#these can be dialogue or just drabble-based ??

[2tarbell]

vanilla birthday cake — send some dialogue 4 a short drabble with rafe + any of my !readers

mean!rafe + crybaby!reader “i don’t wanna know”

HAKSJSKSJKS

MEAN!RAFE + CRYBABY!READER ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩 .𖥔˚

participate in my bday celebration!!!

rafe had had just about enough. he wasn’t very patient to begin with but he was trying to be better — for her.

his poor little girlfriend that had a never ending supply of sorrow and tears. normally, around him, she was content as could be. and he was happy to indulge her and be the one to soothe her when external factors hurt her sensitive heart.

but she just wouldn’t stop crying.

today, she had to have set a new record. whimpering away next to him while rafe tried to get some work done on his computer. she knew better than to interrupt him when he was working, but crybaby just needed some attention. some love.

what if he was all quiet ‘cause he realized how annoying she was? what if—

“okay, what’s a-matter?”

her watery eyes flickered up to his deep blue and thundering ones.

rafe stared at her impatienty — fingers poised as if about to start typing. but his eyes held a question in them. an intensity that makes crybaby shrink into herself, eyes shifting and babbling for an answer while her shaky hands played with the buttons on her shirt.

“wha—? oh, um, s’nothing…”

not a good liar, but even worse at holding eye contact. rafe huffed and closed the laptop abruptly. he spread his legs further, setting the device somewhere beside him. she could be so difficult sometimes.

“kid, you’re over there, sniffin’ and shit — what’s the problem?” his voice was gruff and low, but so familiar and comforting in its own way. running a hand over his buzzed head in a way that always sent her heart racing.

“well, uh, i— i jus’— um…” the stuttered words came out clumsily, not a coherent thought in her head as she stared wide eyed at him. tears began to well anew.

“okay, okay— shut up. i don’t wanna know anymore, jus’— c’mere.”

god, she looked dumb with that look on her face. all frozen and tense as he tries to coax her closer. like a deer and a hunter.

rafe tilts his head to the side, a small smirk settling on his lips. he sees the moment she relaxes; eyes still wet and lip still trembling but she’s scooting closer nonetheless.

he scoops crybaby into his lap, strong arms circling her and pulling her into his chest. rafe sighs like it’s hard work — but the concerned furrow of his brow says otherwise.

she’s still sniffing, nuzzling her face further and further into his chest as she straddles him. trying to disappear fully into his warmth and affection. it’s like just being in his arms sends her into a daze. it’s made worse by his hand pulling her chin up, forcing their eyes to meet.

“what’s wrong, baby?”

her rafe. that soft mumble only she’s privy to. his gentleness entirely reserved for her, for her moments of need. yet, she loves when he’s mean to her — in that dirty, knowing way he is. when her heart just feels so heavy and she doesn’t wanna think anymore. she craves that fuzziness only he can make her feel, a warmth pooling in her underwear. she needs it.

her voice is meek and barely audible when she huffs, “i jus’— today was so—”

rafe rolls his eyes, but tugs her closer. pressing firm kisses to her hairline and letting her ramble on about all the hard things she went through. she doesn’t register his wandering hands. it’s only when his fingertips are breaching her lace panties when she finally notices how he’s pushed her skirt up.

“hmf— rafey—”

her slickness makes a groan vibrate through his chest, fingers pressing forward until he’s prodding at that spongey spot just right. crybaby is hiccuping and sniffling again — eyes pitifully squeezed shut from the intrusion.

“shuddap, let daddy do this, yeah? getchu to stop whinin’ for once.”

based off this little thing i wrote!!!

[sonofarathorn]

dog tags [l.h]

Pairing: Logan Howlett x fem!reader Word Count: 800 words Warnings: Smut (18+). Unprotected Sex. Little dialogue. A/N: Here's a little drabble I've been thinking about since I saw Deadpool & Wolverine. It's my first attempt at writing in like a whole year. Please go easy on me. Dedicated to @eupheme for inspiring me to write again.

You love these moments, so few and far between. When the world melts away, and it’s just you and Logan. Sharing space. Sharing love. 

That gentle, sinful dance. The slick slide of skin. Dewey breaths and twin moans. The quiet squeak of the bed frame, keeping time with Logan’s deep thrusts. 

He’s wrapped himself completely around you, pressing his entire weight onto your body. It’s like he’s trying to burrow his way into you. Leave the imprint of himself upon your very soul. You’re trapped between the soft mattress and his solid body, completely vulnerable to him. As he is to you. Baring his soul before you. Letting you take what you want as he willingly offers you everything he has. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Logan groans into your ear. His teeth brush the shell, sending shivers down your spine. 

You thread your fingers in the damp hair at the nape of his neck. Tugging those strands when he thrusts deeper, finding that mind-numbing spot. “Feel so good, baby.” 

He shudders at the praise. Shoulders tightening in determination. To make you feel good. To unravel you.

Logan’s nose bumps yours clumsily as he presses a sloppy kiss to your lips. Filthy and sweet. His tongue slides into your open mouth, greedily tasting the saccharine moans that leave your throat. He fills you with his own pleasured noises. Deep and tangy. Bourbon and honey. Aged to perfection for a special occasion as this. 

Your hands slide the length of his broad shoulders, tangling in the metal chain that dangles from his neck. You pull him impossibly closer, fusing your bodies. He surges over you like a wave, pulling you deeper and deeper into the riptide of your pleasure. 

Logan hitches your leg around his hips and swallows your cry of his name. When your head tips back, overwhelmed by the heady sensation building within you, he watches. Watches the slack of your jaw, your kiss-swollen lips forming the letters of silent pleas. Watches the furrow of your brow, that flash of desperation in your eyes. 

Logan brushes his thumb over the swell of your lips. Your teeth catch the pad of it, tongue swirling out to soothe the sting. 

He groans, half-lidded eyes drooping more. The languid rock of his hips jerking for a moment. That knot in his stomach threatening to come loose. But he knows you're close to that edge. Can hear it in those sweet high-pitched moans, feel it in the needy undulations of your hips as you seek release. He won’t come yet, not without you. 

Logan draws his thumb from your mouth and fits it into the space where your bodies meet. You gasp at the slick pressure against your clit. The expert circles he presses pushing you further, driving you higher.  His free hand grabs yours, pressing your palm into the pillow. 

The sweet gesture, the connection adds to the intensity of the feelings swirling around you. For the longest time sex with Logan was primal, desire-based. The only goal was getting to the end, that blissful orgasm. Not that you minded, you had needs to. But lately…well things had changed. Tender touches replaced bruising force. Fiery, biting kisses turned languid. Still intense, just different.

“Gonna make me cum, Logan,” you whisper, eyes still locked on his. “‘M close.”

“I know,” he says. 

The thumb on your clit picks up speed and the heat in your belly grows. Logan crowds your space, bending you nearly in half. The movement has his dog tags dangling in your face, bumping against your chin with every forward thrust. 

A wicked thought fills your head. The desire fogging your brain. On his next forward push, you suck the tags into your mouth. The effect is two-fold. The cool metal on your tongue tastes of sweat. It keeps your mouth busy and forces Logan to remain close. 

You can feel his breath on your face, hear that warped groan, for a split second before he’s kissing you. Cool metal mixing with the uninhibited warmth of desire.  

It pushes you over the edge. You come with a choke groan, and Logan’s not far behind you. He kisses your chin, forehead falling against yours as he empties himself inside you. 

The afterglow has always been your favorite. Your body limp and floating through the syrupy sensation of pleasure. Senses dialed up to ten as you slowly come down. Logan lies limp on top of you, fighting to regain control of his breathing. He’ll never admit this, but he’s a cuddler. Seeking that warmth, the connection that’s eluded him for so long. Softness he’s never allowed himself to have. Softness he doesn’t think he deserves. 

You were the first to offer it to him in such a long time, and he’s long since stopped running from it. Maybe that’s why he keeps coming back. Giving you little pieces of himself each time.

[oozebrain]

For @terrifierclown based off an awesome prompt!!

Art x gender neutral and shy reader drabble. No dialogue is exchanged. Fluff, kissing, and love bites from your favorite clown. Small tw for blood (nothing graphic, Art just gets carried away!).

Nothing too explicit but contains suggestive themes, body worship, and smooching. Minors DNI.

His Eyes

“I could have told you then, you’d heard it all before,

And now you’re in suspense, you’ll have to wait for more.

In all those mysteries you’re taken by surprise,

You never thought to see that look was in his eyes.”

You threw your bag over on the couch and followed right along. With a deep and relieved sigh, you plop down on the cushions and stretch your arms over the back of the couch. It feels good to finally sit down after a long day and you prop your feet up on the table. You forgot to take your shoes off and you shrug it off. You were too tired from the day. Your feet and shoulders ached and all you wanted to do was bask in the solace of the dark room.

From the closet burst an entity, a sudden presence that filled the area with oppressive energy. You startled at the shadowy figure with an audible yelp, clambering for the light and switching it on. Your breath quivers at the fright but it quickly rolls over into a laugh of relief. It was just your roommate.

This is a game the two of you play, seeing who can scare the other and it was Art’s turn this time. He laughed uproariously in silence, his lips curling over his teeth in a wide mouth smile. He strode over to you with a bounce in his step before stopping short exclaiming wildly with his hands. He pointed furiously to your feet on the table and shook his head. He shooed them off theatrically until you relented and placed your feet on the ground. But he would not relent.

At first you were confused then remembered Art had a strict ‘no shoes in the house’ policy that he was enforcing just as you were enforcing he wear deodorant. Consider it his way of getting back at you. You chuckled then removed your shoes and tossed them over by the door, looking back at him reassuringly before averting your gaze to look just past him.

It was hard to look him in the face, especially his eyes. His shark-like eyes pulled every ounce of surrounding light into them and swallowed them into its great maw. Nothing could escape them, especially you. He would often stare at you, you could both feel and see it, but you could never return it.

Art tilted his head and drummed his fingers on his hips before taking a seat beside you, nearly sitting on you with his close proximity. He mirrored you, leaning back against the couch and draping his arms over the back of it. His arm rested atop yours, his much longer arms easily reaching over your shoulders. He touched your face experimentally, as though you were a curiosity.

He carefully pinched your cheek, just light enough to feel pressure before turning your face towards his. You offer him a small, shy smile, averting your eyes to the side. This intrigues him as his hand moves to your jaw. He clasps it gently, but with a commanding firmness as he pulls your face closer. With his free hand he once again trails his fingers over your face, smoothing your eyebrows, grazing your eyelids and nostrils. His finger trails down to your lips and eventually your neck.

