows how easily it can be snatched away from him.

In the end (just as he always seems to be) Arthur is right — it’s not even an hour before he finds himself gravitating towards you; unwittingly being pulled into your orbit from which he fears, if he’s not careful, he’ll never be able to escape. You’re hovering on the edge of a group of engineers now, sipping on a glass of sparkling water out of a straw. How you can appear drop dead gorgeous yet so damn adorable at the same time, he has no idea. Ollie feels he’ll be spending the rest of his life trying to figure you and your many layers out.

“Hi, Ol.” you greet him with a smile like the sun when he finally plucks up the courage to approach. He mutters something in reply, though as soon as the words have left his mouth he’s already forgotten them — he could have said something completely unintelligible for all he knows. That’s the effect you have on him.

“Having fun?” you prompt again, your soft smile spreading into a full-blown grin. Ollie glances briefly around the room. It’s absolutely packed full of Ferrari Academy members, both drivers and personnel. Normally, this kind of event would be his worst nightmare. Even if he’s known these people for years, the idea of having to socialise and look like he’s having fun makes him feel sick. But then he remembers all this is for you. It’s to celebrate your achievements in a male dominated field, which no woman has ever managed to do before. When he reminds himself of that, all his anxiety suddenly seems to melt away.

“Of course.” Ollie grins back. His heart soars to see you light up at his words, to see you giggle behind the rim of your glass and look at him as if he’s the only person in the world. At times like this he can truly believe that maybe Arthur is right — maybe, if he confesses, his world won’t come crashing down. Maybe you’ll light it up for the better.

“What happened to you at turn one? Nic told me you dropped out of the points." you go on, eyebrows furrowing with the remnants of confusion. Ollie had begun the feature race in P2 behind you, yet you'd find that the competition you'd so anticipated disappeared not even before the first lap had ended. The Brit sighs, shaking his head.

"I collided with Jack trying to defend." he tells you with a wince, "Damaged my sidepods."

Your expression twists into one of sympathy. There's almost no coming back from that, even for a driver as talented as Ollie. Still, you think, to climb back up to P5 after sustaining damage like that is no mean feat. You don't miss the way he flushes bashfully when you tell him as such.

"It was my own fault." he mumbles, trying desperately to cool the flames in his cheeks as you watch him, eyebrows raised. He always feels like he's been put under a microscope when you look at him like this. There's no escaping the calculation in your stare, the curious scrutiny. "I took too much of a risk."

You shake your head. There's the tiniest of knowing smiles on your lips. Ollie is always so hard on himself. It's something you both admire him for, and find yourself exasperated with; he never seems to be able to see how brilliant he really is -- or at least, how brilliant he is in your eyes.

"Well, whoever was at fault, it's a real shame." you dismiss with a wave of your hand, "I miss sharing the podium with you."

Ollie is sure he must be melting. He can't figure out if it's from your words alone, or from the tiny pout that's fallen on your lips, or even the soft glint in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Suddenly the proximity between the two of you seems to have all but diminished. He chuckles nervously.

"Next race will be ours." the Brit murmurs. Little by little you inch closer to him, your hand resting on the ledge you're leaning on, just ghosting over where his own lays flat. He breathes in sharply.

"Promise?" you whisper. The point of your heel bumps against his foot. Ollie glances down at it in a panic, before his head snaps up to meet your piercing gaze. He fears that if he rocks forwards only the slightest bit on the balls of his feet, he'll be close enough for his nose to bump yours. He's never felt so consumed, so intoxicated by another person in all his life. He can smell the honey scent of your hair, feel your warm breath tickling his cheek. His gaze flickers down for the briefest of moments to your lips - soft and pink, parted as if there's something else you want to say, but the words have gotten trapped in your throat.

"I promise." Ollie croaks.

Just one more step, you think. One more step, and he'll kiss you. He's so close, closer than he's ever been before, and suddenly you can see everything falling into place: all the nights spent crying on Arthur's shoulder, wondering whether Ollie is truly just scared as your friend says he is, or whether he simply doesn't feel the same. It will all fade into a distant, long-abandoned memory. Finally, you'll be able to call him something more than just your best friend.

But then he steps away.

You flinch, taken aback at his sudden movement. Ollie stares at you, wide-eyed, breathing heavily as if he's just run a marathon. He can't believe what's just happened — can't believe he was about to kiss you. How could he be so stupid?

"I —" he stammers. The look on your face is hard to decipher: shocked, confused, hurt. If Ollie looked a bit closer, he'd be able to see the last of those emotions, or the way your shock is mixed with a horrible sinking feeling of disappointment. But, of course, he doesn't see it that way. He's stuck on the same, poisonous idea that's been plaguing his mind ever since he first figured out his feelings — you don't feel the same way.

"I'm sorry." Ollie gasps. Then, without another word, he turns on his heel and runs, leaving you stood alone, arms half outstretched as if to try and stop him. You're too late, of course. Within moments he's out of sight. Gone, just like your hope.

"Well that was a train wreck." a familiar voice speaks up from somewhere on your left. You spin around, groaning as you spot Arthur, arms folded, eyebrows furrowed in what you can only imagine is frustration.

"You don't say." you drawl bitterly, glaring down into your empty glass. Wordlessly, your friend passes you his own half-full one. You lean down to sniff at its contents, and pull away, nose scrunched in distaste — definitely not water. But you think, at this point, you're owed some kind of distraction.

"Why does he keep running away from me?" you grumble. It's been months of this cat and mouse game now. Tonight is the closest you've ever got; the first time you've seen with your own eyes that Ollie does reciprocate your feelings. Yet it feels like for that step forward, all you've gone and done is taken another two back.

"Because he's an idiot." Arthur answers plainly. The Monégasque watches as you take a gulp of his drink, pulling a face at the burn in your throat, and wordlessly reaches forwards to take the glass back from your hands. He's grateful that you don't complain.

"Well I wish he'd stop." you mutter. As much as you're willing to wait for Ollie for as long as he needs, it's painful, having to go on loving him from a distance like this. Every time you lock eyes, the longing grows more intense. You're not sure how much longer you can take it.

"You know, you're just as bad as he is." Arthur speaks up. Once again, your head snaps towards him, eyes narrowing.

"What?"

"You heard me." the Monégasque says with a sigh, "Look, I want to help you, I really do, but you could make all of this so much easier for yourself if you just tell him how you feel."

And there it is. You can’t help but let out a bitter chuckle. It sounds so simple coming from Arthur’s mouth — so easy. God knows you’ve tried, time and time again, to be honest with Ollie about your feelings, to rip off the plaster in the hopes the pain of it won’t be too great; that he might just tell you he’s been trying to say the same thing all this time. But whenever you feel as if you might be ready, the words catch in your throat. You just can’t stomach them. It’s a kind of vulnerability you’ve never shown to anyone before, let alone someone who already means so much to you. At the end of the day, you’re still young. No matter how much you love Ollie now, the chances of him being the one are low.

At least, that’s what you’ve been trying to convince yourself. But a part of you knows already — there’s no one else on earth you’ll ever feel this way about. Young or not, it’s always going to be Ollie.

“I don’t know if I can take that risk, Arth.” you say quietly, “If Ollie and I — if we’re not meant to be together…isn’t it better just to have him, even as a friend, than risk losing him entirely?”

You’re honestly not sure which is the most painful: having to pretend that you don’t love him, or the idea of one day not having him at all. Yet, you still know which one you’d choose — even if it hurts like ripping your own heart out of your chest.

“Huh.” Arthur says, eyebrows furrowing again. There’s something different in his expression this time, though. It’s less frustration, more a spark. As if he’s realised something you and Ollie may not have just yet.

“What?” you ask. Suddenly, Arthur begins to smile. You watch him disbelievingly, none the wiser as to what on earth he has to be so happy about at the present moment. Then he’s laughing, shaking his head as if in mirthful despair.

