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[smuttyandabsurd]

On the Cusp of Blooming (Netherlands x Indonesia)

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia Pairing: Indonesia/Netherlands Rating: Explicit Word Count: 907 Additional tags: Flowers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, Kissing, Gentle Kissing, Neck Kissing, Rough Kissing, Roughness, Tenderness, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot

Summary: Netherlands surprises Indonesia with an unannounced visit.

Heartfelt thanks to @eruverse for her support and ceaseless encouragements. I really enjoy our chats together about NedIndo ❤️

Read it on AO3.

“They said you would be here,” said the Netherlands. In his pale hand he held a bouquet of brightly coloured tulips, the buds on the cusp of blooming.

Indonesia closed the distance between them in two, three quick strides. He threw his arms over Netherlands’ (tall, lean, firm) shoulders and dragged him down for a kiss. Lips locked together, hands wrapped around one another, the two staggered in an ungainly tangle of limbs across the width of the garage until they bumped into the workbench set against the wall.

With lithe ease, Indonesia slid up onto the counter on his bum. Netherlands’ hands fumbled at the waistband of Indonesia’s tracksuit bottoms, his white long fingers hooking in and pulling down, cool against Indonesia’s heated flesh. Indonesia lifted his hips and shimmied eagerly out of his pants. His own hands, clad in work gloves, clawed at the collar of Netherlands’ shirt, wanting to tear it off.

“You’re getting motor oil all over me,” Netherlands murmured, his tone genial. Deftly, he caught Indonesia by his wrists and pulled them to one side. Indonesia writhed bodily as his hands snatched futilely at thin air.

“Want you… need you… to touch you…” he keened.

Netherlands’ lips twitched into a near imperceptible smile. Pinning Indonesia’s hands above his head, he leaned over and pressed their lips together in a deep kiss. He could feel Indonesia acquiescing underneath him, appeased, but his body still quivered like a tightly strung cord.

Reaching down with his free hand, Netherlands palmed at the growing erection in between Indonesia’s legs. A sharp gasp escaped Indonesia’s kiss-swollen lips.

“F-fuck!” he hissed. His eyes fluttered shut as he thrust desperately into Netherlands’ hand.

Matching his urgency, Netherlands wrapped his hand around Indonesia’s cock and squeezed, which incited a delicious whimper from the latter. He thumbed at the frenulum and swiped over the head of Indonesia’s glans, thinly spreading the pre-cum that was beading at the tip. Indonesia jerked at the touch and attempted to wrest his hands out of Netherlands’ grasp.

“Unhand me!” he snarled, his eyes black and wild.

Bucking bodily, he kicked out at the Netherlands – a move that was impeded by his pants scrunched around his feet. Netherlands simply held him down by his thigh. The sound Indonesia emitted at being thwarted was downright animalistic.

“Don't fight me,” Netherlands murmured, his tone still light, but there was an echo of the colonial master slipping in, unbidden and commanding.

And, in answer to a resurfacing habit, Indonesia fell limp, pliant.

Obedient.

“Good boy.”

Indonesia swallowed his shame as a stab of lust went straight to his groin.

Netherlands’ hand worked slowly, achingly slowly, to stoke his arousal. From the base to the tip, Netherlands massaged Indonesia’s length until it was practically weeping. A trickle of cum, thick and white and sticky, slid into Netherlands’ palm. He slicked it along Indonesia’s cock and began pumping in earnest.

Indonesia was trembling so hard that his breath came out in short, jerky, hitching gasps. He hung his head and let out a little whimper of want. A tight, coiling sensation was growing in the pit of his stomach… he was close… and it would have been easy, so perfectly wonderfully simple, to give in to Netherlands’ ministrations…

With a burst of determination, Indonesia wrenched his hands free of Netherlands’ grasp and, capitalising on Netherlands’ surprise, hooked his arms around his neck and pulled him down so their faces were mere inches apart.