Art wraps his fingers around your neck, admiring how easily his large hand fits around it. Something about knowing he could crush you but approached you so gently made your heart race. He did not squeeze, but merely allowed his hand to linger there, the meat of his palm pressing into your throat. He must have felt you gulp as his hand twitched slightly in response. You can feel his gaze burning intensely into your soul.

Without warning, both of his hands are on either side of your face and he is wrenching your head to look up directly at him. His expression is neutral, and there is no animosity behind his actions. Rather, he seems curious, and desperate, to get you to look at him. He gives your head a small shake of encouragement and motions for you to look upward.

Eventually you do meet his gaze but cannot maintain it for long. His eyes, obsidian glimmering orbs of Hell’s treasury, expel you. Behind their black expression there is a ever kindled fire burning furiously. There is a powerful force behind them that renders you powerless like a deer in the headlights. His gaze is too forceful to meet and withstand.

But he wants you to look at him. He shakes you again, this time parting his lips as though to speak but nothing comes out. Art tilts his head slightly down to match with you instead of forcing you, and you find yourself staring into the corner of his eye. With great effort, you meet his gaze and become entangled in it.

You cannot look away from the smoldering iris, the black sheet of cooled lava with fire brewing beneath it. Through the cracks you can see it, the fire, the passion, the molten fires of hell itself. You realize you are not breathing, nor can you. You have gone still as he commands your gaze and looks at you in a way no one ever has, or ever will.

His lips are abruptly on yours, gentle at first. He barely grazes them with his own, black makeup flecking your face as he trails his lips against your mouth, your jawline, your cheek. Gentle bites accompany his exploration as he tugs at the skin of the nape of your neck. He withdraws from the awkward, stooped position and wrenches your head upwards again, commanding your attention.

You barely looked at him before his lips met your again, this time with more ferocity. His kisses were no longer exploratory or gentle, rather they were a mashing of teeth and tongue. Your hands found his chest and clung to the smooth fabric of his suit before wrapping around him. Your dig your nails into his back, encouraging him to continue. He responds to this by kissing you more fervently, his biting becoming more feral and less experimental.

There was a sudden sharp pain in your lower lip and something warm. Art paused, body heaving with silent panting as he wiped his thumb along your lip. It was red with blood and without hesitation he sucked it off his finger before returning to your lips. The excitement emanating from him was nearly tangible.

He licked along your bottom lip and drew it into his mouth, extracting the blood from it. The act was strangely sensual. Your head was too clouded to feel revulsion and terror, and instead you gently withdraw from him to offer a small, playful kiss on the end of his nose.

You feel the corners of his mouth upturn in a smile and he reciprocates the affection. He returns to his mannerisms, kissing and biting, exploring every inch of your face, neck, and shoulders. You are what he craves, what he needs, and he finds the taste, scent, and sight of you delectable. He savors every inch, every millimeter, as he explores with his mouth and leaves a trail of hickies along your neck, physically marking you as his territory.

His arms wrap around you and pull you in closer, his hands scooping you off the couch and into his lap. He breaks the kiss to look at you once more and, blushing, you reciprocate his gaze. His eyes indicated he was hungry, ravenous, and that you are just what he wants.

[the-oblivious-writer]

Too Sweet

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Drabble

Summary: You and Wednesday were simply night and day, contrasting personalities preventing any chance of pursuit

Warning(s): No dialogue, pining!Wednesday, & no pronouns but the word 'goddess' is used once

Notes: Based off of 'Too Sweet' by the lovely Andrew Hozier, this song feels wenclair coded - hopefully I get the energy to edit them to it one day. This is my first time writing for Wednesday, so constructive criticism is more than welcome, and much appreciated! 🙏 (as it always is)

Wednesday despised you. She loathed every fiber of your being, every word you spoke, every path you chose. Yet no matter how deep her hatred for you ran, it was all out of pure spite.

You were close friends with Enid, so inevitably that meant you and Wednesday often found yourselves in the same atmosphere. Sometimes you and Enid would have sleepovers and it did not take long for Wednesday to discover you were an early bird opposed to her late night writing sessions. 

You always looked so peaceful while resting. How do you sleep so well? Wednesday wondered. What do you dream about? It’s silly and utterly ridiculous, she knows. But her mind can’t help but stray when it comes to you. You have shown your own concern when it comes to the Addams’ erratic sleep schedule, if you could even classify it as one. You have always said to others—including Wednesday—to live right, to go to bed before the daylight. 

You wake up to watch the sunrise;  it was repulsing how rottenly pure that is. You were drunk on life, a poet—but far from Wednesday’s brand. You had a bright perspective; it was naive, yet wholesome. Your poetry revolves around the optimistic, steadfast side of life—while Wednesday’s consists of more realistic themes such as death, betrayal, and eternal heartbreak. It was a drastic contrast.

Wednesday could never bear such a naive way of life, so she simply doesn’t understand how you do. It was such a frustrating thought, the way you went about. Don’t you just want to wake up dark as a lake, smelling like a bonfire, lost in a haze? You lived such a reserved life in her eyes; treating your mouth as if it's heaven’s gate, your body like it’s the TSA. 

She wasn’t oblivious to the glances you spared her; it was an internal battle refusing to meet them. But there were consequences. Wednesday has seen horrific things, things she believes would force a person like you into abandoning their wide-eyed outlook on life; she refuses to be the one who corrupts you. She wishes she could go along, don’t get her wrong. You were a goddess on earth, inside and out; bright as the morning, as soft as the rain, pretty as a vine, as sweet as a grape. Tooth rotting was what you were, but Wednesday did always deem herself a masochist. 

If you can sit in a barrel, maybe she’ll wait. But until that day, she’d rather take her whiskey neat, raw as the honey in your tea, and coffee black as the ink you use to craft your sugar coated poems. Your sweetness was too overwhelming for her to carry, the looks you gave her alone were laced in your perfection. 

Everything pointed to the evident conclusion; you’re too sweet for her.

-----------

A/N: I feel eh abt this one, but I need to experiment with Wednesday more if I wanna get used to writing for her

[mothhball]

hiiii i saw your drabbles requests post :)

um...how would neil feel about cockwarming?

NEIL LEWIS X READER

summary patience is a rare virtue...

warnings SMUT!! this is just filth lmao <3 dom reader supremacy, subby Neil, cockwarming, no specific mention of reader's genitals

notes thanks for the request!!! this one got a little short because I'm fighting to get my groove back lmao

! MINORS DNI !

main masterlist • taglist • kofi word count: 472

"This would have a runtime of two minutes and thirty seconds if they would just talk to each other.”

Neil groans into the crook of your shoulder, tightening his grip on the flesh of your thighs which causes you to shift in his lap and him to whine in response. The movie you’re trying to watch continues to flicker across Neil’s tube TV, presenting both of you with scene after scene of (admittedly) shallow entertainment. But god, every once in a while, you just want to watch something fun and sappy instead of one of Neil’s favorite black-and-white masterpieces that were shot on “authentic, good ol’ fashioned film” and feature a beautiful actress that got traumatized by a director.

Sometimes you just want to watch a rom-com. And in a last-ditch attempt to turn movie night in your favor, you suggested a little reward if Neil managed to make it through. To sweeten the deal.

“What did we agree on regarding catty remarks?” you prompt, trying not to smile when you hear him sigh and grumble into your neck.

“Little to none,” he mutters, placing his chin back on your shoulder to try and brace through the last thirty minutes of the movie. His silence lasts for a minute. A valiant effort, considering you’ve been squeezing his cock inside of you since the two of you got settled on the couch and he handed you the remote.

“Can’t you at least, like… grind a little?” How cute. He’s trying to bargain with you. But he hasn’t earned it just yet. You shake your head, clicking your tongue in disapproval when he bucks his hips up into you without your permission.

“Don’t,” you hiss, reaching under yourself to grab onto the throbbing base of his cock and squeeze. The strangled noise that leaves Neil’s lips is almost enough to break your own resolve. Almost. Not looking at him makes it easier to stay resolute, but you can feel him trembling, hear him panting right against your body. His grip on your thighs is twitching, betraying the desperate need that fills every cell and fiber of his heated flesh.

“Please –“ he chokes out from behind gritted teeth, “Oh fuck, please…”

It’s an exercise in restraint for both of you. Delicious torture in the comfort of your living room. And in a moment of wicked delight, you wait for his breath to steady before you clench around his aching cock, sending him spiraling again.

“Just 20 more minutes, baby. And then I’ll ride you while the credits roll,” you promise, treating yourself to a little glimpse over your shoulder to look at his flushed cheeks and watery eyes. He nods, you smile and turn back toward the TV to enjoy the next line of cheesy, overacted dialogue.

This really is the perfect movie date.

@tkappi @ddawgg1 @wiseyouthinfluencer @cillianslvt @ilovedottore

@vegasisthinking @paradiseprincesss @sagepixie @rosiemarieyn @bloodandglitter207

@luvlloyd @smxkyqvxrtz @4doorsup @biblicallyaccuratebee @nocturnest

@ilovetoxicfictionalmen @hanawrites404 @celebrities-imagines @kiss-me-cill-me @ptolemaniac

@0loveoak0 @nnattu @ashdrinksoatmilk @vampmary1411 @ink5ouls

@calicoartie @pretty-bluebird @detroitbecomevenom @mandies24 @x0xomady

@mcumorningstar @cilliansprincess @ellebellebarnes @strangeobsessed @ryecosse

[fanaticsnail]

how do I convince you to make at LEAST a part 2 to The Sword and Spear?! Cause omg I need more! I wanna know if Mihawk eats his words once reader is dressed more in the way he prefers and then just the aftermath of MIHAWK showing up STARK NAKED to see GARP!!

Please I beg of you- if not a full part then you can do a short little imagine but please at least something to quench my hunger!!

I hope you have a good rest of your day/night! :)

Wine and Warlords

Masterlist Here, Part 1 Here

Word Count: 700+

Synopsis: Celebrating your victory by goading in the arms of a fellow warlord.

Themes: Mihawk x f!reader, warlords, drinking, drunk kissing, swearing, flirty dialogue, name calling, secondhand embarrassment.

Notes: This little drabble was brought to you by a couple of glasses of Cabernet Sauvignon, and by you, beautiful @h0n3y-l3m0n05. Thank you for your ask, it ate at me. Part 2 Drabble to your initial request, @sexc-snail.