“You really are soulmates.” the Monégasque snickers, watching almost gleefully as you grow even more confused.

“What?” you ask again. Part of you begins to wonder if Arthur has lost his mind — you wouldn’t blame him after the game he’s been playing: acting as some sort of secret go-between in the middle and your and Ollie’s back and forth self-doubts. But Arthur hasn’t lost the will to live with it all just yet. In fact, he thinks he’s finally figured out how to make the both of you see sense.

“He said the exact same thing to me.”

And with that, Arthur turns on his heel, leaving you stood alone, your mind racing. All this time you’ve been trying to play the long game; trying to anticipate what Ollie is thinking, when in reality, your thoughts are practically shared. You’re both afraid. More than you ever have been in your life. But for the first time you begin to think, perhaps fear doesn’t have to be the dividing factor.

“Why do you look so pleased with yourself?” Carla Brocker asks her boyfriend as he retakes his familiar position at her side, still grinning like a child who’s just been told Christmas is coming early. Arthur says nothing, merely tilting his head in the direction of where you stand motionless. It only takes a few moments for Carla to catch on. She turns to face her boyfriend again, mouth hanging open.

“You think you’ve got through to her?” she whispers urgently.

Once again, Arthur Leclerc grins proudly.

“Just call me Cupid.”

[withleeknow]

HAII! i’m so happy to hear you’re opening requests, your writing is incredible !!

if you remember my idea with the dancing, as you said a short thing, could you write something similar to that maybe?

if not, lee know and yn play truth or dare together one night, “do it, i dare” what happens is free for you to decide 😊

-🍓

devastate me.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: brother's best friend au, mutual pining, kinda fluffy?, kinda angsty?; tbh idek if this makes sense bc my apologies, i finished it at almost 3 in the morning in a delirious state of mind lol, unedited @.@ word count: 0.7k note: hi strawberry!! i chose to do the second one bc i wasn't sure if i could do your original justice with just a quick drabble, but i hope you like this one regardless!! merry christmas heheheh <;33

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation › masterlist › ko-fi

what is lee minho?

to many, he's wonderfully charming, handsome, insanely smart and funny to the point that it's almost annoying, because how on earth can someone have it all just like that? he's kind and sweet. honest and gentle. the perfect man.

to you, he's all of those things and more. much more.

he's the person that you've been in love with for as long as you can remember. the person whose name you will forever associate with the longing of first love. it's beautiful, but it's pain nonetheless.

he's forbidden fruit, the one you want the most but can't possibly have.

your brother's best friend.

but...

if that's the case, if he's off limits to you and you're off limits to him, then why does he have a hand on the wall next to your head, looming over your body with the intensity of a predator? why is he caging you between his arms in the middle of a hallway, at a party in a stranger's house, where anybody could walk by and see you? why are his hips pressed against yours, blurring a line that could be never uncrossed if you take that step? why is he leaning in until you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin, until your lips are brushing, so close and yet... so far away?

you know why, and it's possibly the worst thing that you could ever be aware of.

that as much as you're in love with him, he's in love with you too.

you feel it every time his eyes fall on you from across the room. every time his touch lingers on your skin from the simplest of interactions. every time he softens when you’re around. every time you’re alone together and he bites his tongue, swallowing down the words you wish he would say - the words you wish you could tell him yourself.

your voice comes out as a mere whisper. "what are you doing?"

maybe it's because you both have had something to drink. maybe it's just simply liquid courage.

“when are we going to stop pretending that there’s nothing going on between us?” he asks, voice dropping low, husky. it sounds a little vulnerable, just like you.

there’s no point in denying it. the truth is clear as day.

“we can’t,” you say.

“why not?”

“you know why.”

minho sighs, then clenches his jaw before he speaks next, frustration laced into every syllable. “i don’t care what anyone else thinks. i just want you.”

“min-���

“fuck,” he interrupts, leaning his forehead to rest against yours, his fingers holding onto your waist more tightly. “i love you.”

you place a hand on his chest, meaning to push him away but then you find his heartbeat under your palm instead, hammering against his chest like it wants to escape from his body.

in a split second of weakness, a split second where the logical part of your brain falters, your eyes flicker to his lips.

and minho, ever the sharp observer even in a state of mild inebriation, notices.

“do it,” he mutters, his words a stark contrast to the helpless tone that he says them with. “i dare you.”

a shaky inhale from you, an almost pleading look from him. even when he's practically begging you, he's handing you all control. to say no if that's what you really want. to leave and dismiss everything as just some stupid joke later on, and go back to revolving around each other in secret, like a couple of powerless fools.

your fingers grip his shirt, because goddamn, of course you want it. you've never wanted anything in your entire life more than you want him. you already have one foot in already, half a mind to blow it all the way to hell and deal with the fallout when the time comes.

you catch his eyes once more, and the sincerity in his galaxy shakes you to the core.

fuck it.

you pull him in, obliterating the gap.

i love you, but you’re telling him in a different way.

so, if someone were to ask you again: what is lee minho?

he’s a lot of things. charming, handsome, smart, funny. the person you love, the very one that you can’t have. the answer is pretty much the same.

but most of all, lee minho is devastating.

permanent taglist: @onlyycb97wife @starsandrqindrops @borahae-reads @abbiestearsricochet @cutiespaghetti @anthropologykpopmultistan @moonlinos

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 24.12.2023]

[messrmoonyy]

I recently found your writing and I can’t believe no one had requested tribbing with Tess. I’d love if you could write something just a drabble even? IT WOULD BE SO. SEXY. MESSR.

Tess Servopoulos x Reader

Wc- 1K | 18+

Navigation | Tess Masterlist

You didn’t know what had come over the both of you today. You’d been at it like rabbits, you’d actually lost count of how many times you’d actually had sex since that morning… or did it all just count as one really really long act? You didn’t care either way. You just couldn’t seem to get enough. And neither could she. Maybe it was because she had been gone for 3 days, stuck on work duty on the other side of the zone and not allowed to return home.

But she was home now. And you had both jumped each other the second she’d walked through that front door. And even now, god knows how many orgasms in, you were still grinding against her desperate for another.

And to your mild surprise she seemed to love it just as much.

Her breaths were escaping her in short quick puffs, fingers kneading at your flesh as your sweat slick bodies slid against each other.

Your oversensitive clit rubbing against hers in a way that made you see stars. You looked at her with lust filled eyes, as you hesitantly began to grind against her in a way that was a little more purposeful. Her mouth fell open slightly as your clit bumped hers, hands moving to grip your hips harshly. You knew it’d bruise. You hoped it’d bruise.

“Fuck, baby just like that ” She said encouragingly, her voice in that husky gravelly tone that would’ve soaked your underwear in a second. If you were wearing any that was. She used her hold on you to move you more into a rhythm she seemed to like, eyes fluttering closed for a moment. A high pitched moan escaped your throat, overwhelmed by how good it felt.

You begin to match her pace, moving your hips faster with the help of her hands. There was something about the way she was using you, guiding your hips to grind against her, using you to get herself over the edge. Which was something you didn’t get to see all that often. And you’d been granted the honour more than once today. And now you wanted to see her come. Wanted to see that face because of you, because you were pressed against her. Your wetness was mixing with hers in a way that caused an unbearable sense of possessiveness to flare up in your chest.

“ I wanna see you come ” you whimpered, breath quickening as you watched her “ please Tess. Please” a small smirk found its way onto her face and she was gripping at you tighter, increasing the pressure of your clits pressing together. The sounds alone were so lewd you could feel your cheeks burning, which was silly, but it was so… hot. You couldn’t tell where her wetness ended and yours began, could think of nothing other than the way her clit was grazing against yours. Your sensitive folds sliding against the other.