“I want you too,” he said breathlessly. “Please, you too… you too, sayang…”

Netherlands’ jaw clenched. Suddenly, he pushed Indonesia down onto the counter. His hand paused mid-stroke on Indonesia’s dick, causing the latter to let out an unhappy whimpering protest. With his free hand, he undid the fly of his trousers and brought out his own achingly hard cock.

Indonesia watched with bated breath as Netherlands aligned their cocks together and resumed stroking.

The heat, the hardness, the sheer glorious velvety sensation… It was almost too much. Throwing back his head, Indonesia let out a low moan of uninhibited pleasure. As Netherlands dipped down and nipped at his bared throat, Indonesia’s clawing hands found purchase on the back of his shirt, his fingernails scratching uselessly within the confines of his gloves.

It wasn’t long before Indonesia came with a shuddering groan. His release spurted in small wet ropes that adorned the chest and torso of his grease-stained singlet – as well as the side of his chin. The sight of the stray cum on Indonesia’s face – pearly white on sun-kissed skin – pushed Netherlands to finish, and he came too with a muted grunt.

The two paused to catch their breaths as they climbed down from the giddying heights of their climax. Netherlands rested his forehead on Indonesia’s as they shared the sparse air between them. Then, Indonesia pulled away and flopped uncomfortably back onto the work counter. His chest heaved. He was hot and sticky all over with sweat and spend, and he yearned deeply for a cold bath.

Netherlands’ hand traced along the curve of Indonesia’s cheek and gently cupped the side of his face. Slowly, their lips met in a soft, languid kiss. A different kind of ache was blooming now inside of Indonesia. It almost hurt.

Indonesia held Netherlands’ hand on his cheek with his own and slowly interlocked their fingers together.

“Welcome back,” he whispered.

And tenderly, he kissed the palm of Netherlands’ hand.

[allie-writes]

pressure and the deep sea

Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Relationships: None Other relevant tags: Character Study, Nightmares, Panic Attacks Word count: 509 Language: English Read on: AO3 | Fanfiction.net

When he dreams, he is suffocating at first.

CWs: asphixiation, drowning, death-imagery, blood and injury (canon-compliant and non-graphic), past trauma, panic attacks

When he dreams, he is suffocating at first.

It is pitch dark, and there is blood in his eye. The air is thick and stifling; his lungs burn with the effort it takes to continue breathing. In and out, in and out, through the pressure on his chest. In and out, in and out, despite the walls closing in on him. In and out, in and out.

From above him, a rhythmic tchk-tchk-tchk cuts through the roar of blood in his ears. Digging: above him, inside him, shovel into dirt, dirt into body, body into dust, and ashes to ashes. The walls tremble and come ever closer before the ceiling begins to sink as well and his breaths grow shorter with it. Anything to force the dwindling amount of air into his lungs, anything to keep on living, anything to remain defiant.

Aspiration passes his lips in hot and moist and disgusting bursts. It condenses, right in front of his face; then, it begins to drip. Water dribbles onto his cheeks like somebody else’s teardrops, fat and heavy and salty. It burns where it gathers in his empty eye-socket, stings in the bruises littering his body, and eventually, it drowns his rasping, desperate breaths.

There is still air, somewhere, but he can’t seem to find it. His lungs are already waterlogged.

He chokes on the river that pours into his mouth, then coughs around the waves that are forcing themselves out of his respiratory system. His bones feel hollow and brittle where they rattle inside his clammy, soapy skin—a water corpse in the making, trapped inside a pretty, shrinking aquarium.

He is not yet submerged, and still, he drowns. Above him, muffled, rain hits the ground. No one is coming for him; he cannot remember much of anything, but this, he knows for a fact. This is the last stage of abandonment, of being discarded.

(Sometimes, he will dimly remember that someone did come, back then. But in his dreams, they don’t.) He grows delirious as his lungs begin to give in. It’s a losing battle now: no space, no air, only water and dirt and blood, and pain, and he drowns, he drowns—

And Qifrey sits up.