Tag list: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @gingernut1314 @carrotsunshine @mfreedomstuff @vespidphoenix

Lulling your head onto his shoulder, his arm draped in a soft shroud over your torso. His smile tickled the shell of your ear, a soft puff of wine-tinted breath beckoned your attention closer.

“Finally got the feral filiform in my arms,” he whispered in a slow and slurred breath, “And in such a pretty black dress.” He swayed in his seat, wineglass laying limply in his hands as he swirled the deep rouge in the ballooned base of the glass stem.

“Such a flatterer, for such a conceited cunt,” your own voice slurred back at him, smiling broadly within the lap of your fellow warlord, “Particularly one who just walked in: balls out and dick swinging in front of the marine council and the world government.”

Joining with his soft laughter, you attempted to lean away from his embrace to collect the bottle of wine atop the bar; only for him to tug at your body to pull you in closer. He reached his left hand down to collect your chin, turning your face with the tip of his index finger. His lips parted, lazily descending to claim yours beneath his own.

“Not so conceited as you may think,” his smile cracked the corners of his eyes in a playful twinkle.

“Still a cunt,” you taunted back, flicking your tongue to brush with the tip of his nose.

Lips engulfed your mouth, whiskered flesh brushing and chafing the soft skin of your face as his hands drew you in closer. Turning in his arms, you braced your hands against him: grasping his opened shirt in clenched fists as you gasped into his mouth. His tongue darted out, rolling lazily with your own and tinting your tongue with the subtle hint of red wine.

His hands wandered over your back, molding the flesh beneath his firm palms and skilled fingertips. Your knee knocked against his crotch, a moan a few times higher than he truly intended falling freely from his lips.

“Let me get the wine, Hawk,” you murmured against his mouth, taking his bottom lip within your clamped teeth and tugging at it, “Let's drink in celebration of my victory. Again.”

“Go and get it then, Hyena,” he taunted you, “And I'll drink as many glasses as you require of me to cement your win. Go on,” he taunted you, his amber eyes fluttering dangerously with an air of danger. His nose scrunched in a small twitch, his lips snarling in a smirk, “Get it.”

“Oh,” you taunted him in return, eyes mirroring a similar dark intensity as his own, “I’ll get something, alright,” you cooed down at him.

Your fingers found his pectorals, the pads of your digits circling the sensitive flesh of his nipples as you descended your lips once again to claim his. Licking, biting and molding your lips atop his, he was held helpless beneath your ministrations.

Uncharacteristic moans, whimpers and cries fled from the world's greatest swordsman as you journeyed your hands over his torso. He cupped the backs of your knees, ushering you to straddle his waist and angled his chin in a circular rotation to deepen the oscillation with his skillful, needy lips.

Snapping your head away from his, arching your back up and offering him a winning smile, you reached for the wine bottle and raised it to your lips. Gulping back a hefty swig, Mihawk's eyes both held mortification and awe.

“You absolute savage,” Mihawk praised you, easing back into the chair and staring up at you with glassy eyes: obs blown with unbridled lust.

Mischief danced over your face, your eyes holding him at ransom beneath your ferocious intensity. Leaning down, you split your lips and fed the deep, red wine to him through your mouth.

He whistled a hum through his nose, shock evident on his features as he gulped down his favorite vintage through the partition of your lips. Humming in momentary bliss, Mihawk cradled your body against himself and humbled himself to be truly at your mercy.

Pulling away from his body, you used your thumb to cast aside the few droplets spilling over his bottom lip. Elevating your thumb, you sucked at the digit as his fingers brushed your thighs dangerously higher.

“Go on, big boy,” you taunted him, snarling with a small smirk, “Show me all the ways you can please a woman.”

Horrified eyes, shocked lips and tense shoulders were littered throughout the tavern. Cadets, marines, generals, admirals and other warlords dare not spare the two of you more than a subtle glance before returning their attention to their tankards.

Not a breath was huffed, nor a murmur mentioned at the prior exposure of Mihawk's bare ass in the sandstone building. Although none spoke it, all eyes held an intense silent understanding they all shared.

Both warlords were in for a wild ride.

[ryescapades]

₊˚⊹☁ 𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝟏𝐤𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 ☁₊˚⊹

to celebrate having 1000+ of you here, and my birthday which is also around the end of december (1k + cakes = 1kakes haha get it). thank you so much !! this is my little attempt at repaying you guys.

much love, rye.

𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 (coming soon . . . )

╰┈➤ [ 🍰 SLICE ONE ; speak up ! ] ༊*·˚

send me a character + sfw/nsfw (choose either!) + one dialogue from the list here OR one of your own! i will write you a drabble/short fic based on your dialogue, and 1k is the word limit.

╰┈➤ [ 🍰 SLICE TWO ; scarf down ! ] ༊*·˚

send a character + theme / colour OR one of your selfships + some trivia (don't have to be lots. just one or two are good enough!) i’ll make a moodboard based on the vibes of your request.

e.g. “bf!isagi” , "y/n x f/o + golden retriever bf x cat gf" or in any form that could help me with what you want. samples: x – x

╰┈➤ [ 🍰 SPECIAL SLICE ! ] ༊*·˚

in honor of joining the secret santa event hosted for the members of @/pixelcafe-network! — will be posted on the 17th.

[ rules ]

you can order for slice one, slice two, or both !

mutuals, followers, non followers, all are welcomed!

exception for slice two: any character is acceptable!

some may contain nsfw so please mdni with those.

no angst because this is a happy occasion (hurt/comfort is okay).

fandoms i’m accepting: kn8, bllk, wbk, tougen anki, haikyuu, genshin impact, jjk, mha (see here for specific characters i write for & more general rules!)

[ notes ]

this was supposed to be held in november but life got in the way of things (and i still have some old requests marinating in my inbox lol i'll try to work on those in between i prommy TT) so i had to postpone it.

i'm hosting this event while still in the middle of my midterm season btw so it'll be a gradual process. plus finals are less than 2 months away so highly likely it will be a long term project. no rushing me please !! if you are fine with that, feel free to request away.

tag! @17020

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !

[cheollipop]

Time for me to be indulgent and malicious and target you specifically ehehheheheh

How about a wooyoung drabble with lots of impreg kink, breeding kink, like the whole nine yards. I want to see this man fill reader up all full iykwim

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

FINALLY- finally got to this *eye twitch* had a bit of a mind fart trying to figure out what to write at first but,, oh boy. I'm a little unsure about the dialogue tbh but my brain is not braining anymore and I kinda just wanna get this out already T-T... (pls consider this your birthday present if i don't get around to writing you a fic on time mwah) happy reading!!!~

pairing: jung wooyoung x afab!reader

w.c.: 1.3k

tags: smut, unprotected sex (👎), breeding/impreg kink, creampie kink, hints of cockwarming, use of nicknames/pet names, VERY possessive woo, he just wants you to be his forever ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

You knew something was off. The minute Wooyoung strolled into the kitchen with purposeful strides, bare feet padding across the floorboards and stopping behind you, veiny arms wrapping around your middle to inhale his own scent off the shirt draped over your figure. He peppered open-mouthed kisses along the side of your face, down to your neck and jaw, tucking himself close to your body until his chest was flush to your back. Nuzzling his nose into your shoulder, he brushed away the remnants of his dream, thoughts about waking up to an empty bed, a home barren of your presence, sending a shiver down his spine.

The silence was off-putting, clear droplets hanging on to Wooyoung’s eyelashes when you craned your neck to peek at him, “Woo? Darling, what’s wrong?”

“Mine,” he muttered, eyes fixed on yours, pupils quivering while he bent you over the counter, one hand turning the stove off while the other slid up your spine, bunching his shirt around your waist. “You're not leaving me... are you?”

Still looking back at him, your eyes softened at the vulnerability breaking his voice, “Never, my love. ”

You allowed him to manhandle you, biting down on your bottom lip in anticipation as he rid you of your panties, feeling him stand back to watch them fall to your feet, relief easing the crushing weight off his chest at your words. The tension in his stance gradually dissolving, he ran his fingertips through your folds, teasing one of his digits around your hole—still soft and stretched-out from last night, heaving chests and pretty whimpers still fresh in his mind.

You could see lingering traces of insecurity clouding his unfocused eyes while they took in the way your pussy swallowed his fingers with ease, relaxing your upper body onto the cold marble while he made sure your cunt was still moulded to his shape. “I promise, Woo. I’m all yours.”

He snapped his head up, reaching for your hand and plastering himself to your back in the process, tangling your fingers until the metal encircling them clacked against each other—wedding bands reflecting the morning light. You weren’t sure when he’d rid himself of his bottoms, or when he’d pulled his digits out of you, but his cock was now pushing past your entrance, and you couldn’t seem to care anymore.

“Mine,” his palm landed on your ass, grabbing a handful of the flesh as he bottomed out, “all mine.” One hand in yours, the other obsessing over your backside, Wooyoung drove his cock into you with desperation you’d rarely seen pour out of him. “’Gonna fuck you dumb.”

“Woo-”

“Gonna make sure everyone knows that too,” he tucked his head into the crook of your neck, “have your husband’s cum dripping out of your pretty pussy. Fuck, please, can I stuff my baby full?”

You shivered under him, reaching back to cup his hip, “Show them I’m yours, Woo, ‘wanna be so full of you.”

“Oh, darling, ‘gonna give you everything I have,” his fingers tightened around your skin, spitting out broken moans every time you squeezed around his base, your cunt begging him not to go, “until you’re all pretty and swollen with my babies.”

Growling into your clothed shoulder, he slid his hand over the slope of your ass and up your spine, pounding his cock into you with fervor, your balance wavering as he jerked your body forward with every forceful thrust. With your fingers still locked together, he brought them down to your other hip, holding you still while he used your cunt as a cocksleeve, but his lips remained gentle, peppering tender kisses over the exposed skin of your name, smiling against the goosebumps raised at the gesture.

“Close,” you mumbled, drool pooling over the countertop as Wooyoung’s cockhead continuously grazed over your g-spot, and you no longer had the energy to look back at him. “Please, ‘m so close.”

You missed the way his face contorted—eyes lidded and brimming with lust, skin tinted with a pretty shade of pink while he drew shallow breaths into his lungs. He throbbed within you at the way your cunt stretched open to allow him access, cock buried deep within your walls with beads of precum blended with your arousal seeping out of you every time he pushed back inside. You squirmed under him, and he could feel you pulsing around him with the dire need to be touched, your clit demanding attention while he split you open on his cock.