“ you look so good like this ” she said, voice breathless “ such a good girl for me huh? “ her praise made you tremble, even more so than you already were. Everything was sticky and hot, utter desperation filling the air.

She moved slightly, moving her hips a little differently in a way that made your vision blur.

“ oh fuck “ you gasped, white hot burning pleasure flashing through your veins as she pressed against your over sensitive clit in a new way.

You were throbbing against her, rutting against her like an animal in heat. She was gripping at you like her life depended on it, looking at you like she needed you to breathe. You could feel the pressure building, so unbelievably close.

“ close baby?” She asked, always able to read you like a book. She knew what every sound meant. Every look on your face “ gonna come for me yeah? “

“yes, yes ” You whimpered, eyes falling closed. You grabbed at her, nails digging into her sweaty skin in a way that must’ve heart. But she said nothing. Unintelligible nonsense was falling past your lips, your legs and hips were aching but you couldn’t stop “ Tess- Tess “

You forced your eyes open, needing to see her face, needing to look at her. Nothing in the world could compare, nothing would ever be able to beat the sight. Her eyes half lidded and filled with lust and desire for you. Her tits moving in a way that was almost hypnotic as she kept grinding against you. Her skin flushed, shiny. She was like a goddess before your eyes.

“ such a good girl for me “ she almost whispered, voice strained and breathy. She was close too. You pressed against her harder, moving faster, so unbelievably desperate.

Your movements grow more sloppy and she kept you at pace, practically moving your hips for you and you couldn’t hold it in any longer.

“ Tess. Gonna. Tess “ you whine as an orgasm crashes into you for the.. you didn’t even know what time it was now. Tess continued to work your hips against her, the lewd wet sounds increasing. You could feel it gushing out of you, mixing with Tess in a way no one else would ever get.

“ that’s my girl. So fuckin sexy like this “ Your clit throbbed against her, her hands still moving you until it was almost unbearable. But she was chasing her own orgasm now “ almost there- almost baby “ you whined and whimpered as your oversensitive clit brushed against hers, pushing her towards the same fate as yourself.

Suddenly her grip on you grew painful, a short moan escaping her lips and eyes screwing shut “ don’t stop baby- don’t “ Her body trembled as she came and you pushed through the overstimulation to grind yourself against her yourself, hips stuttering as you tried to prolong her orgasm as long as possible.

When her grip on you changed you knew she was done and you let yourself collapse against her, breathing heavily against her own quickly rising and falling chest.

“ holy shit “ you whispered, body going heavy with post orgasm bliss and exhaustion as she wrapped her arms around you.

“ yeah, holy shit “

[elsweetheart]

saw rin @coeurify write some roommate!abby so i decided to write some too cos i’m feeling #inspired

slutty!roommate!abby short fic / drabble below the cut 💋 minors dni & don’t ask for part 2

It’s not like you were dating. Just living together — roommates, that’s all it was. A shabby and cozy little apartment, tucked away in a nice enough area. There’d be a new problem each week— AC busted, closet door swinging off, flickering light bulb, and you were lucky enough to live with a 6ft blonde walking talking ‘Don’t call the plumber / electrician / whatever, I got it’ machine. Things worked out pretty well.

The two of you were close. Almost too close. Your friendship bordered on simmering sexual tension whilst always keeping it just respectful and distanced enough for neither of you to make a move. You liked to think she enjoyed it, keeping you just out of reach like this. She knew you wanted her, but where was the fun in giving in?

Abby got around. It was no rumour that she had a history of being the community strap, and whilst her crazy days had died off a little — you’d still be awoken once or twice a fortnight to the sound of a new girl with the same shrill moan, headboard thumping against the wall. All you could do was sulk, snuggle down further into your bed covers and will yourself to sleep with your stomach twisting in jealousy at the thought of Abby curled next to someone else for the night.

The two of you liked to have ‘bonding night’, you know — watch a movie, drink wine, eat snacks, sometimes a face mask would make an appearance. Abby had insisted on these nights when you’d first moved in together, so that the two of you could get to know eachother, and since then it had become a tradition every Friday night that the neither of you would miss for the world. Infact, it became such an important tradition that plans were often rescheduled around it, dates postponed, ubers cancelled. Just you, your good friend Abby, and a bottle of something pink and tangy.

“See, I’d let you pick the movie we watch more often but… everytime you do the movie sucks.” She was muffled by the popcorn stuffed into her cheek like a squirrel whilst she scrolled with the remote for an appropriate choice. Abby had real audacity to look this good tonight. She was spread out on the couch, greeny-grey tshirt so tight it was ridiculous, hair down and a little damp from her shower, black sweatpants on (and fuzzy socks, not relevant to her hotness but you couldn’t not mention them.) It took you a second to reply as you pulled your legs beneath you from your curled up position on the chair, subconsciously tucking yourself smaller.

“They don’t suck. You don’t give them a chance! You just talk over it the whole time and ramble about how bad it is.” You shrug defensively, not seeing the way her eyes flickered over to you and lingered with an adoring smile at the way your forehead scrunched and lips pushed forward in an irritable pout. She looked away when you glanced.

“Maybe they don’t suck but they’re always the same. Always a rom com with bad jokes and like 10 minute sex scenes. Is that why you like ‘em, perv?” She nudges you with her spread knee, jostling you which makes your eyes widen slightly — face prickly and hot.

“You think I only watch movies for the sex scenes? Get your mind out of the gutter.” You snicker, fingernails picking at the blanket because, no — it’s not the reason, but she didn’t have to bring that up.

“Hey, I’m not the one picking dirty movies.” Her voice drags in that flirty and sarcastic way that makes your thighs press together. She always did this. It was your thing, you could say. She winds you up, takes the conversation down a sexual route and you just sit there and take it, always scared to make a move. You just couldn’t bring yourself to, what if she was just making fun of you? You live together, if you misread things there was potential for some major awkwardness.

“If I wanted to watch something dirty I’d just… look at porn or something.” You try and combat her teasing, but it comes out stuttery and awkward and you still can’t look at it. Her smirk deepens, intrigue washing over her. You hear her put the remote down and the scrolling on screen halts as she gives you her full attention. Busying yourself to buy more time, you reach forward and take your wine glass — taking a long sip.

“What, ‘you telling me you don’t watch porn now?”

You turn a little, giving her a look. One that read as ‘you’re not seriously asking me that.’

“Do you?”

“I don’t have to. I have sex.”

You scoff, turning your body toward her now with a finger pointed ready to defend yourself.

“I have sex.”

“Oh yeah?” You hate the way she’s smiling and tilting her head.

“It’s just… been a while.”

She sighs casually, leaning back into her seat.

“Same, to be honest.”

“I literally heard some girl screaming your name like two weeks ago.” Your eyes are practically touching your brain from how hard they roll and she laughs cheekily with her tongue pinched between her teeth, a cute roll forming beneath her chin from the position of her head. Your stomach flips.

“Exactly, two weeks ago. I’m trying not to do that so much anymore. Sleep around. Gonna delete the dating apps.” She clarifies, a look of dignity in her expression as she announces this making you narrow your eyes sceptically.

“And why is this? Who is this new and improved Abby?”

Now it’s her turn to roll her eyes. “I dunno. Just don’t think I should anymore. Think I’d rather be having meaningful sex with one person now. You know, the type where you press your foreheads together and tell her you love her when you make her cum and stuff.” She just says it so casually, like it doesn’t make your stomach bottom out into your cunt at the thought of being that one person, whilst simultaneously making your heart stammer at the idea of the person being someone else.

“Y—yeah. Me too I suppose. That’s why I’m just waiting.”

You feel that your response is put together and mature enough for the conversation to come to a natural end so that you can continue bickering over what movie to watch before you embarrass yourself, but she stares at you anyway — contemplative and analytical.