The room around him is dark (like the inside of a coffin—), his shirt soaked in cold sweat (like rainwater—) and he can’t seem to recall how to breathe normally for a few seconds (because he is still being suffocated, because he is still drowning—). His fingers are numb.

He is safe. He is home.

The girls are sleeping just down the hall, tucked into their soft beds. Olruggio is probably awake in his own rooms, tinkering the night away. The blankets pooled in his lap are warm and sweat-damp and heavy, and the air in his room is fragrant and plentiful. In the morning, they will have a breakfast of bread with jam and hot tea.

His entire body trembles as he wraps his arms around himself. Tears prickle behind his eye.

Breathe. In and out.

In and out.

[the-mazed-magic-shop]

Okay... that image of him holding reader's neck sent me

yes... sounds of pure pain... inside my heart!

Just waiting for the fic to pull me into darkness and drown me in the fire!

Alsoooo READER IS SO HAWT!!! (is that me? *gasp* omg!)

bounty (m) | myg [teaser]

bounty (noun) : a sum paid for killing or capturing a person. if there was one person who annoyed you the most, it was min yoongi. but what happens when he calls you after escaping someone hired to end him? a dance, which ends in a surprising way.

pairing ; gang leader!yoongi x thug!reader (f)

rating/genre ; m (18+)//smut, angst (minor), enemies to ???

wc ; for the teaser - 470 // for the fic - 4k+

warnings for the teaser ; guns, swearing. for the fic ; explicit smut in public, knives, mentions of death, gore, murder (main characters) and many more!

note ; tread with caution ⚠️ the teaser is mild but the fic won't be (it will be very dark!) also, happy d-day dropping everyone hehe!! thanks to @cowboylikeyoongi for helping me with smth very major!!!! please let me know if you wanna join the taglist for this!

masterlist | taglist

You stand straighter, putting your hands on your waist and chewing the end of the cigarette in your mouth. You survey the area with squinted eyes, pushing your thin jacket behind to reveal your black tee and the gun, with which your finger toys.

You had heard of this place, and how there was a big bounty on the leader of the gang who ran the place. They were dogs, fiercer than wolves, but still fucking cowards. Your boss had asked you to stay clear of the massacre, something about leaving the lowly on his own. And you obeyed, for Min Yoongi was a man who riled you up so much, that anger always lived on your nose – and the tip of your tongue.

The way you were called into the yard, you assume whoever tried to get the meaningless bounty had failed. You shake your shoulders in amusement, and take another drag from your cigarette, kicking the dust at your feet. One more minute, and if he doesn't show up you are getting the fuck out of here.

It's as if the universe heard your thought and plotted against you returning because as soon as you turn back towards the raging fire, a hand wraps itself around your neck and pulls you behind. You let out a loud snort of amusement around the cigarette as you are pulled into a hard chest, his arm around your neck and breath on top of your ear. You quickly pull your cigarette out with one of your hands and exhale, letting the smoke fog you.

As soon as you register his breath, a hard thing pokes you on the base of your throat, and you look down to see the muzzle of his gun at your throat, pressing into your skin. His arm is right above it, and you see the way his fingers wrap around the trigger guard, away from the actual trigger. You scoff at it – still a coward.

He pushes the muzzle deeper into your skin, and you feel his chest going up and down, as his hand around your neck brings you so near him, that you feel him mold against you. You arch an eyebrow and tilt your head, a laugh leaving your lips.

"Hello to you too, Yoongi.'' He hated it when you, or anyone called him Yoongi, so you did just that. He doesn't want to be related to his family, or have a semblance of their relationship with him. And there was one thing that could erase it – his name. So he changed it to Agust D.

"You came?" His voice is gruff against your ear, and you don't miss how deep it is, just like the ocean. You take a deep breath and exhale, before speaking again with a delayed snort.