“You can do it, baby,” he clicked his tongue at the frantic shake of your head. “You know you can. You’ve done it before, remember? Youngie fucked you so good you squirted all over his cock.”

“Please, I-”

“Shhh,” he folded himself over you, pressing his lips to your nape, the hand on your back now clutching the edge of the counter. “You can do it.”

His hips picked up their pace, hammering into you in deep thrusts, as though he couldn’t bear not being sheathed within your tight heat. That, paired with the stunted moans flowing into your ears, had black dots dancing around in your blurred vision, thighs trembling as you attempted to hold yourself up while tumbling over the edge. Broken repetitions of his name rolled off your tongue, fingers tightening around his while he fucked you through it, a possessive arm now snug around your waist to take some of the weight off your legs.

“So fucking good for me,” he planted kisses over your sweat-covered skin, exhaling hot air from his nose while his chest heaved over your back, “here it comes, sweetheart.”

Standing still, his hips flush to yours as he fed you every last inch of his cock, Wooyoung painted your walls in burning ropes of white, languidly grinding his length impossibly deeper to fuck his seed into your womb. You spasmed with every brush against your g-spot, your cheek smushed onto the warmed marble while you took Wooyoung’s cum, leaving him to ride out his orgasm at his own pace, using your body yet treading his fingers over its slopes in awe. Soft grunts reverberated in his throat, his forehead pressed to your shoulder blade as he milked out the last of his load, raising his head to hook his chin over your shoulder. His cock remained encased within your fluttering, drenched walls, a line of milky liquid seeping past the stretched rim and down your inner thighs.

He studied your face as though it was his first time laying eyes on you, eyes dancing over the tranquillity cast over your features, drool glimmering on the countertop, your tongue peeking out to moisten the cracks decorating the plush of your lips. He leaned forward—groaning when you squeezed around his softening length—to press a kiss to your jaw, nuzzling his nose into the warmed skin while he dug his fingers into your lower back, easing the tension he’d caused.

You stared back at him, hoping the insecurity and fear he’d woke up drowning in had been erased, gone with no trace. You hoped that your words, your presence, and a cunt full of his cum were enough reassurance that a long life with Wooyoung was all you wanted. Just as you were about to speak, the scorched odour of pancakes that’d been sitting on a hot pan for too long reached your nostrils, grimacing while slowly turning your head to face Wooyoung properly, narrowing your eyes at him while he looked to the side in faux innocence.

“You really couldn’t wait until I was done with breakfast?”

Glancing at the nearly-empty bowl of batter, followed by the charred bottom of the pancake peeking back at him from the pan, a coy smile curled the corners of his lips, moving his attention back at you as he tucked himself closer to your drained form.

“I figured those pancakes could use a little cream.”

[venomous-qwille]

hi qwille!!! I got questions for u! you have lots of characters planned out, and that’s super cool! but how do u usually go about that process? like all your characters are very unique, and I wonder about the design process, as well as how you make their personality distinct! how do you make character dynamics/relationships? because all the scenes I’ve read so far make the characters feel really organic, and mesh really well together! (sorry for all the questions! I’m super curious ^w^)

Hiya! Here is an answer I wrote for this question on discord recently ^^

I will try answer this as thoroughly as possible!

There was a LOT of kill your darlings involved in making characters for gitm. Originally I had a very long list of character ideas that I cut down and down based on the kind of things and themes they would give me the opportunity to write about. I love long ensemble cast stories, thinking back to ones I particularly enjoyed and the ways those characters gelled together helped me a lot. The most important thing when selecting characters was making sure they would give me something interesting to write about! I was also very keen on ones that let me explore the fics main theme of Family from a different angle. I'm not sure how helpful this all is! But yeah, I try to be pretty strict with myself about what I include. The only reason I would include two characters who were very very similar would be to emphasize a difference/divergence between them later on. Characters have to justify themselves by bringing something unique to the table, even if that thing is just a 'very different outlook on life' to the rest of the cast. Over time a lot of those character ideas became more fleshed out in my brain, and characters that were cut from the original shortlist made their way back in. They still have to be able to narratively justify themselves in order to earn a channel in the discord though!

For the gitm guys, while I dont have a literal sheet I fill out I do make sure to answer a couple of basic character work questions: What lie do they believe about themselves/the world? How does it impact the way they interact with others? What central theme do they embody most? What do they want more than anything else? How do they feel about humans? Who are they at their best and who are they at their worst? I found that by answering these sort of questions it helped me discover more about them, which creates more questions- rinse and repeat. The more questions I answered the further away they would get from each other in terms of similarities. The thing that really helped with the gitm boys, especially because their origins are so similar, was leaning in to how different their experiences were post-fazco. They are different people because the world has made them that way. Messing around with foils has been useful too! Characters are no fun in a vacuum, it's how they interact with others that makes them interesting. I like to create ones that will bring out the best and the worst in each other. I think about opposites a lot and I really like narrative symmetry- what lessons can the characters learn from each other? I find that stuff super exciting to read so I really wanted to include it. Some examples of character foils in gitm: Fool & Noon, Sombra & Sunspot, Misuta & Sol

When it comes to finding character voice, I do a lot of test drabbles (a couple of them are on this server), which I use to just fuck around until I find something that feels right. For instance- Sol was very very easy to find the voice of, where as Misuta took weeks of rewrites. Sometimes things take time. Spending this time figuring out their voices at the start really helps fic consistence in the long run, I think. Because of all that prep, I don't really have to do anything to 'get into character' when writing their dialogue (it's fairly second nature now).

In regards to coming up with a character's arc, I look at them and their themes and ask 'what the fuck happened to you, dude?' and then 'how has that entrenched a faulty world view on you?' 'what could you be driven to do because of that world view/misunderstanding?' 'what would it take to fix this world view/misunderstanding?' (the last question is the most important one!). Then voila, you have a very loose framework of a (hopepunk) character arc.

In regards to the actual planning of the fic/character arcs, I have a very big miro board (pic attached) that I use for all this! Most of the major character beats are marked out separately to plot beats etc etc. There are still a bunch of bits that only reside in my brain, but I do try to add them to my plan as soon as they become any kind of concrete. All of the characters also have a background chapter (or rather, a series of chapters that form a short story) attached to their arc, that will recontextualise everything you have learned about them so far! I am so deeply looking forward to dropping these (I already have quite a lot written).

I would say that- for your question on character relationships- the answer does come down to being really specific about what you include. Make sure characters are meaningfully different from eachother, give them goals and experiences that clash and then force them to live/work together in the same space. If you have put time into building your characters before that, then you just need to create opportunities for them to get into conflict and bring out the best/worst in eachother. I really do believe that characters are quite boring in a vacuum- which is why I put so much emphasis on including narrative foils ^^ Tyvm for the ask <3

[haerni]

HOW SWEET, “i’m without you”

synopsis: y’know it’s just an old trick && the demon who keeps knocking at your heart knows the formula,, but you won’t fall for it anymore, right ?

ft. lee heeseung, park jongseong, sim jaeyun + park sunghoon. (based on ‘how sweet’ by NewJeans!)

content: fem reader! just hyung line trying to rizz (woo) you up, kind of exes to lovers, they fumbled lol except for jay, lowkey implied toxic relationship, miscommunication trope, subpar dialogues struggling fr, jake & reader has issues fr (10:36 inspo). 2.8k words

— as always minimal proofread and very self indulgent >< & also because i wrote it on a whim.

( 🗯️ ) notes: a very word vomit drabble, haven't written in a long time, my exams are approaching soon this is sort of a lil warm gift from me ! ^_^ can u tell i love jay.. he's literally every eldest daughter's dream :(

JUST STEP OUT YOU LITTLE DEMON IN MY STORYLINE don’t knock on my door, i’ll see you out

this has been too much of an occurrence, a habit that heeseung has grown accustomed to. he knows he shouldn’t, its not acceptable, he knows he’s subjecting himself to a torture that was designed to be his dreams of you.

he should stop, he should leave, yet he finds himself once more at the same blocks of pavements with the exact same four steps up to the porch decorated with flowers that bloom so prettily in the night. and his knuckles hits the same wooden door, eyes dazed, out of his mind, but he knocks.

he knows he doesn’t have any right to be here. to stand in front of your door letting his frame lean on it as he waits for the same footsteps he has memorized.

heeseung prided over being a gentleman, he’s respectful, he knows his boundaries—his place, but right now he’s anything that.

maybe lee heeseung has never been one after you.

he hears the scuffle behind the door, and maybe it was weird that he knows exactly those footfalls, how just sound manages to touch a vile in him, a rush of excitement thrums as he waits the door to creak open. because the other side to where he stands, there you were.

it opens.

there you are—his favorite girl. a frown adorning your face and your eyes reflecting the warm light above your door, “you can't keep doing this, heeseung.”

and a stupid smile makes its way to his face when you call his name. he’s almost thankful he stopped taking the drinks jake kept giving him, it could never even compare the sound he hears now (which he would rather much indulge in).

“hi, baby,” he breathed.

he may or may not remember this night, but he’ll regret it again in the morning.

you scoff at him, “you can’t call me that now, heeseung.” his name felt like acid to his face when you say it that way, but nevertheless lee heeseung lets you burn him—because he deserves it, a faint voice whispers in his head.

“sorry, bad habits.”

what a little liar, he was. because after all, he knows that you know it was, there was never a point for him to utter it in your face.

he doesn’t know what was worse, the venom that kills you or the silence that drowns you? heeseung prefers if you would curse him just a little, maybe he would feel more good with that, maybe it would lessen the guilt that lies heavy in his chest.

but heeseung is addicted, he is addicted to this tryst (you’re not together anymore, he reminds himself) and he still asks you the same question.

“let me in?”

he was bad for you, you knew that. he wonders why you still open your door for him every night his feet takes him to you? you were just as addicted as him, he surmised.

it’s selfish, but he wishes you’d stay the same.