“You’ve been waiting a while, huh?” Abby talks softer, sympathetic and her fingers that were resting along the back of the couch reach a little further and stroke your shoulder briefly. You can’t tell if it’s kind or patronising. Because of this you purse your lips with a shrug.

“Yeah. Haven’t had sex since my ex-girlfriend was still around so that’s…”

“A year and half.” She raises her brows and you mirror her, surprised at how fast she knew the answer. “You’d just broken up when you moved in here.”

“Oh… yeah, that’s right. I suppose that is a long time.”

She breathes out her nose, long and thoughtful before turning her body back to the TV. You do too, because you think it’s over — but the conversation is never quite over until Abby says so.

“Well, if you ever need your fix you know where my door is. You deserve to feel good too.”

She’s kidding, right?

Like, that’s not a serious offer. It can’t be. Because if it were you’d be on her bed sprawled out with two thick fingers up your cunt and not here on the couch getting wine drunk and horny. Your eyelashes are kissing your brow at how wide your stretch your eyes for a moment as you stare ahead, saying nothing. What do you say? How do you seize this glorious potential opportunity without coming across as totally desperate and ruining things? She is kidding, she has to be.

You open your mouth, maybe just to let out a meek ‘really?’ for some clarification, but she speaks again — totally ripped from the moment. “Why do I keep getting recommended only Lindsey Lohan movies? That’s you on my Netflix account right? I swear, I’ll change my password.” She chuckles, like she didn’t just offer to pity fuck you, and you weren’t just considering take her up on it. You shake yourself free of the moment and you don’t talk about it again.

Abby really did stop sleeping around, and you knew that from the lack of moans waking you up in the night. You could have been imagining things, but she’d gotten flirtier too. Wearing tighter fit clothes around her muscles, making sure to always squeeze behind you in the kitchen with her hands on your hips, chest practically to your back with a low ‘scuse me, sorry’ in your ear as she slips by, the lot of it. You felt you were running up the AC, constantly trying to fan yourself off after she worked you up. It was two fridays since she made the offer, and you decided now was the time you’d act on it. You poured yourself a glass of pink wine and waited on the couch, getting in a few gulps before she arrived for confidence.

You drank the whole glass, and she still hadn’t arrived home. Abby had never missed a ‘bonding night’ since moving in, and now she wasn’t showing up at all? No text, no apology, just total absence. You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed and pissed off, drinking half the bottle before curling into the couch and falling asleep.

You awoke to the sound of giggles and jangling keys, and your bleary eyes cracked open — flickering to the clock on the wall ticking quietly. 2:54AM. You were about to lift your head, sit up on the couch and call out for Abby, questioning where she’d been, why she missed bonding night. You were halted by the sound of two voices, only one belonging to your roommate.

“Shh, gotta be quiet or you’re gonna wake my roommate, baby. Rooms this way.” Abby, and the tottering sound of high heels behind her. You felt sick. Why did you feel so sick?

You close your eyes again when Abby’s bedroom door clicks shut, feeling your lashes grow damp as you pull a cushion over your head — trying to block the inevitable moans and will yourself back to sleep. This wasn’t the first time Abby had come home late after hanging out with friends and found you sleeping on the couch having wanted to hang out, but you’d usually atleast receive her hushed apologies as she lifts you and carries you bridal style to your own room where she’d leave you as you mutter a goodnight half awake to her. She’d never missed bonding night though, because that was off limits.

The next three days you avoided her. You felt more stupid the longer time passed, because you actually didn’t have much reason to be angry. Yes, she missed your Friday tradition but life happens, right? You were certain if it were you she’d be totally fine with it. But it would never be you, because you’d never miss it. It was a vicious thought cycle.

When you’d ignored her on the way out your door for work, she’d put it down to you not hearing her or maybe being in too much of a rush. When you’d come home, you’d spent the evening in your room, only emerging into the kitchen to heat up some noodles before retreating. She figured you were tired. When you’d shrugged her off the next day when she brought home your favourite type of chocolate — she knew something had to be up. She couldn’t work out if it was her, or you were just going through it at first, but when you’d snapped at her on day three — it became crystal clear.

“Can you stop fucking using my towel?” You emerge in the kitchen, and honestly — for the first second before she registers the anger, Abby is just relieved to hear your voice. She turns around from the counter slowly, sucking some salad dressing off her finger from her lunch she was preparing. You looked adorable — still damp, oversized pyjama t-shirt and sleep shorts, comical cartoony oversized slippers on your feet. Despite your appearance, your expression was as serious as ever, brow pinched in stress.

“Sorry.” She shrugs simply, because you’ve never had a problem with her borrowing your towel in all the time you’d lived together.

“Like, can I just come home and not have you all in my stuff?” You huff, going to walk away but she frowns, following you like a big buff lost puppy.

“Hey, hey? What is this? It’s just a towel.” She nearly whines, because why are you being like this? Your usual sweet soft self has gone grainy and abrasive on her and she didn’t like it. You were shutting her out.

“Whatever Abby, I’m just telling you.” You back down a little now, taking a few steps and she gently takes your arm in her large hand. She’s always gentle, aware of how much stronger she is than you.

“You’ve been off lately, you wanna talk about it? You know I’m here for you, right?”

You don’t look at her.

“Yeah, here for me and every other damn girl that walks through your door. Let me go.”

You don’t mean to say it, because God is it telling — you want the ground to swallow you up whole and you scrunch your face in embarrassment as you walk away, shoulders tense and face all hot. You were not this jealous, petty person. She missed your tradition, it was her fault.

Abby gave you your space for the rest of the day, and by evening you’d wound down — anger subsiding as you plonked down on the couch and curled up sulkily, just feeling humiliated and sad. You missed her.

You stared ahead when you heard her bedroom door click open, heavy slow footsteps approaching the living room along the smooth wooden floor. You don’t look, but you can see her standing there at the side, looking at you sadly, henley top and braid adorned.

“Hey.”

Her voice is smooth and low and warm like hot chocolate and you want to bathe in it. You pull the blanket over your thighs tighter over you.

“Hi.”

It was truly an honest mistake on Abby’s part. She’d woken up filled with regret (and a steaming hang over) beside the girl with lilac-y platinum hair, stretching and muttering out a ‘Happy friday’ to break the tension. The girl cracked open an eye with a tired smile and rasped “It’s Saturday, sleepyhead.” making Abby’s heart drop after a beat. Friday’s. They were your days. She was sure you wouldn’t mind missing one out though, you were always kind and gracious like that. The whole bonding night was Abby’s idea after all, it probably wasn’t all that important to you, right? She reassured herself before politely kicking out her bed-mate.

Abby slowly sits down on the couch beside you, and the weight in the room shifts like it always did when she’d join you. She held such a presence that the air would feel thicker and warmer the closer she got, almost to the point where it could be stifling. “I’m sorry I missed bonding night. Manny dragged me out to get drunk and I swear, I thought it was a Thursday—”

You cut her off, which surprised her.

“I thought you were done with bringing girls home.”

She’s silenced for a few seconds, staring at your profile. You’re beautiful even when you’re mad.

“Why does it matter?” It’s soft, like a whisper because she doesn’t want it to come off as defensive or rude like it potentially could do. She genuinely wants to know. Why were you so mad about it?

You were all tense and huffy when you reply and it makes Abby’s heart clench, just wanting to squeeze you.

“Because… because don’t offer something to someone if you don’t mean it. I’m not… I thought we… ugh, whatever. I’m not having this conversation.” You made a mental note to jump back online after this conversation and search for somewhere new to live.

Abby thinks back, and it doesn’t take her long to land on the thought of her telling you she’d be more than happy to take care of you if you needed some relief. Her shoulders relaxed in realisation and brow untensed, and she reached out to stroke a thumb along your arm, body twisted to you.