"You called?"

if you wanna join the taglist for this specific fic then lmk via comments :)) (permanent taglist peeps will be tagged in the reblogs for this one hehe 😉)

feedback of any kind is greatly appreciated! so please lmk your thoughts :))

© sugarwithtea. do not repost.

[siriuslygay1981]

Barty shifted to the side, his heart beating rapidly. He felt shaky and like he might throw up. Clearing his throat he let his eyes jump to where Evan sat next to him casually.

He looked fucking beautiful,like always. His blonde hair was ruffled by the wind, his face slightly flushed. Barty watched with no little amount of affection as Evan closed his eyes and smiled.

"I love you." The words were out of his mouth before the words even formed in his mind.

The leafs around them rustled, the wind pushing against them. Bartys mouth open and closed, his stomach forming a black pit.

Fuck.

"uh.." Evan said awkwardly

"oh-" it felt like the word was punched out of him. Breathless and full of pain.

"yea...no YEA i-i was just- mm I'm going to..."

His limbs felt weird, his whole body felt out of place, his cheeks were warm with embarrassment. He cursed himself out mentally as he scrambled up and ran to the castle with a crumpling face and a breaking heart.

He didn't hear the faint call of his name too busy berating himself, he wiped at his face angrily and forced himself to keep going.

Way to go, ruin another friendship you idiot

__

Evan sat at the lake dumbfounded.

What the fuck.

He stared at the spot where Barty bolted from, his eyebrows pinched together. His heart thudding against his chest wildly, he pushed his hair out of his face as he tried to process everything that just happened.

What the fuck.

Part two

[florencebirdsong]

When you plan to do a small Agatha x reader smutty one shot but then suddenly it’s an Agatha x Rio x Reader fic and almost 2k words when you’re not even done yet 🧍‍♀️

[kakushino]

Haganezuka's apprentice - Fem!Reader

You'd heard about his temper, or rather, you heard his temper, long before you first saw him. The need for new swordsmiths went beyond personal wants and so, you found yourself as one of the would-be apprentices under masters of their trade. Your master though? Haganezuka Hotaru

Since you would be entering the Swordsmiths' village proper, as a citizen and not a visitor, you had received your own hyottoko mask, as ugly as the rest of them, yet crucial for its anonymity. You were grateful to it though, because it hid your scowl during your first few weeks under Master Haganezuka's dubious tutelage.

"Not like that, you stupid shithead!"

"This is shoddy as hell. Again."

"Useless brat."

"If Kamado got a sword like this, he'd be coming back for another in a day."

It was all you could do to not blow up on him. As it was, you just shut your mouth and tried to keep up. You weren't even sure if he knew you weren't a man; after all, the masks did distort even voices.

You understood though, really. He was forbidden from touching the forge until he healed up and just tried to focus his energy on you, but he went about it completely wrong. 

Every insult and snide comment fueled your wrath. It was time to show him what you were made of, what you learned and what you could do. 

With bandage-covered hands from the blisters and rawness of overworking, you did what you did best as of late - forge.

The day you presented your first 'passable' wakizashi (passable for him, very good for others) was the day his comment felt less offensive and more… like a compliment?

"Hmpf, guess you aren't that incompetent, brat."

With time, the heat of his words went out of the window, his vulgarity dwindling as you improved in leaps and bounds. Despite his harshness and unpolished way of teaching, you'd become a swordsmith who could stand on her own two feet. Your apprenticeship would last for years more though, giving you plenty of time to really get to know your master.

"You didn't buy yourself any dango? Idiot. Here, take one. Don't tell a soul or you're dead."

"Here… What do you think it is? I didn't know you were so stupid you couldn't recognize tea. You like this type, don't you? So shut up and take it."

"Tsk. Brat. As if you could distract me from my- is that Gyomaru's dango? Hand it over."

Haganezuka Hotaru was just abrasive on the outside, but a big softie on the inside. 

A big softie who couldn't take care of himself properly at times. 