DONE SCROLLING THOUSAND TIMES I KNOW IT’S AN OLD TRICK it’s a very simple formula

for someone who you call as your ex, park jongseong became much more than that to you.

your fallout was something you couldn't call fine, because it isn't. you were a mess—jay wanted to hold you and you can't have yourself fall over the edge just yet.

you weren't ready and he was.

you and jay are the polar opposite of each other. he was put together, he knows what he wants, he has everything, he is secure with himself. and you are simply not everything he was—it was daunting, it scared you and it was stupid. jay loved you all the same, he was perfect and that became bigger than all the good things you call in your relationship with him.

you knew that dating jay would come with perils and problems, you knew them you would both overcome it. but is love really enough to be an answer, when you were the problem itself?

it is incomprehensible to you, how can someone be capable to love this much?

you never asked him, he couldn't give you an answer that you deserve because of it.

it’s unhealthy—you are calling him again. you really shouldn't, you knew your friends would be disappointed. it's ironic how fast you fall in the abyss of darkness, but you couldn't trust yourself to do the same when he asked you to let him catch you. (familiarity was a variable that played a favor over your heart and jay knew that)

the dial tone rings—once, twice, you hear his voice.

“yn, you okay?” it was immediate and it's soft. it's too much. you're convinced you were cursed. you yearn for it, for him.

he waits for you, as he always does. patiently, as you knew him and he hears the breaths you take, the sniffles, he worries more. he tries to call you out once more.

“lov—” he catches himself from saying it, “hey, talk to me, angel.”

“i’m sorry. i don’t know what is wrong with me, ‘seong,” you try to catch your breath, apologizing as soon as you said it.

god, it breaks something in him, “it’s okay, yn. i got you, yeah?” he’s already at the door taking his keys, he doesn’t have any right, but you need him, right? please say it to him, please need him just one more time and let him hold you this time. as soon as he utters his prayers, you whisper.

“can you come to me..” it was so quiet he almost didn’t catch it, “please?” but he’s glad he did.

when he had declared that he would love one person in his life, he vowed and kept it. park jongseong was in it for you, he knew why you broke things off with him, he understood—like all the times he does. you probably didn't know, but he couldn't get himself to remove the picture of you in his bedside. when you called him a week after, he knew he should hang up the call and let you figure things out by yourself, but he didn't. your number stayed as it was before. he should grant you space and time, but he couldn't. because jay loved you so damn much, it's either you or no one else.

be damned all those fears that lingers with you, because park jongseong wants you and only you.

I WON’T ASK ANYMORE (HOW SWEET IT TASTES) you don’t have to tell me now that i’m without you

one thing that jake fails to understand was how much you think he doesn’t need you as much as you need him. he shoots all your words down before they can leave him out alone.

the nights have always been a nightmare for you, not because of the dark veils in the sky, or the monsters that chase you, but because you can’t sleep. you cannot descend to slumber as you would have when you were a child—it was easier then. now warmth was more of a problem for you, it’s a small problem it shouldn’t really be much to be fuzz over it. a stuff toy would’ve solved the problem just fine, it provided you the same security that lulls you into the night.

except that you have found sanctuary in sim jaeyun—a safe haven that envelopes you deeper into sleep, his warm body offers more than security. serenity and heaven sounds just as the same when he holds you in the night.

but everything should always come to an end, doesn’t it?

you don’t know when the peace he had offered cracks through you and it felt like a burden of guilt you couldn’t understand.

“we can’t keep doing this, ‘yunie.”

he doesn’t get you, confused and bewildered at your sudden statement to him when he sat down on your couch. he thinks you’re playing with him, maybe a prank, one of your silly little ideas. because he is sure as hell you didn’t just call your relationship as something like ‘this’, like it wasn’t worth of anything.

“what do you mean, yn?”

the air feels a little heavier, jake knew then that he wouldn’t like what was ever you were going to say. and he does whatever could save him of his position to you, whatever could shut down every rejection you think of. but before he could even dismiss it, this time you beat him to it.

“let’s stop this, jake. stop pretending like you need me.” you say more firmly.

he frowns at that, he doesn’t need you? are you being serious? “i don’t know what you’re talking about, pretty. because i’m pretty damn sure i’m not pretending here.”

you scoff at that. he doesn’t really get it does he? “aren’t you tired? we aren’t anything jaeyun, you’re just someone who helps me sleep at night and i don’t want to take up your time, i don’t want to use you. we’re nothing more, nothing less than this.”

this—jake hates that word now.

why do you keep using it, why are you reducing your relationship as to something less than what it should? why are you pushing him away now? why were you pretending like it’s nothing? why are you not understanding that you’re not the only one who needs something?

“what’s so wrong with this? with us?”

“everything!”

what’s wrong with that? what’s wrong with holding you in the night to sleep? so what if you don’t know what to label it between the boundaries of romantic and platonic? what was wrong with having you? what was wrong leaning to him? to ask him for help?

his eyes tell you everything you need to know that goes in his head, because you’ve known enough to read him. you were friends since you were fifteen and now you don’t know anymore, but you know him. you can’t lean into him anymore—not when, what you feel now steps over the line of what a friend should be.

(it feels weird now, to have the need to hold someone at night, yet you want it. but you can’t tie down jake, you can’t do that to him.)

jake doesn’t understand what the problem was. he knew the risk of what the two of you had agreed, he was willing to bet on every star that he wouldn’t mind for you to have him.

he doesn’t understand but he knows he loves you, “hold me, then. don’t let me go.” he pleads with you.

you can’t.

I’M FEELING MY OWN WAY I’M IN IT ‘CAUSE ME AND YOU ARE DIFFERENT so i won’t stay, i’m leaving

you and sunghoon has always been an intricate of woven patterns, with spools of threads of your color stitch into each of you. both of you are too much of each other. you used to think nothing could ever sever the tapestry the both of you weaved. that was before he was miles away from home and time was not a challenge to the both of you.

all the memories you remember were now bound with his last words before he left, “take care.”

he was called to train internationally, it was big. he was making a name for himself out there and now his name is called over to be known by the world. you’re always happy for him, you’re proud. sunghoon was made to be in the spotlight, he was made to be loved, he was born to be on a stage where he shines. and you think sunghoon looks pretty, he looks pretty when he’s on the rink, skating. he looks so happy there, a place so far yet so near where you can’t step in and reach.

he looks so happy without you and that was okay, you think to yourself. it’s okay, a repeated mantra sounding in your mind as you watch him through a screen.

waiting wasn’t new to you and wanting him more wasn’t either. you don’t really know what is much worse.

there is a space between that bleeds, an indentation of sunghoon in your heart. cold was a familiar company in your darkened nights, his name was like a ghost of an echo in your home.

it’s okay, you remind yourself again. you’re fine with this.

because he looks so happy when he’s not with you, park sunghoon belongs to the world and it makes you sick—even though you know it’s selfish and it’s disgusting to feel something like this—you realize then, you don’t want to be part of that world, just among the sea of faces he’ll forget.

the picture in the frames looks at you with mockery, his side in everything feels hollow and nothing. he is like the ocean that slips past beyond your fingers, but completely engulfs you wholly, having your lungs deluge in it. it pierces through like an arrow, the same ones where you used to believe it was out of love, before everything comes down.

you love park sunghoon, you really do. in the depths of your heart his name was carved gently and carefully.

a name that would solely have your heart beating in a mile, you've never thought it would just end up bleeding, cut open freshly with his own hands, a heart you have given so willingly and with so much trust that you can ever offer in a silver lining platter. to love boundlessly and endlessly until you’re a void of nothing, but a shell of yourself shriveled. but you can’t stop pouring the wine until it overflows—until it’s empty.

you’re not sure where it started, when all the warmth turned cold, where he decided to give up, you're not sure if you can keep fighting.

you never saw it coming, you’re sure the love the both of you had can overcome anything, it can have your relationship stay afloat through all the storms and tides of problems and indecisions, maybe you’re wrong, maybe it was him, maybe it was bound to happen. you’re too hurt to think about it. but a mirage plays in your mind dauntingly, that you can still have those memories you had together, the thread stands on its own, stretching to its limits, the lines dwindle and your hope dies down together with it.

when did his hands drop yours?

the indentation he leaves is noticeable, you can hardly miss it, after all you felt like you were the letter that got crumpled.

his name echoes around the walls of your home (can you still call it a home if it’s devoid of anything?) a mockery to you, his things were, his conspicuous absence, the darkened place of loneliness, the moonlight bleeds into the window, giving your room an illuminated light, it’s suffocating, and somehow the room seems smaller, closer, a cage or walls of once you knew were the sanctuary of comfort, now stands tall as nothing, but a reminder of the fall apart.

the heart of once you have loved was gone and you’re not sure if you’ll be fine by then. were you even sure of anything at all? living with a ghost of a name in your heart, moving on wasn’t always easy to do, but you hope nonetheless, you hope his name would be nothing, but healed scars from all of the distance.

he comes home on a random wednesday with nothing, but his training suit and eyes that you always adore tired and on the verge of falling. a crazed look of apprehension, sunghoon knew you were slipping through his fingers when you wouldn’t answer his calls anymore and the best thing he could think of was to hold you, physically—so you wouldn’t disappear on him.

when he stands in front of you the words don’t appear in front of him, it’s frustrating.

“why can’t you just leave me?”

and god does he wish you wouldn’t say that to him again.

“i can’t,” he whispers, “i tried and i simply can’t.”

when park sunghoon met you, he started dreaming—he was nine summers then. still has the childlike wonder who held admiration and you were eight who live on the other side of the road from his house, he thinks you were pretty.

like a beautiful sunset he always watches with his sister on the seaside, you always seem to be there for him anyway, catching a glimpse of your face on the side of his eyes. his coach always scolds him for being distracted in the rink, he only responds with,

“sorry, coach. i’ll do better.” he wanted to impress you back then. (he still does.)

the sun shines so brightly it doesn’t miss how it always seems to reflect your smile. laughing at something your friend has told you, he wonders what it was.

back then the two of you didn’t really talk much at first, always the brief gaze at each and little waves. but nothing more, he wishes to talk to you on other days, when the time is slow and the breeze washes all the heat from his face, but he doesn’t, always hesitating, almost made encounters, but by the end of it he’ll just back out the last minute.

it’s almost a surprise how he even managed to call you his, park sunghoon has loved you since the ninth of summer.

you still love him despite everything.

he thinks you are still pretty until now, wearing his old jersey with his name on it on the sidelines, cheering him on top of your voice, he decided right then that he would like to have you always there for him.

—fin.

｡｡｡ ♥︎ likes, comments & reblogs are highly appreciated! hope y'all like this, i went a lil crazy on hoon ㅠㅠ.

[creamhoodie]

Home To You

A/N: Drabble about dating Kento Nanami, he's away on a mission, phone sex, more fluff than anything, not really dialogue driven more narration driven

Protective. 

That’s the adjective that always comes to your mind when thinking of how to describe your boyfriend, Kento Nanami. 