“Okay, I understand.” She soothes and you want to tear up, maybe in embarrassment or maybe from her tone of voice making you feel small and cared for. You attempt to hold off and fight the feeling. “I thought you weren’t interested. Thought I’d made it weird so I just figured… if I bring someone home things could be normal again. I dunno, it doesn’t make sense now I say it out loud.” She sighs, shaking her head with her eyes closed and brows raised at her own stupidity. You glance at her, shy and still hot-faced and look down at your lap. “Just tell me how you feel. I think… I want what you want. Just need to hear it, sweetheart.”

She can’t make you say it, not after the embarrassment you’ve already faced. So, you settle on another complaint to tell your story. “You don’t know how hard it is… being so pent up and just hearing you… hearing them get to enjoy… you. I wanna feel like that.” You feel pathetic, but your stomach curls anyway at the feeling of her coarse hand sliding up your arm and shoulder to cup the back of your neck, aiding you in looking at her.

“Yeah? I’m sorry. I think you just feel… left out.” She cooes and you preen into her touch, shifting in your seat a little. You say nothing, just let out a little air from your nose. She shuffles closer to you, bringing her warmth. “You forgive me yet? You want me to help you forgive me?” Her other hand fiddles with the blanket on your lap for permission to slide it away, and she’s so close now that you can sigh and lean your head on her strong shoulder, nodding silently. She pulls away the pink fluffy cover up and rests a hand on your bare thigh.

“You know I’d never miss bonding night. ‘D never neglect you on purpose. You’re still my number one, yeah?” She strokes the skin upwards, constantly craning her head down to look at you, watchful of your expression. “I didn’t know you wanted this, sweet girl. I would have taken care of you like you need ages ago if I knew.”

She drops a kiss to your temple and you shudder, your own arm wrapping around her strong bicep to cling to it as your thighs fall open wider. “Yeah? Can I?” She’s quiet and gentle, and you whimper when she cups your hot cunt through flimsy pyjama shorts.

She rubs a sloppy circle over the material and you whine, the sound of wetness already present from your quantity, filling the quiet room. She’d barely touched you, and you were already soaked — it was astounding. “God, you are pent up aren’t you? I’m sorry.” She chuckles in a sympathetic way, free hand coming to smooth down your furrowed brow. Abby stares you down when she slips your thin shorts to the side, fingers slipping and sliding through your drenched folds to circle your clit making you moan softly. “I know.” She hums, eyes on your lips. “You want a kiss? Will that help?”

You can’t talk, so you just nod and she brings you in whilst she languidly rubs your clit, gently sucking on your bottom lip and pressing pecks to it before finally rolling her tongue over yours. With this, she’s pressing a middle finger against your hole and easing it inside, curling up to press against your tight upper wall. You cry out a little against her mouth and she shushes you. “There you go, so fucking tight huh? S’been that long?” She grinds the ball of her hand against your clit and you hump against it, the waistband of your shorts hugging her wrist as the shape of her hand moves up and down.

“Just—needed this.” You struggle, your warm breath heating her lips making her lick over them.

“I know. Gotta use your words next time, let me know yeah? If you said the word I wouldn’t have been sleeping around.” She presses a kiss to the centre of your forehead, lips lingering there as you let out a string of moans and embarrassed pants at the sound of your own wetness against her finger. She slides in another, stretching you.

“Not gonna last long. S’been too long.” You cry and she nods, free hand sliding beneath your lower back when you arch it off the couch.

“I know. S’okay baby.”

When you cum, Abby presses her forehead to yours.

[ken-dom]

Ken Can't Do Flips But He Sure Can Strip

Ken x gn!reader

Prompt: Ken stripping for you would be fun to watch

Author's notes: Ahhh wouldn't this be SO much fun and the hottest thing to witness? I'm not even doing requests right now but I HAD to write a drabble inspired by this one 🫶 the urge to add 'by Fall Out Boy' to the end of the title was overwhelming

Also, I thought it would be cute if this is the song he’s stripping to:

Warnings/content: NSFW, gn!reader, stripping, slightly messy blow job, sub!Ken, praise, silly Ken moments, Ken’s glittery cum 💖

‘I’d love to see you strip for me,’ you coo seductively, caressing Ken’s strong, chiselled arms as you cuddle lazily in bed and he gazes at you.

‘Yeah, I can do that!’ Ken agrees eagerly, but just as quickly as he volunteered, deep thought spreads across his face and furrows his brow. ‘Um… how do I actually… do a strip?’

You chuckle softly, pressing your lips affectionately to his shoulder and grabbing your phone to search for an example to show him.

Ken watches with curiosity as you turned the screen to him, and his sparkling eyes widen as he takes it all in.

‘Wow,’ Ken breathes, ‘that’s kind of… sexy...’

He's unsure of saying that word. He almost whispers it. You call him sexy a lot, but it feels foreign out of his mouth. Yet it’s the only word he can think of to describe the way the video makes him feel; a buzz of excitement and a surge of determination with a quite overwhelming wave of… attraction?

‘Yeah. I can do that for you,’ he says with certainty, as though he’s been given the most important job of his life.

***

An hour later, after some requested alone time to ‘get his routine together,’ you’re beckoned back to the bedroom by a slightly skittish Ken to sit on the bed, where he stands before you, takes a deep breath, and starts the music.

He rolls his hips, hypnotising you with the undulations as he runs his hands over his partially clothed torso, teasing a reveal of his pecs before moving a finger to drag down your chest. It leaves tingles in it's wake, the music becoming a distant blur of sound.

You’re so lost in a haze of anticipation, you almost fail to notice that he’s such a fast learner. There are moves thrown into his routine that weren’t even in the short (and fairly tame) clip you’d shown him, and you wonder if he made them up himself or if he googled How to do a strip?

You smile at the thought, but don’t wonder about it for too long because the sight before you is just too gorgeous to focus on anything else.

Ken is so turned on too that it’s increasingly hard not to reach out and pull him to you, but you want him to at least finish the song and see where he’s taking this. It's far too fascinating, far too exciting, far too hot to bring this rollercoaster of anticipation to an end just yet.

He bites his lip, concentrating endearingly hard on thrusting his hard cock in your face, and you can’t decide whether it’s cute or hot or both.

Definitely both.

Heat pools at your core as you watch him move, flexing his muscles and snapping his hips, a light sheen of glimmering sweat forming over his tanned skin - most of which has been revealed to you by now - while the rest of his clothes discarded on the floor behind him.

You shift in your seat on the edge of the bed, aching to touch that perfect plastic chest, maybe move your hand lower to tease, ending in you being stuffed full of him while he moves his hips just the way he’s doing it right now...

Thankfully, the song’s almost over and when he thrust his hips in the air one last time to rip his underwear clean off and end his little show, you couldn't wait a second longer to touch him and immediately take his throbbing, glistening cock into your mouth.

‘Oh! Ughhh-ahghh! Mhh!’

Ken steadies himself, large hands gripping your shoulders while his eyes roll back and his jaw drops to let our a sting of incomprehensible pleas mixed with desperate moaning.

He knows he can’t hold off. He's far too worked up about the whole striping thing and being sexy enough for you to focus on not cumming.

So he cums hard, whining as his knees buckle beneath him. You hold him up as best you can while your cheeks hollow around his length and he fills your mouth so fast that his shimmering cum dribbles out onto your chin, while you try to catch every drop of that gorgeous, glittery slick that you can.

You swallow down what you can of his seed and wipe your face, the pink glitter spreading over the back of your hand, as he collapses onto the bed beside you, face down and unmoving all but for his heaving chest for a moment.

‘You did such a good job for me… such a talented Ken.’

‘I… couldn’t… last,’ he whines, pained, eyes shutting tight in shame as you encourage him to turn and face you.

‘Oh but you needed to cum, didn't you, baby?’ you soothe, stroking his cheek as he cautiously opens one eye to dare look at you. ‘And you deserved it after putting on such pretty display just for me. You did such a good job.’