"Master Haganezuka, you need to eat. You've been in here for over a day." You cautiously touched his shoulder, hoping beyond hope he would snap out of the Zone. You'd brought dango and tea, hoping to entice him with the smell at first. It wasn't working, obviously.

He said nothing, just continued to hammer away at his latest work. 

“Master Haganezuka?” you shook his shoulder a little, making him pause for a moment before he continued. Your patience wore thin. You scowled. You’d be surprised if the ugly expression wasn’t permanently fixed into your face with how often you wore it when dealing with him. 

Maybe taking off his mask would make him pay attention to me?

Spoiler alert: It did not.

But it did make your face feel hot when you saw how handsome he was under it. A few shiny scars from the not-so-recent village attack still stood out against his pale skin, making him even more attractive.

Sweat made his dark hair stick to his skin, and suddenly, you were curious about the whole picture; you untied his scarf - it wasn’t like he was going to un-Zone anytime soon, you reasoned. You were not ready for the dark wavy tresses spilling over his shoulders. It was not fair how much of a looker he was. Was this man really single?

You continued to study him, memorizing his features for long lonely nights in your accommodation. Soon enough, you realized you were being a creep and should stop at once; you needed to finish what you started after all.

“Master Haganezuka!” you reached for his other shoulder to shake it. What you didn’t account for was the fact it was his blind side. Instead of an insult or even a scathing remark, you were nearly slashed with a red-hot blade in the face. You took a quick step back and it thankfully only knocked off your hyottoko mask to the ground, the wood smoking a little where the iron made contact with it. You stared at it with wide eyes, your heart in your throat and terror pulsing in your veins. “...”

“...you’re a woman?” 

Your eyes met his, both of you staring at each other in disbelief. “You didn’t know?” 

A flush rose to his cheeks, before his expression turned to white ash. “The old man is gonna kill me.”

"How did you not know I was a woman? The Chief told you when he was introducing me."

"I wasn't listening," he huffed, looking away. 

"More importantly, you just tried to kill me!" 

"Not my fault you were being stupid, brat!"

"You were being stupid. You didn't get out of here for over a day! You have to eat! And sleep!"

"Sleep is for the weak! I need to finish this project-" Haganezuka turned back to his bench, reaching for his hammer.

You snatched the tool before he could touch it. "No, you don't-" You high-tailed it out of his forge, clutching his favorite hammer as if your life depended on it.

"Wait-! You useless wench!"

Your master swore up a storm, hurling insults, screaming at you and chasing you with his half-finished blade. 

Kanamori even ran out into the street in his pajamas, mask askew, a katana of his own in hand, thinking there was an attack again. Seeing Haganezuka, he huffed and went back to sleep, too tired to deal with this right now.

A few days later, the Chief came to officially scold your master. You had a kick out of it, thankful your mask hid your smirk.

[the-mazed-magic-shop]

I can't find words to describe how sad I felt while reading this and how sad I am feeling after reading this! I am just so grateful that you wrote this and I got to read it! The way your words flow in every emotions is so poetic... seriously... when moon and sun will return our earth will resume spinning like it should.

the one where hoseok comes home

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x gn!Reader Type: Drabble // Fluff // Established Relationship AU Rating: PG-13 — Minors DNI w/ my content, regardless! CW: None 💕 Summary: It’s October 2024 and your life finally — finally — resumes its orbit. WC: .5k A/N: Deviating from my WIPs (ope) because I needed a fix-it fic for, like, reality? Nobody requested this lil baby blurb, unless you count… me. Dedicated to (m)y jihope-biased emotional support moot, @here2bbtstrash

You’d learned more in eighteen months than you had in over eighteen years of formal education.

The first lesson came on your second morning alone: hotteok tastes better when it’s made for you. Even if the cook gets distracted by the background music they themselves are generating. Even if the edges are crispier than they should be, and the centers are a bit gooey, or there’s pre-packaged mix dusting over your previously clean countertops. Even if that hotteok is cold by the time you stop kissing and start eating, you know now that few things in life are sweeter.