The two of you had only been dating a year but boyfriend felt like too casual of a word to describe what he was to you, it was too juvenile of a word as well. Nanami was different from past boyfriends, he was grounded, more mature and serious about the relationship. 

“You can call me your suitor or lover if you’d like,” he had told you once between placing kisses down the trail of your neck, as he was fond of doing. So a lover to you he was. In the beginning he had admitted to you that he had been hesitant to take on a relationship given his work as a jujutsu sorcerer was both laborious and dangerous. He had always wanted to settle down but the idea of leaving behind the woman he loved should he ever not return home made him feel immense guilt. Fear couldn’t stop love however, and like a moth to flame he had been drawn to your warmth and kindness.

You, who he had met through a chance encounter at a coffee shop. You had ordered before him, coincidentally ordering his usual coffee of choice before settling down with said drink to type away at your laptop. He had thought you were beautiful the first time he ever saw you and you had thought he was handsome as well. Though it took about six routine encounters of this nature before he had finally decided to speak with you. He had made some joke about the two of you frequenting the shop so often and ordering the same drink, light banter about who had copied who had played out. Before he knew it you had made your way into his heart and there was no getting you out. 

On your first real date he had been transparent with you. 

“You fascinate me. I want to get to know you more but I need to let you know that being involved with me runs its own risks that I can’t in good faith keep hidden from you,” he had said. 

“Is that so?” you inquired. You knew a little of him already, about his previous employment as a stockbroker and based on this lavish restaurant with French cuisine he had brought to you, it was easy to estimate he was financially set. 

He had leaned forward, deep brown eyes peering at you from above his interesting frames. That’s when he had laid it all on you, the truth about the jujutsu sorcerer world. He already knew you couldn’t see curses with you having ignored a pathetic low level one that had clung to your dress earlier that night (he had eliminated it when you weren’t looking). Moreover, he didn’t sense a hint of cursed energy from you. You were perfectly normal. You could afford to look away and turn your back to his world, the way he had tried to but his morality and conscience had pulled him back in. 

“So you understand being with me has its risks. My enemies could try to use you as leverage against me. I want you to know I’d always do my utmost to protect you, but this is the situation you need to be aware of should you choose to continue to see me,” he had said fully expecting you to call him crazy, after all humans like you who couldn’t see curses didn’t know of them. The knowledge of the world of sorcery wasn’t common at all; only selected individuals were cursed with that burden, and now here he was pulling you, sweet innocent you into his world of peril and risk. 

Rather than calling for him to be committed, you had simply leaned in the way he had done telling him: “I’m not afraid.” 

Then he had made love to you that very night. It wasn’t his typical fashion to make love so soon as he didn’t want it to seem as he only wanted you for your body but the attraction between the two of you was so strong, a flickering candle that threatened to burst into a forest fire. In the end, he hadn’t been able to help himself. 

You had been just an equal of a participant, your hand having rested on his lap throughout dinner and never breaking contact with his own intense eyes. 

Those eyes that as he had made love to you, you were at last able to see full on without his peculiar lenses. In his dark room, lit only from the city lights shining in through the window of his penthouse apartment, fully undressed with his hair slicking down on his forehead he looked younger and more wild. He was chivalrous in bed, the focus on your pleasure yet he was still every bit as passionate as a man that had been craving this skin to skin contact for so long. His kisses were tongue filled and intoxicating, his strokes long and rhythmic each bringing you two closer to the climax of your symphony. 

Afterwards, when the two of you were laying in bed together, your face nuzzled into his chest as he stroked your hair, a thought occurred to him: who would protect you when he was away?

“I need to teach you some things, so you can defend yourself,” he said. 

From then on, he had given you a crash course of sorts about curses, their grade level and what to expect. Though you had no cursed energy of your own, he had insisted you keep at least two weapons imbued with cursed energy with you. One of the weapons was discreet enough to accompany you throughout the day in your purse. The other resided in his penthouse where you had moved in with him and it offered extra assurance for when he had to go away. 

Times like now. 

“Doors locked? Stove off?” He asked you over the phone.

“Yes, Kento,” you replied, settling down on the leather couch. These questions of his were routine check ups every night that he was gone and you were used to it. 

“What about the cursed weapons?” He asked. 

“I have them with me,” you replied, knowing they were underneath your shared bed as always. 

“Good girl and you have Gojo on speed dial?” he asked this last question, voice tight. He wasn’t particularly fond of his fellow sorcerer and he was even less fond of soliciting another man’s help in your protection, but Satoru Gojo wasn’t any ordinary man and if it meant you were safe then that was all that mattered. So despite being notoriously private, he had opened up to his white haired peer about his relationship with you and entrusted you in his care should an emergency arise while he was away. Gojo had been eager to oblige and maybe entrusting you with him was the truest testament for how much faith he had in the blue eyed sorcerer because you were more precious to Nanami than the blood in his veins. 

“Yes, Kento I do,” you replied. 

“That’s my good girl,” he said, finally allowing himself to breathe.

Always the same questions every night he was away, and it was always the same answers but they were the medicine he needed to soothe his worries, otherwise he wouldn’t be able to sleep.

“Kento I miss you. It’s so lonely here without you,” you said.

Your voice was like honey and he could just imagine you, so small in comparison to him, curled up in either the bed or couch. 

“I miss you too. Every moment I’m away from you is excruciating,” he said truthfully. The hotel he was staying at was no substitute for his bed back home with you. 

He heard the shift in your breathing. Prompting him to ask: “are you touching yourself my darling?” 

“Yes,” you replied shyly at having been caught. 

He chuckled. 

“Keep going, you deserve to feel so good. You know I’d never deny you pleasure,” he said. He began to palm at himself through his pants, already sensing a hint of pre forming on the tip of his cock.

“Doesn’t feel as good as when you do it though, Kento,” you whined, though your panting let him know you were following his instruction to pleasure yourself all the same. 

He unzipped his pants, slipping his cock out of his boxers until he held it in his hand. As suspected, a waning drop of precum coated his pink base. 

“Believe me, angel I know. I miss your touch as well,” he said through gritted teeth. 

“Should have taken me with ‘chu,” you said, words slurring into moans as you played with yourself. 

You had pitched that idea to him before, but the risk of you getting harmed in a mission was not one he was willing to take. He’d never forgive himself if you got hurt. 

All the same, with the way you were making him feel, he agreed that he wished you were here, lapping at the drop of pre that had dripped down his length. Oh how he’d love to have your mouth wrapped around him now like so many times before. 

“Ah-careful darling you’re making me regret leaving you behind,” he teased as he stroked himself. He imagined it was your hand getting him off, though his large veiny hand ruined the illusion yours were much more small and soft. 

His phone took the dial tone letting him know it was prompting him to accept a video call. 

Little minx, he thought to himself. 

He accepted the video chat. 

And there you sat, on the leather couch. The camera was facing your spread legs so he had a full view of your exposed sex as you fingered yourself. 

“Kento..” you moaned his name softly. 

He cursed, biting his lip so hard it drew blood as he continued to stroke himself. He flipped the camera so you could watch as he pleasured himself as well. 

“Look at what you do to me,” he said grunting at the sensitivity of the act. 

He was usually so well put together, a man of dignity, but only you were his undoing. 

“Want it inside me so bad,” you moaned. Trust, he wanted to be inside of you as well, he was addicted to the deep warmth only your cunt could provide. It was why despite working long hours and unpredictable overtime, he always made sure to sink himself into you. 

“Soon. When I get home it will be. Rub your clit for me,” he commanded. 

You did so, his name spilling from your lips in a completely desperate and frantic manner. He stroked himself faster now intent on finishing at the same time as you. 

“Kento.. so fucking close,” you whimpered.

“I know- ah fuck- I am too,” he replied, sounding every bit as lustful as you. 

It happened simultaneously, the two of you reaching your orgasm, and he let out a shaky grunt as his cum came in bursts. 

“I miss you so much, Kento,” you whispered, your voice had a hint of melancholy to it. 

“I miss you too,” he said. He didn’t mind the mess he had made because of you (even though before you he would have found it rather tedious) instead he found himself wishing you were here. That’s a bridge he could never cross though, your safety was everything and he couldn’t ever risk you being hurt. So instead the two of you would partake in this little dance: the routine questions and answers on the phone and the call of pleasuring each other.

“I love you. I know it’s hard right now but I’ll come home to you. I promise.”

And it’s a promise he intended to keep no matter what, because you made everything worth it. While his heart beats and as long as he has breath he’d find his way home to you.

[goodday-goodmorn]

Rahhhh it’s Christmas and i’m back! Today’s feature (feature? Should i start calling them that? Sounds kinda cool-) is the amazing @charliemwrites, specifically a little drabble (unedited as always), based off of their Keeper/Kept AU. Not thier most recent stuff- (I think it’s Neighbor Johnny or the Woof Woof series-) You know what? Just- Here. Everything they write is gold <3

Anyhow, i present: Domesticity and Devotion

“Oh to be a wild bird…”

You sigh, chin in your palm as you leisurely stare out at the window.

“Or a stray cat.” You muse, watching as one of the kitties of the neighborhood walks along outside.

“Those fuckers have it good. No shitty job. No rent to pay. Just free pets and wandering the world… and if someone’s being a dick they can hiss and bite all they want.”

You hum, reaching for your drink and sipping on it leisurely.

“I don’t think I could survive in the wild though.”

You say after a moment, realizing how you’re cuddled up in your blanket and sipping on your wendy’s lemonade, the TV playing some random comfort show and your laptop open as you halfheartedly play Papa's freezeria.

“Can barley survive in domesticity.” You mumble, glancing towards the envelope on the kitchen counter that you got this morning about a rent increase.

You sigh.

“Maybe in my next life i’ll be lucky enough to be reborn as some rich white ladies cat. Those fuckers are livin’ better than me that’s for sure.”

————

This is not what you meant.

When you wistfully wished to never have to step foot into the capitalist hellscape that was life again- that was not an open invitation for you to be whisked away against your will.

Apparently though, the 6 foot giant of a military man named Simion Riley, heard it as one.

Because now here you were, pampered and cared for like a bloody sugar baby or pure breed persian cat. Kept at some random location and fed and groomed and meticulously attended too.

All against your will, mind you.

However it’s hard to complain because well- you’re living life good. This realization, of just how good you have it- hits you when you feel yourself getting genuinely angry at the shitty romance novel you were reading.