He whimpers, nodding as his his fingers fumble at your clothes. ‘Need to touch you-’

‘There’s time for that,’ you whisper, laying back and snuggling into him with a mischievous grin. ‘Maybe I’ll strip for you...’ you tease.

Ken’s head drops back down hard and a feeble sound escapes on his sudden exhale of breath. You never thought you'd witness an actual swoon.

‘Then that’s decided,’ you giggle, pulling him close.

[wildfloweroutlaw]

Protective and Proud

~~~~~~~~~~

pairing: arthur morgan X female reader

drabble: arthur being protective

summary: when arthur and reader’s night is so rudely interrupted, arthur has to show his protective side.

a/n: sorry for the short writing hiatus, school kicked my ass this semester. this was originally just meant to help me get back into the swing of writing, but i figured i’d share in case someone enjoys it :)

word count: 1,652 words

~~~~~~~~~~

You impatiently shifted from one foot to the other, back pressed against the wooden hitching post just outside the sheriff’s office. The sun had already started its decent below the mountains in the distance a while ago, leaving the street lamps to cast a soft yellow glow on the town of Valentine. A few people still meandered about in the street, but for the most part the town was empty. Save for the saloon of course, you often found yourself glancing that way to observe the drunken citizens coming in and out of the swinging saloon doors, laughter and music filtering out into otherwise quiet night.

You fished in your pocket for your watch, glancing down at the little hands that read 7:30. Arthur had told you to meet him here at 7 p.m sharp for a drink or two. You shoved the watch back into your pocket, sighing dramatically, though you urged yourself to be more patient. You can’t even blame the poor man for being late, you know he works himself half to death each day. Hell he probably hasn’t even had time to glance at his watch today. You pulled a cigarette out of the pack in your saddle bag, lighting it up. You absentmindedly stroked your horse’s neck as you puffed a cloud of smoke into the cool night air.

“Thought you was quitting?”, A gruff voice from behind you interrupted your thoughts.

The sudden intrusion made you jump slightly and you quickly turned to see your cowboy walking towards you, reins in hand and the usual smirk plastered to his handsome face.

“Yeah well… maybe next week.” You grinned with a shrug, cigarette dangling out of the corner of your mouth.

Arthur approached the hitching post, tying off his horse alongside yours. “You know…”, he reached forward, pulling the cigarette from your lips and placing them between his own, “these ain’t good for ya darling.”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you, and you were quick to close the gap between the two of you. You wrapped your arms around his thick torso, burying your face in his chest. “Missed you.”

Arthur’s hands snaked around your waist, one hand gently stroking your back. “I missed you too sweet heart. Sorry I was late, Marston had me running all over the county chasing some damn sheep.”

You released your grip on him, grinning at the obvious annoyance that laced his voice. “I’m scared to even ask.”

“I’ll tell ya about it over drinks, c’mon.” Arthur snuffed out the stolen cigarette and motioned towards the lively saloon. You happily made your way towards the commotion and the smell of liquor, Arthur following closely beside you.

Upon approaching the saloon doors, Arthur pushed one open and held it for you, allowing you to lead the way. The sudden turn of heads and lingering eyes from the men in the bar were not lost on him, far for it actually. Though you always seemed to either not notice or not care about the curious eyes of strangers, Arthur actually enjoyed it, he absolutely loved being seen with you.

Arthur knew you were so much more than just something pretty to hang on his arm. However, he couldn’t help but to love the feeling he got when he saw the way other men looked at the pair of you, though he’d never admit it. The way they oozed jealousy watching you dote over him, kiss on him, hell even just stand next to him, it was something he’d never experienced before. Arthur never thought there was much about himself to be proud of you. But you, you made him feel special. There was nothing he enjoyed more than to be able to boast about his claim on you. You were his and he was going to make damn sure everyone in here knew it.

Arthur placed a large rough hand upon the small of your back, keeping you close to him as he guided you towards the edge of the bar. He was quick to get the bar keeps attention, ordering you both a glass of whiskey. Arthur was happy to chatter a long with you while you both nursed your drinks. He’d barely seen you all week and was eager to catch up with his favorite girl.

Though the bar was loud, you were only focused on Arthur. The way he intently listened every time you spoke, the way he would often lean in closer just to hear you a bit better, the way his arm always found it’s way around your waist: he was perfect to you in every way. You leaned up to pepper a few kisses along his bearded jawline as he spoke. Suddenly remembering Arthur’s promise from earlier, you quickly pulled away.“Oh! Arthur the sheep! You never told me what the hell you were doing with the sheep.”

Arthur had never met anyone who took such an interest in him and his stories before. Perhaps that’s why he’s always been so taken with you, you seemed to be one of the only people in the world who wanted to know more about him.“Well, Marston had this bright idea, and that’s never a good thing…” he chuckled a little at his own joke, promoting you to roll your eyes. “He figured that we could make a pretty penny by-“

“Miss? ‘Scuse me miss!” An extremely intoxicated man stumbled his way beside you at the bar, much to close for your’s or Arthur’s liking.

“Yes?”, confused, you turned to face him. His face was red and his eyes glassy.

“Miss I-I couldn’t help but to notice you. I was just wondering if I could buy you a drink.” His words slightly slurred together and he propped one elbow up on the bar clumsily.

Still confused you glanced from the man to Arthur and back again. “I’m sorry mister but I’m spoken for.” You tried to be as polite as possible and you figured the man was just too drunk to notice you were there with Arthur.

“Spoken for by who?” The man dramatically studied the room.

You nodded up to Arthur who was standing protectively behind you, so close his chest almost pressed to your back.

“You see… that’s what I was a-suspectin’. But then I thought to myself there was jus’ no way a pretty woman like you’d be here with him.” The man leaned in a little closer to speak just to you, a devilish grin on his face.

You were quick to furrow your brow in confusion.

Arthur chuckled a bit behind you. “Alright buddy you’ve made your point. Now if ya don’t mind we’d like to enjoy the rest of our night”. Arthur did his best to keep it light hearted, but it was hard to disguise his dour tone.

The man made no indication he had heard what Arthur was saying, instead he proceeded to rake his eyes over you. “Miss… I will say, you’re even prettier up close.”

You felt Arthur’s arm around your waist tighten and his chest press into your back as he leaned slightly closer to this nuisance of a man.

“You got fuckin’ hearin’ problems or somethin’?” This time Arthur’s voice was a bit more stern and you could tell he was growing annoyed at the continuous interruption.

This time the guy glanced up at Arthur, but only for a second, for his gaze was back on you in an instant. “Look miss, you give me 5 good minutes and I’ll show you what you’re missing out on.”

Arthur pulled you behind him, positioning himself between you and the drunken bastard. “She said she was spoken for. Now are you gonna fuck off or am I gonna have to embarrass you in front of the lady?” Arthur nodded back to you.

His voice had deepened to that gravely tone he used in very few scenarios, and you found yourself growing a bit hot under the collar in response. You loved when he spoke like that, it damn near sent chills up your spine.

The man raised his hands defensively, “Alright alright… was just having some fun mister.” Deciding you weren’t worth the brawl that was sure ensure, he began to stalk off.

Arthur was quick to grab ahold of the man’s shoulder, pulling him back and glaring down at him. “You’re lucky I’m in a good mood fella. Come back over here and I will break your god damn jaw.” Arthur spoke low, attempting to shield you from his harsh words. He shoved the man on his way and turned to give his attention back to you. “Ya okay darlin?”

You heard it all, and the butterflies proceeded to flutter in your stomach. Seeing him so protective of you, it did things to you that you couldn’t explain. You nodded and turned to face the bar, attempting to hide the blush that had crept up on your face.