He is, of course, but the point still stands.

Showers, you’d learned, are colder when you take them alone. This was a surprise you grappled with for weeks and a confounding reality you still struggle to square. A scientific mystery, then and now.

All of the hot water was yours — exclusively — to use as you pleased. You didn’t have to scramble, soap-covered and squealing, for the prime spot under the shower head. Cold air didn’t nip at your damp skin when you lost territory because you didn’t have to compete for any in the first place. Still, without whole-chested laughter to echo off the walls, not much existed to separate your body from cold porcelain.

The absence of personal space isn’t something you intend to ever take for granted again.

Of all the things you’d realized in your uncharacteristically quiet apartment, one thing hit a little harder:

Love looks different every day.

Sometimes, it comes at an odd angle. It’s spending all thirty minutes of a daily allowance with a phone propped against a faucet. It’s staring up at someone’s chin, watching fondly as they brush their teeth, and smiling when they remember — without being told — to put the cap back on the toothpaste.

Other times, it looks like an Excel spreadsheet of pop culture news, fastidiously collected and organized so that no groundbreaking celebrity gossip goes unreported. It’s incredulous eyes and a scandalized mouth hanging open, interjecting occasionally with, “Wa, jinjja?”

Every now and then, it looks like handwritten letters with thick, black redactions applied after the fact with a far heavier hand. Though you couldn’t tell where in the Republic they came from, you knew — without question — that government censorship does not apply to hastily doodled hearts.

Today, however, love doesn’t look like much of anything because its hands are covering your eyes.

It sounds like clean spoons clattering back into the dishwasher you’d been emptying, entirely unaware that the door down the hall had opened and shut out of earshot. It smells like army-issued shampoo and Thai milk tea from that little spot near the train station, where surprise journeys home occur two days ahead of schedule. And it feels like the ground shifting beneath your fluffy house slippers; the Earth now back on its axis and ready to resume spinning like it should.

Tonight, love will taste like hotteok for dinner — and you won’t have to make it yourself.

[syndrossi]

tfw when you wanna write restoration au but you've gotta eat your resonant veggies first 😭

[ren4ever]

Hoᥣყ joᥣყ Chrιsmᥲs! - bυᥣᥣყ ᥣιkᥱs ყoυ bᥲᥴk sᥱqυᥱᥣ

Ofc ya girl have to come back and make a lil sequel, this is SFW but theres a will be a kissing scene AND YES CHRISTMAS THEMED i just love love loveeeeee the vibe of Christmas YA FEEL ME? WORDCOUNT: 1,145

It been months after that kiss, that stupid little kiss from ur very own big o'l 'bully', keeping u up all night for who knows how long but ofcourse You can’t just stay in your damn room all day, so you force yourself to get up, even though the cold breeze makes you want to crawl right back into bed. Instead, you get ready for school. As you head downstairs, your eyes catch the calendar on the wall—"4 days until Christmas." you complelty forgot! you quickly peek thru ur window and see snow snow covering everything. its.. SNOWING!!!! AUYYUAIOAYOIAY (im too lazy to write the part of how she cycled all the way to her school but yeah its possible!!! anyways: in short at school)

You finally catch your breath after the chaos of getting to school. Your cheeks are flushed, and you’re still huffing out cold air when something catches your eye—the soft fall of snowflakes. Just as you're enjoying the moment, someone sneaks up behind you. You whip around to see your friend Claire, grinning as excited as you are for Christmas.

"Yaaay! Christmas is almost here! I can't wait for the holidays! Ugmmhh, no more exams or homework!" Claire's always the life of the party and somehow still manages to get an amazing report card—plus, she’s got a sweet boyfriend. Or at least, that’s how she describes him. In reality, he's more like a walking dumpster, treating her like trash, which pisses you off. But you haven’t said anything about it. Not yet.