The Male lead was treating the MC like shit- and the MC was letting him get away with it!

You feel your face physically grimace. To calm yourself down (because you are getting genuinely heated when she lets him shove her to the damn floor over asking him for a drink-), you set your i-pad down.

(It had been a gift; something sort of like a kindle, where you could only read books and listen to music. You weren’t sure what Simon did to it exactly- but it wasn’t just published books you had access too, comics, original works, poetry, you could get all sorts of reading stuff on here.)

“This mother fucker-“

You mumble to yourself in disbelief, shaking your head before huffing and picking the device back up. You’re close to cheering as you read the MC’s internal dialogue about wanting to bite his ass- (Truely an MC after your own heart- they were one of the main reasons you were still reading this shitshow-)

And yet, what does the main character do?

They get the drink for themselves and then let him snatch it from their hand and down it.

Nope. You’re fucking done. You’re fumin’ now, irrationally angry on the MC’s behalf because they’ve been putting up with this guy for fifteen chapters now.

The audacity of men- oh my god. You can’t believe this guy.

“Who does he think he is?!”

You grumble and then just for your own purposes you yell—

“Simon!”

Predictably he is at your side in a moment, dropping everything for you.

You have your arms crossed, as you say, “Go get me a drink.”

He tilts his head slightly, eyes crinkled just a tad at your strange mood but doesn’t deny the order. Simply asks,

“Cold or hot?”

“Cold.”

And with that he’s gone, returning with a fresh glass of ice cold lemonade, complete with a little lemon slice on the rim of the glass. You sip it, set it aside and cross your leg, tapping your forehead.

“Give me a kiss.”

He doesn’t hesitate for a moment, gently kissing your forehead.

“Kneel.”

His eyes are crinkled now with a bit of amusement, but he drops to his knees easy. Gently holding onto your soft thighs. (Always so gentle with you.)

“Course, pretty.”

He mumbles low, head tilted up to you in a question, “Need me to take care of you?”

You hum, absentmindedly messing with his hair and ignoring the way the question sends a slow pool of warmth into your tummy.

“No.”

It’s decisive. You’re practically preening with satisfaction at his actions.

“You can go now.” You say and like that, he gets up. Not a complaint on his lips even when you notice he’s got a raging boner.

“Wait!”

You call and he pauses, looking at you with a questioning hum.

“Kiss me again.”

And he does so, this time a soft gentle kiss on your lips. When he pulls away he mumbles an ever softer-

“Dinner will be ready in 10.”

You nod and pick up your tablet with satisfaction curling low in your gut. (For the duration of your reading all you can think about is how Simion would never.)

————

“And another thing-!”

Simion is absentmindedly (as absentmindedly as Simion of all people can get anyway-) rubbing circles into your back as you rant. You’re sat in his lap, coaxed into sitting there after he asked about your day.

So obviously you started to babble about the book you were reading, which turned into a whole rant session about how stupid the Male lead was.

“That stupid idiot- that moron- you wanna know what he does simion?”

He knows it’s a rhetorical question. You’re gonna tell him anyway. Still he hums to show he’s still listening.

“This bastard shoves them into the ground. To the ground! Can you believe the it?”

He shakes his head lightly with a tsk.

“Exactly. God and then when they get the drink he has the audacity to snatch it from their hand and down it in one gulp before they can even say anything.”

You shake your head, so far into your little rant you don’t realize how much you’ve made yourself comfortable. Sitting in his lap fully, ranting to him like he’s an old friend. Your tongue is loose with comfort right now. And that must be what possessed you to say—

“Me personally? I could never. If you ever pulled that shit— God i don’t even know what i’d do but it would not be pretty

You close your eyes with a nod to yourself at your own words. Not aware of the way Simon’s eyes seem to soften. Not until he gently kisses the top of your head.

“Never.”

He says it so quietly you almost miss it. (Feverintly. Reverently. Like the very idea is absurd.)

“If i ever do something like that you run and break into my gun cabinet and bloody shoot me.”

And god his voice- he’s 100 percent fucking serious. Suddenly you feel warm and small in his lap, utterly tiny compared to the sheer size of his devotion for you.

It’s all you can do to mumble out a weak.

“Good.”

And the rest of the night is spent with you reading the rest of the book together. When the MC finally is able to get rid of the Male Lead, it is a joyous occasion that ends up with her absolutely clocking the guy in the face with a champagne glass. Which then leads into a curious conversation with you and ghost about how much damage that would actually do.

It’s a good day.

[thelazyhermits]

After reading the first TWST novel and seeing how Yuu/Grim's first meeting with Ace went there, I decided to write a drabble about how that encounter went with my Yuu, which I'll put underneath the cut.

Also, I've gone back and edited An Unlikely Team as well as Grim/Ace's chapters in An Unlikely Friendship, although there was only a minor edit in Grim's chapter as compared to Ace's chapter which got a whole different dialogue added in the final scene thanks to me getting inspired by the novel.

I hope y'all enjoy the new content! 😊💕

He’s definitely up to something.

That was the first thought that crossed your mind upon meeting Ace Trappola, a first-year student who introduced himself after approaching you and Grim while you both were studying the seven statues on Main Street that, for some reason, look exactly like popular Disney villains.

Grim, however, obviously felt differently since, ever since Ace showed up, he’s been amicably chatting with the redhead about the statues, all the while not looking the least bit suspicious of Ace.

Meanwhile, you’ve been working on cleaning the surrounding area, which is the job that had been assigned to both you and that procrastinating monster, because you really don’t want to risk getting in trouble with Crowley for not doing your job since said job is the reason you now have a free place to stay as well as a means to make money for food and everything else you'll need to survive in this strange, foreign world you've somehow found yourself in.

Plus, you had wanted to put some space between you and Ace since you don’t trust him and that fake smile of his, especially since he’s wearing the kind of fake smile that looks so genuine that only someone like you who’s grown up surrounded by adults, who use their professional fake smiles to take advantage of others for a living, would be able to see through his façade.

The whole time you’ve been cleaning, you’ve been surreptitiously scrutinizing Ace, trying to figure out what his hidden agenda is, all while simultaneously listening carefully to all the information he provides about the statues - information that matches well with what you know about the Disney villains they resemble.

Except for the fact that everything Ace says makes these villains sound like actual decent people who are worth revering rather than the scoundrels they were in the movies from your world.

Every time you hear Ace compliment the people the statues are based on, you have to fight the urge to scoff since so much of what he says is just so difficult for you to believe.

I can’t believe these villains’ stories got so twisted that they became people who are seriously revered in this world. You incredulously shake your head. Even worse, the Queen of Hearts’ story is pretty much the same as it was in Alice in Wonderland, meaning these people seriously didn’t mind a crazy queen who decapitates people as a regular form of punishment.

Just what kind of world have you found yourself in?

You wearily massage your temple. Hopefully, all that nonsense is just a part of this world’s history and not its present. Otherwise, I’ll need to steer clear of the part of the world where the Queen of Hearts reigned for the sake of my own well-being, although I can’t see myself leaving this school anytime soon, considering traveling requires money among many other things.

Obviously, I’ll need to do some more research on this subject. You muse. If I’m gonna survive in this crazy world, I need to learn as much about it as I can since knowledge is power.

Plus, you’re genuinely curious about this world’s “Great Seven” and want to see if there are any more commonalities between them and the movie villains from your world whom they so greatly resemble.

“Pretty cool, huh? Not like some piddling weasel.”

You’re abruptly pulled away from your thoughts when Ace’s previously friendly and cheerful voice suddenly becomes noticeably cold and malicious.

While Grim makes a surprised sound, you quickly focus your now narrowed gaze on the redhead. So he’s finally making his move. It’s about time. Now, I’ll finally find out what his deal is since I couldn’t get any clues from his earlier behavior when I was watching him.

“Pfft! Ah ha ha! I can't hold it back anymore!” Ace declares as he starts laughing, hard enough that he doubles over. “It’s too funny! I can’t breathe!”

For several seconds, his loud, wild laughter fills the air, and during this time, you give Ace an unimpressed look while Grim just stares at him with wide eyes, appearing stunned.

Once he eventually manages to compose himself, Ace wipes away the tears of mirth from his eyes. “Come on, you're the ones who turned orientation into a fiasco, right?”

“You two seriously stand out.” Ace sneers as he points at you. “A total normie, the perfect punchline to a disappointing joke. Every eye in the school focused on you last night, and you can’t even use a drop of magic.”

Completely unfazed by his mocking words, you maintain your unimpressed expression, which you can tell bothers him because his face briefly appears annoyed when you don’t give him the kind of reaction that you know he was hoping for.

Since he clearly won’t have any fun with you as his target, Ace quickly moves onto his next one and points at Grim. “And a monster who wasn’t even summoned by the Dark Mirror in the first place but crashed orientation anyway and got beaten to a pulp by my dorm leader.”

Wearing a cold smile, Ace gives both you and Grim a once-over before saying, “You’re perfect for each other.”

“W-What are ya-” Grim briefly stammers before scowling, “Ya don't gotta be a jerk! Comin' at us all of a sudden like this!”

“It’s not all of a sudden, dude.” Ace smirks, “The look on your face when they picked you up and tossed you out was hilarious! It took everything I had not to burst into laughter right in the middle of the ceremony!”

After giving you and the cleaning equipment that’s beside you a particularly withering look, Ace snickers, “So, in the end, neither of you got admitted, and now, you're janitors? SO lame!”

Upon realizing that Ace seriously is only here to taunt you and Grim, the tension in your frame eases as you roll your eyes. Really? That’s it? I was worried he might be someone secretly dangerous since his fake smile is so convincing, like the ones I always saw back in my world, but he’s really just an immature brat. I don’t know if I should be relieved or disappointed.

In direct contrast to you, who has calmed down now that you’ve realized Ace is no threat to you, Grim becomes increasingly more irritated. “Shaddup, you! I’m gonna be a student at this school in no time!”

“Nuh-uh! No way!” Ace shakes his head. “You're so clueless you don't even know who the Great Seven are. Not a one of them! Maybe before you try getting into the academy again, you ought to take a second crack at kindergarten?”

Unable to help yourself, you dryly retort, “Really? YOU’RE the one who’s saying someone should go back to kindergarten - the grade that so obviously suits you way better?”

Caught off guard since you’ve been silent pretty much the whole time he’s been here, Ace, along with Grim, turns to look at you in surprise.

Soon after, Ace’s surprise turns into annoyance. “And what’s THAT supposed to mean?”