Arthur moved to stand behind you, arms on either side to cage you against the bar. “You sure do cause a lot of trouble y’know.” He teased, stooping to affectionally press a kiss to your temple. “Can’t take ya out nowhere.” Arthur smiled to himself. He was so proud to be a protector, and even prouder to have something as special as you to protect.

You knew Arthur was trying to be sweet, as he was always extremely sweet. However, the only thing you could think about was his deep timber voice, his willingness to fight for you, to kill for you, and of course his looming figure pressed up behind you. You tried not to dwell on the fact that there was a growing pressure between your legs, and instead pressed your glass to your lips and took a big swig. You cleared your throat awkwardly, “You uh- you still owe me a sheep story”.

[avastrasposts]

Frankie to the rescue

A Frankie Morales drabble inspired by @secretelephanttattoo who suggested that "Frankie welcomes you home after a long day of travel...."

Written in half an hour after a long day of travel so any mistakes should be ignored. Also, I had no suitable Frankie coded pic to use so if anyone has a suggestion, please link me and I'll update the post! Thanks to @secretelephanttattoo for finding the perfect pic in five seconds flat!

Word count: 690

(and what do you know, i can write short stuff too!)

You groan as you watch the conveyor belt slow down and come to a halt. Two bags remain, none of them yours. An eleven day business trip, a fourteen hour flight back home from Japan, delayed of course, and your luggage is a no-show. The lost luggage counter is mercifully open despite the late hour but it takes the bored attendant an extraordinarily long time to fill in your claim and give you a case number. Or maybe it just feels extraordinarily long when you’ve been on the go since you left your hotel in Tokyo over twenty four hours ago. All you want is to get home and take a long shower and sink down into your own bed, next to your own Frankie. 

Frankie…soft brown eyes, even softer brown curls, warm smile and large hands that always seem to find exactly the right spot on your body for whatever you need. He’s waiting at home, probably in bed already at this late hour, but you know he’ll wake up the second you put your key in the lock. He’ll come padding through the house in his boxers, let you shrug your coat off and then envelop you in his long arms. You know what he’ll smell like as you press your nose against the warm skin on his broad chest, clean cotton, rich wood and that apple scented fabric softener he always buys. 

You tuck the receipt for your poor lost luggage into your shoulder bag and start heading towards the exit. Passport control waves you through, thank god for your citizenship, customs is empty at this hour and you stagger, bleary eyed, into the arrivals hall. There should be a driver waiting for you, company perk, and you just hope he’s still there after the delay. But none of the waiting drivers in their neat uniforms hold a sign with your name and you groan again and pull up your phone to see if you can get an Uber. 

“Ma’am, your car is this way,” the man behind you bends unnecessarily close to your ear and you almost drop your phone. An arm comes out to steady you, hooking around your waist and pulling you close. You’re just about to shove him away with a shout when his warm eyes find yours, his patchy beard a little bit neater and trimmed since you left, lips already close to yours, half pulled up in a smile, ready to kiss you. 

“Frankie…” you sigh and his lips find yours, soft, warm and tender as they press against you, parting slightly to taste you under his tongue. It’s his long arms around your waist, one palm sliding up your back to hold you close against him as you wrap your own arms around his neck, finding those soft curls under the edge of his ball cap. 

“Vida mía,” he mumbles, pulling back a little to lean his forehead against yours, “I missed you so much, I told your PA I’d pick you up instead of the driver, couldn’t be away from you for a minute longer.” 

“I missed you too, Frankie, my love, so much,” you whisper, trying to take in all of him as the late night airport bustle fades around you. His hands are warm through your coat, his breath smells of cinnamon gum and coffee and his arms around your back hold you so tight that you’re on your toes, reaching up, melting into him. 

“Let me take you home, mi amor,” he slides his hand down and takes yours, “and show you how much I missed you.” His lips slip down from your lips, down over your jaw, the bill of his cap making you tilt your head to the side, exposing your neck to him. He nuzzles into the crook of it, his mouth tasting the warm skin, teeth biting just a little, making heat rush through you as soft moans slip out from your both. His fingers tighten his grip around your hand and he pulls away a little, tugging you with him towards his truck.. 

“Now,” he growls, his eyes suddenly dark and needy. 

[jakeotters]

Raymond Leon x Reader ask? Leon doesn't seem to have many friends, real friends in the movie. Maybe he once did but they're all gone now, timed out or killed because they couldn't get out of the ghetto like he did. Can you write a drabble where he makes an arrest and criminal/reader winds up being the only kid of one of his old friends and he feels protective because she's the last piece of a life he left behind? And of course he catches accidental romantic/naughty feelings!

i absolutely adore raymond, thank you for requesting him 💖

lonely (raymond leon x afab!reader)

warnings: age gap (obviously, raymond is ???? and reader is in her 20s-30s), mentions of death, slight nsfw/mentions of smut (just raymond’s thoughts, nothing actually happens)

author’s note: we as a society need more raymond leon fics 🙏

wrote this at 1 am so i apologize if it’s not the best

it wasn’t uncommon to see raymond taking late night walks by himself or sitting at a restaurant table alone, his apartment was too big; too quiet. outside of his work, raymond was lonely. he’d never admit it, but it was a loneliness that dragged on along with him, creating an empty, clouded space in his life.

once upon a time, raymond wasn’t so lonely. he had people he considered friends, people he cared for.

some would say that he was the last of his kind. that he was the lucky one, the one who got out of the ghetto and was able to make a life for himself, unlike those he had to leave behind. his memories of them were distant and scattered, replaced by the loneliness that had started to consume him after their deaths.

when he’d first met you, you’d been caught for time theft.

you hadn’t meant to steal time- in fact- you didn’t steal it. you’d run into a man in a bar and he offered it to you. it wasn’t until after he’d transferred 50 years to you that he began exclaiming that you’d stolen it from him. drunk or insane, you didn’t know. you figured both.

raymond looked at you as he took your arm, transferring the “stolen” time, and cuffed you. your face was familiar, your eyes holding a familiar light that he once saw in someone else. he shook the thought out of his head, leading you to his car.

when he asked for your name, you told him. he immediately stopped walking, freezing in place. he told you about how he’d known your father.

your eyes widened as he spoke. you’d never met anyone who knew your father- your father had died when you were young. your memories of him were just as distant and scattered as raymond’s.

“you did? but you’re a timekeeper-”

you looked at raymond for the first time. his hair was black, slicked back and his pale blue eyes staring into yours, his hands gripping your arm so tightly you swear you could see the white in his knuckles.

“i grew up in the ghetto. i got out.”

raymond was short with you. it was obvious to you he didn’t like talking about his past, or maybe he’d just never had anyone to talk about it with. you understood, though, that he’d lost people. you didn’t push, going silent once again.

he loosened his grip on your arm, carefully transferring the time back to you.

“when your father died, i’d lost the last of everything i knew. why waste such a pretty little thing like you?”

-

eventually, you’d started staying with him. he was gone most of the time anyways. when he returned home at night, he’d find you asleep on the couch. he’d gently pick you up and carry you to bed, laying you down.

raymond always thought about you. his thoughts plagued him, distracting him from his work and making it hard for him to focus.

when he laid down in his bed and closed his eyes at night, he could only see you. the way you’d look underneath him, your body exposed and just for him to feel, to kiss, to hold as he thrusted in and out of you.

on top of all of this, he had an unyielding feeling to protect you. to protect this last piece of life he had, this last reminder of his past.

he let you stay with him because he knew it was dangerous for you to walk around with that much time. you didn’t mind, you figured if anyone was skilled enough to protect you it was him.

but, you gave him something so much greater than all of the time in the world could give him. for the first time in as long as he could remember, he wasn’t lonely. his apartment was no longer too big and too quiet for him. and, for the first time in his long life, he felt something else: love.

masterlist

[im-not-samantha-im-samanta]

I’d like to request PIB Death’s reaction to his GN!s/o coming up to him one day and booping his nose. I’ve been thinking about this a lot haha-

Hello there! ^^

Thank you for your request, it's a very cute idea! Though truth be told, I struggled with this one so much - I couldn't figure out how Death would react! Not to mention I hated whatever I wrote-

Also, so sorry for how long it took me to write this, like I've said, I been struggling with this one BUT also been struggling mentally, so yeah. (⁠;⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠)

I also just read a good fic with Death, then read this one I wrote and realized I'm not good at portraying Death...yeah imma end myself now (⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠)(⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠෴⁠ ⁠༎ຶ⁠).