"Come onnn, let's get inside already brrr... it’s freezing!" you complain. Claire nods, shivering along with you as you both head to the lockers. Just as you start to get comfortable, the bell rings, leaving you both a little upset. After a quick goodbye wave, you head to your classroom.

But when you get there… it’s empty? Confused, you check the room number on your phone. "467." Yeah, it’s right. You’re about to leave when someone suddenly grabs your arm.

It felt like déjà vu—the same exact cologne. It had to be... him. You slowly look up and see a familiar face, his lips curling into a small grin as he pats your head.

You’re standing so close to him that your heart starts beating faster. You glance out the window; it’s still snowing, the sky dark like it’s still nighttime. Suddenly, he stops patting your head and looks away, his face a bit flushed. "tsk.. stop makin ur eyes lookin' like that.." he hates it! its way too.. way too.. adorable

When you finally snap out of it, you push him away. "Just leave me alone!" you say, squirming away awkwardly. He lets out a frustrated sigh, leaning in. "So I can't wish my doll a Merr' Christmas?"

Before you can respond, he steps back. "Fine, fine," he mutters, tossing a Christmas-decorated bag at you. Curious, you open it and find a scarf—a handmade one. your eyes widens, but he avoids your gaze, looking away. Your eyes drop to his hands. They’re bandaged, with a few raw cuts visible. He’s way too flustered to explain, nervously rubbing his hair instead.

You quickly lean in and give him a small kiss on his left cheek before bolting out of the classroom, running downstairs. Thanks to him, you were already late for class, and now it’s lunch break. He stood there, stunned, his left hand resting on his cheek where you kissed him, a faint smile spreading across his face.

When you finally make it down to the cafeteria, you spot your best friend Claire with her annoying boyfriend, Mateusz, all over each other, love bombing her. How could such a douchebag end up with your best friend? You sigh, walking toward them.

Of course, you can't wait to tell Claire everything that just happened in that "467 classroom," being all bitchy about the guy who grabbed your arm—just like last time.

And like that, the bell rang again, signaling the end of the day. You stepped outside into the dark, gloomy sky, watching the beautiful snowflakes drift down around you. The cold breeze did nothing to lift your spirits.

Then you hear a loud roar of a car—it's him again. You groan and ask, "What is it this time?" He smirks, his tone dripping with confidence as he replies, "Hop in." It wasn’t even a question; it was a command. u didnt really have a choice either; he could easily overpower you. So, with a reluctant sigh, you slipped into the back seat, theres no way ur going infront next to HIM

"Y'know, you should really quiet down next time," he says, clearly having overheard you and Claire. Oh my GOSH?!?!, is he pissed? started panicking, He catches your anxious reflection in the mirror and lets out a light chuckle. "I’m not mad," he reassures you, while driving like a maniac Once you both arrive at his apartment, he grabs your hand and leads you to the living room. He pulls you close, wrapping his arms around your waist and guiding you to lean against the wall as he kisses you tenderly—this isn’t about lust, but love. “Be careful of what you say with that mouth,” he mutters, his lips still brushing against yours.

He leaned in again, capturing your lips in a kiss that sent shockwaves through you. Your heart raced, and you froze for a moment, overwhelmed by the unexpected warmth of his lips against yours. He pulled back slightly, searching your eyes with a hint of nervousness.

“Y'know I can’t help myself,” he said, brushing his thumb along your cheek.

You felt your cheeks burn, and your stomach fluttered. “asshole..” you stammered, trying to sound playful but failing miserably.

He smirked, his confidence shining through. “But you like it.”

Before you could form a response, he leaned in again, planting soft kisses across your face—your lips, your cheeks, even a quick peck on your forehead. You gasped, your heart racing as each kiss left you more flustered. “Wait! What are you doing?” you squeaked, trying to hide your surprise.

He paused, a playful glint in his eyes. ��Just making sure you know cute you are.”