You raise an eyebrow. “Isn’t it obvious? Even though you could’ve been doing way more productive things with your time, you instead went out of your way to come taunt us ‘cause you hated how much attention we got thanks to the orientation fiasco, like an immature, jealous brat.”

“Not only that, you’re getting in our way when we have work to do.” You huff before making a shooing gesture. “So can you just leave already? I have way more important things to do than listen to someone whose opinions I don’t give a damn about.”

Once he overcomes his surprise, Grim starts guffawing, “Way to tell him, Henchman! That’ll teach that jealous brat not to mess with the Great Grim! Myahaha!”

“I am NOT jealous!” Ace scowls, ���Why the hell would I be jealous of losers like you two who are only still around ‘cause you got lucky enough to get a job cleaning up all of the WAY more important people’s trash?!”

After saying that, Ace angrily stomps over to where you’re standing and jabs a finger at your chest, glaring all the while. “You have a lotta nerve looking down on me when I actually earned my place here fair and square after working my ass off, unlike you who just waltzed right in and did whatever you pleased. A magicless loser like you has no place at this school, so get off your damn high horse already before you get knocked off.”

Completely unfazed by his anger since you’ve gone up against far scarier people in Japan’s underworld, you boredly swat away his finger. “I’m not looking down on you.”

Faster than he can react, you reach out and grab onto Ace’s shoulder with a tight enough grip that makes him cry out in pain.

Using your grip on his shoulder, you push down with enough strength to force the redhead, whom you quickly realize has no real fighting experience, to his knees.

In hopes that he will refrain from bothering you and Grim in the future if you give him a scary enough warning, you fiercely glare down at the shocked boy who’s now kneeling before you. “NOW, I am, and if you don’t want to end up in way worse shape, I highly recommend that you leave me and Grim alone and just focus on your studies like a good little student.”

As expected, upon being on the receiving end of your heated glare, Ace flinches and becomes noticeably paler.

Unfortunately, it would seem Ace Trappola is not as smart as you had originally thought he was since, rather than follow his instincts, which have surely identified you as an opponent he has no hope of ever beating by this point, Ace, whose fear quickly turns into ire, instead immediately shoots back up to his feet and tries to grab you by the collar of your hoodie. “You arrogant bastard! Don’t you dare make fun of me!”

Naturally, you smoothly avoid his hands since he’s nowhere near fast enough to grab hold of an experienced fighter like you.

“Alright, Henchman, you’ve done your part! Now, it’s time for your amazing boss to take over! Myaaaaah!”

Catching you and Ace off guard, Grim, who had been laughing on the sidelines up until this point, decides to get in on the action and proceeds to use his fire magic on Ace who just barely manages to avoid Grim’s fireball attack.

“Whoa!” Ace exclaims before turning to scowl at Grim. “What are you doing?!”

Grim smirks, “Now that my henchman’s had a turn, it’s time for me to dole out some payback ‘cause no one makes fun of Grim, Master of Fire, and gets away with it! I'll make ya regret messin’ with me!”

Ace scoffs, “You wanna throw down with me, shorty? You got some guts.”

Realizing that the two boys look like they seriously intend to fight, you face-palm. This is not what I was hoping to accomplish when I tried to intimidate Ace. If I had known this would happen, I wouldn’t have done anything to him.

Just when you think this situation couldn’t possibly get any more exasperating, several NRC students, who had been on their way to class, start approaching the area where you, Grim, and Ace are, obviously curious about what’s going on between Grim and Ace.

Upon realizing that a fight is about to happen, the crowd of boys starts jeering and cheering, earning themselves an exasperated look from you. Boys…

Deciding it’s better to ignore the crowd for now, you quickly get in between Grim and Ace. “Enough! Grim, you can’t use your magic to fight here! If you cause any property damage, we’ll both get in serious trouble with the Headmage, and I do NOT wanna have to deal with that! And I bet you won’t be happy either when your tuna funds get taken away!”

Much to your annoyance, rather than heed your words, Grim scurries around you, moving fast enough that you can’t catch him. “Relax, Henchman! The only thing gettin’ damaged here is Ace’s ugly mug! Myahaha!”

Right after saying that, Grim launches another fireball at Ace. Unfortunately for the monster, his attack misses its mark just like it did last time, although it’s because of a completely different reason.

Instead of moving to dodge the attack like he did earlier, Ace, after pulling out what looks like a pen with a red gem on it, summons a gust of wind that knocks away Grim’s fireball before it can reach him. 

Ace smirks, “Ha! How do you like that?”

As Grim complains about Ace blowing away his fireballs and the redhead taunts him in return, you just blink. Huh, guess magic can control elements here like it can on TV back in my world. Good to know.

Seconds after that thought crosses your mind, realization suddenly dawns on your now pale features. Wait a minute. Fire and wind together? Oh no…

Realizing that this is a recipe for disaster, you shout, “Both of you, stop! If you keep mixing fire and wind magic together, you’ll-!”

Before you can finish that sentence, Grim, who has chosen to completely ignore you, angrily fires off another fireball at Ace, which the redhead once again blows away with his wind magic.

Unfortunately, unlike last time, the fire doesn’t simply get diverted to an area where it can’t harm anyone. This time, it hits a target.

The worst possible target.

Horrified, you watch as Grim’s attack, which became stronger thanks to Ace's wind magic fanning its flames, just as you had feared would happen, lands a direct hit on the Queen of Hearts’ statue, causing the statue to become completely engulfed in flames. Oh, shit. We are so screwed...

And, of course, you were exactly right.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

Poll Results

I can say I'm surprised with how this went, lol. Tbh I expected Simon to win just because of general popularity, but I'm so excited I get to go back to the original reason this blog was created and that is for my main man - Captain John Price.

So! Here are the poll results:

Character: John Price

Base Plot: Rescue Mission

Dialogue Prompt: "Is that your blood or mine?"

Reader's job/Lifestyle: In the SAS/Service/141

Ending Selection: Happy Ending

But...surprise! I'm actually going to be writing two of these since I missed the chance to do a 6k Event and I really want to, lol. I'll be taking all of the second-most-voted options and writing a fic with those.

The results for those are:

Character: Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish

Base Plot: Fake Marriage/Dating

Dialogue Prompt: "Hurry up and kiss me."

Reader's job/Lifestyle: Civilian

Ending Selection: Bittersweet

Before I start writing these, I have to edit and post the next chapter of Ravishing Allure as well as post the last of my 5k drabbles! Those will, most likely, be out sometime today unless something else comes up.

Thank you so much to everyone who participated, I'm really excited to get to work on these!!

Kinda want to write a Simon interrogation fic with a rogue soldier reader too...

[pinkpastels113]

Hi hey for the love of God hello, I am here to ask fic recs but specifically the ones that YOU wrote. What are some fics you're proud of?? I'm giving the grabby hands

oh adsgdkh uhhh im really bad at rec'ing my own fics (esp bc i never got to finish some of them and feel bad about it or bc i would just forget about them lmfao) but here goes:

darlin' can i be your favorite?

my most recent bechloe fic featuring stripper!chloe where beca is still an awkward lil bean who got a Spicy lap dance in chapter 2 :) it's actually loosely based on a true life experience HAHA but i never got the Ending that beca will, let's say

why am i still writing pages?

a collection of most of my drabble works and one-shots from tumblr that came from prompts, the ethers of the universe, and ask memes. it's mostly au with a lot of the chapters centered around one particular line of dialogue

i can feel the flames on my skin (crimson red paint on my lips)

vamp!chloe fic that i started bc of pp spookfest!! i really do hope i will get to continue this (in a way that i and everyone else will like) sigh

i think (s)he knows

starbucks barista!chloe meets mechanic!beca who is there to fix the broken espresso machine that i kinda want to continue/update if yall are up for it? for bechloe week 2022 "ma'am this is starbucks"

but i think you're pretty too

cute lil high school au where beca asks popular girl chloe to prom

3am (i might be looking for a late night friend) 

the one angst fic that everyone yelled at me for adgask based on “I want to sit on a kitchen counter in my underwear at 3am with you and kiss the hell out of you.” also might continue?? if people want?

i threw a wish in the well (i looked to you as it fell)

meet-cute in a mall bc beca's being silly <33

Talk Numbers To Me

math genius!beca helps a struggling chloe with her homework

Give Me a Shot

covid au featuring doctor!chloe. another meet-cute with background staubrey

edit, i just went through my pp works again and am also proud of this one:

now i’m wide awake (i only see daylight)

another drabble collection from a “sleeping and waking up” dialogue writing prompt list that i reblogged on tumblr a couple years ago!! it’s all v fluffy trust 🤚

[astridthevalkyrie]

Do you have any favorite Jumin x MC fics? I keep re-reading yours bc it’s so damn good

omg thank you!! that fic was in my wips for months i'm so happy people like all my self indulgent jumin fantasies lol

here are some i like on ao3 (and pre mha brainrot i read so many fucking jumin fics on ao3 it's insane):

cherry wine - really soft, really sweet, and realistic. i love rika but i cannot imagine being the new girl that everyone treats like her replacement.

I Can Give You Heaven - takes place on jumin's birthday and god oh my god i can't speak this fic is so good. perfect mixture of fluff and smut and ridiculously soft jumin.

Welcome Home, Master - yeah you know what this is based on the title LMFAO but anyways if you're one of the people into the jumin petplay thing this fic is for you. delicious 👏🏽 fuckin 👏🏽 smut

Sweeter Than The Finest - another really good smut fic featuring office sex. this author also has a couple other fantastic jumin fics, including yet another birthday sex one that i've read an unhealthy amount (i like the idea of spoiling him for his birthday??? sue me???)

Jumin's Call - jumin listens in on you and zen and it's the hottest thing ever and simulataneously the angstiest thing ever.

Purple Hearts and Tear Drops - LOVE this fic. ugh. i have a particular weakness for jumin x mc in v's route with all the angst potential and this fic delivers and goes above and beyond delivering

Unattainable - kinda retelling of jumin's route but with the twist that jumin is already married to sarah. very very good pining and buildup and it makes me tingly. also gives some much needed nuance to sarah and villainizes her a little less.

After End and Temporal Love - so this is probably my favorite mysme fanfic it's the best i've seen that utilizes the reset theory. equal parts seven/mc and jumin/mc (although the second part is just jumin/mc drabbles that take place in the universe) and just. good. good dialogue, good humor, good character stuff. jumin in this is just. sighhhhh. husband material <3 as always <3