Anyways, I couldn't really decide if I wanted to do imagines or a fic, but ended up going with a short fic... or more like... a drabble? (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

I kind of experimented with my style, felt like adding it a different feel. Hope y'all like this one nonetheless! ^^"

___________________________________________

{Death, his s/o, and nose boops}

Settings: I don't think I specified it throughout the story. Though a bit more of a romantic vibe, I think?

Genre: Pure fluff! :3

!TRIGGER WARNING!: Don't think there's any! Maybe just brief talks of life, mortality and death, but that's to be expected with Muerte ^^,

Sidenote: Reader is written as gender neutral, but if they might have a more female feel then it's purely unintentional and I apologize!

Sidenote: I've never written full fluff fic (or more like drabble) before , so I hope I did well ^^"

-

That should be all, muffins! Feel free to read now ^^.

Hope you'll enjoy <3.

___________________________________________

Death was old as time itself.

A sad but an important part of life, he's been here since the very start.

And so, he's seen everything.

He's been there, done that, seen that, heard that,...

Yeah, he's seen everything, and it was hard to surprise Death.

Or at least, that's what he liked to claim, completely unaware of what tricks up your sleeve you, a mere mortal, still had.

And only now, when the two of you were peacefully sitting on the couch in the living room, did he face the truth that he, in fact, has not seen all after all.

You were up to something for sure, otherwise there'd be no reason for that rascally smile on your face as you slowly extended your hand towards Death, your pointer finger outstretched and aiming for Death's nose or so it seemed.

Death said nothing at that behaviour, after all, now that he was with you, he knew firsthand that mortals- humans especially - were weird creatures.

And so, he let you do your thing, having too much adoration for you to stop you.

Not to mention, a curious creature was Death, and intrigued by your actions, he just watched with a raised eyebrow and a smirk as your finger slowly neared his nose.

Then your finger was closer and closer and-

"Boop!" squeaking out in voice of high pitch, your finger tapped his nose, squishing it.

Then dead silence fell upon you.

Death was quiet, saying nothing at all.

His pointy ears had perked up though, his eyes of crimson wide as he seemed to be processing the action you'd just done.

And you had no idea what reaction to expect now.

Death was unpredictable, and figuring out his next move was something you had never succeeded in.

Nobody has, not even once.

And when the dead silence went on, filling the room like a thick fog, you couldn't help but retreat your hand and offer a nervous, meek smile.

You weren't scared of course, you knew your dear Lobo wouldn't bring you no harm, not now not ever.

But that uncertainty of what he'd do still left you wary after all.

Much to your luck, though, Death spoke at last.

"What... what was that you just did?" he questioned and a light grin stretched across his face, ruby red eyes wide and intrigued.

The expression was somewhat an unsettling one.

Death's eyes all wide, glowing, burning like wildfire, his razor sharp teeth all exposed by his twisted grin.

And combined with his massive stature and eerie aura, one could easily feel preyed upon...

But the word 'scared' did not describe how you felt at that moment.

You weren't scared, you knew better than to be distrustful of the wolf.

You trusted him fully, you didn't fear him even when he gazed at you like that.

You weren't scared.

Not when, with enough attention paid, you could notice Death's tail wagging ever so slightly.

And not when you had another giveaway of him being just intrigued by your action with no side motives - he intensely sniffed the air through his big nose with light growls rumbling in his throat.

Again, this action could seem intimidating to anyone else and could make them uneasy, but you knew that this action meant no danger - in your case that is.

In your case, you'd say it was something like when dogs panted happily when something caught their interest.

In other cases, mostly when it came to people who were reckless with their life or when it came to people who hurt others, this action had similar, but much more dangerous and terrifying meaning...

Well anyways, with that you knew you were in no real danger.

Although you still needed to be a bit cautious about what Death would do.

It could range from shrugging it off to starting a hunt with you being the prey.

"Oh... I... booped your nose...?" you answered and offered an awkward smile, unsure whether or not Death would be familiar with such term.

You didn't count on that much though.

"You... booped... my nose?" Death repeated after you, the term unfamiliar for his tongue.

And that eyebrow raise was enough for you to know your dear Lobo's never heard such word. Yet, his grin still remained the same - sly, intrigued.

Death added nothing more though, and only stared at you with his wide eyes that made you feel in the story of Little Red Riding Hood when The Big Bad Wolf stared at the little girl with wide eerie gaze, and the girl uttered those famous words: "But Grandmother, what big eyes you have!".

You wondered where your own story would lead to if you uttered those exact words to your Big Bad Wolf... Your Lobo feroz...

Nonetheless, you got the silent hint, and went ahead to elaborate what it meant to boop someone's nose.

"It's when you affectionately tap or squish someone's nose and say a 'boop'." you explained softly, smiling meekly.

Then taking a note of that light head tilt and eyebrow raise Death did at your words, you added: "It's a show of endearment,".

"It's a show of endearment," Death repeated after you as if checking he's heard correct, his voice holding a quality you couldn't really pinpoint.

Was it amusement you heard? confusion? disbelief? something else? It was hard to tell.

And then, Death fell silent once again.

It was silent again, and you weren't sure of what to do, Death being way too hard to figure out at the very moment - just like most times...

Hesitantly, you prepared to say something - anything - to break the awkward silence.

But then a chuckle came.

A chuckle came, and Death muttered: "Oh my," before covering his eyes with his paw and a grin grew on his face as his shoulders bounced ever so slightly.

Was he...?

And then it came!

Death broke into a fit of laughter.

Death was laughing!

He was wholeheartedly laughing like never before, the deep sound being sharp to the ears yet warm to the heart.

"Squishing nose and making a silly, high pitched sound to show affection!" Death exclaimed, shaking his head with amusement all written over the wolf's face as he laughed.

He seemed to be having the time of his life, and you couldn't help but smile, feeling all warm inside at the sight.

It was honestly sweet, refreshing to see Death like that, and so you didn't even risk saying something, letting your Lobo have his fun.

"My," Death breathed, his laughter eventually dying down to just an occasional chuckle, "you mortals never fail to amuse me,"

"you never really disappoint..." Death mused still shaking his head some with an amused grin on his face.

"Squishing nose and making a silly, high pitched sound to show affection..." he repeated his earlier exclamation, a light chuckle escaping him again before his half-lidded eyes found yours and he went all silent.

"Yeah, it is quite strange, isn't it?" You said lowly once your eyes locked with Death's, a meek smile playing on your face as a light chuckle left your lips as well.

It really was unusual yet amusing, you had to admit that.

Though still feeling a bit awkward in the moment, your instincts told you to ramble, which you attempted to do: "Honestly, I don't even-".

But then.

"Boop," Death muttered and his clawed finger tapped the tip of your nose!

Oh no way! Did he just-??

"Boop..." Death repeated, and chuckled at how silly the sound sounded before he did the action again.

He booped your nose and let out that silly 'boop' sound, making you peek at his finger cross-eyed and scrunch your nose as he smiled.

And right after he did all that, his ears and whole body perked up and his tail wagged all happily!

And as Death's soft smile twisted into a wide, satisfied grin and Death yet again intensely breathed through his nose, growls rumbling in his throat, the message was made clear:

You better prepare for a life filled with nose boops from now on.

Better watch out.

___________________________________________