You felt your heart pound in your chest, your voice barely above a whisper. “I—um, I’m not used to this.”

With a teasing grin, he stepped back, his gaze steady and confident. “Maybe I like seeing you all bothered n nervous.” MEANWHILE CHRISTMAS MUSIC IS PLAYING IN THE BACKGROUND YAAAHHH nonproofread btw! so mb if its choppy

[the-mazed-magic-shop]

Ah! This made me so mad. Jimin really crossed the line but somehow I feel like y/n could have dealt with the situation better. Still super mad at Jimin - the bigger asshole. You don't call a person selfish bitch who is just trying to look after you, gosh.

Thank you so much for writing this, Nini. and I'm so sorry I couldn't read and share my thoughts sooner. - suryanwesha.

Hi, Nini!! Can I request a Jimin angst with prompt 13 for the drabble game? (⁠ ⁠╹⁠▽⁠╹⁠ ⁠)

13- "you are breaking my heart...and you cant even fucking see it" x Jimin

Hi sweetheart! apologies for the late post but I hope you enjoy it <3

warnings- angst, swearing, mentions of drinking

"dont slam my car door!"

you heard jimin call after you as you ran into the house, him getting out of the car still.

"y/n!" he shouted, putting his phone in his pocket and running in, seeing you taking off your coat. He caught his breath before speaking "whats your issue?"

You scoff, giving him a knowing look before turning and walking past him.

"Hey!" he shouted, urging you to talk, "you screamed the entire car ride home and now your silent?"

You finally turned to look your boyfriend in the eyes, your stomach churning- "what"

He blinks, "what do you mean 'what'"?

"what do you want me to say?"

Jimin almost laughs "I want you to explain why you are fucking freaking out about this, and why the hell we had to leave the party early?"

"jimin..." you try to gather your thoughts, stepping down the stairs to be at his level. "im mad because you told me-you promised me....that the drinking would stop"

He takes a deep breath before speaking "It was only 2 glasses-"

"4...it was 4" you interrupt

"taehyung offered those, and so what?"

"youre an alcoholic jimin! you can risk to have just 4 drinks, because you end up like you did"

"and how is that?"

You scoffed "you were yelling and causing a scene, then you started being aggressive with ME!" you feel your voice shake as it gets louder, your body cant decide whether youre more sad or angry

"oh are you embarrassed? did i embarrass you?"

"yes, you did. You embarrassed yourself as well, and I wish you'd see that." you sigh and run your hand in your hair, "you were sober for 7 months, jimin, you were doing so well....you finished your therapy progr-"

"oh fuck the therapy program, fuck them and fuck this too" he threw his hands up and tossed his coat to the floor.

"jimin" you warn sternly

"you know...the thing with you is that you cant stand when things arent up to perfection, it fucking irks the shit out of you, doesnt it?"

You remained silent, watching your boyfriend pace the living room.

"like...you bragged about my sobriety like it was something you did, I did it myself. You didnt care when I was drunk and alone in the studio every night"

"jimin thats not true"

"yes it is! dont tell me its not!" he scoffed, looking at you "and then, I decide to have a few drinks at a party when I havent seen my friends in so long, and when I feel like im having a good time, you whisk me away so you arent embarrassed of me anymore"

"jimin I care about you, I fucking care so much and I want you to be healthy!!"

"oh shut up, stop with the bullshit y/n, You only fucking care about yourself, you are a selfish bitch"

You feel yourself tear up at his words, trying to remind yourself that he isnt sober, and this exact behavior is the reason he landed into rehab in the first place.

"are you crying?" he looked at you with a glare, his fists balled up into his own shirt.

You sniff and wipe your tears, "yes?" you bite

"why" he questions, as if he hasnt been involved in the situation

you widen your eyes and look at him, shrugging helplessly, "Because you are breaking my heart.....and you cant even fucking see it!!"

His gaze softens, but he is past forgiveness tonight.

Its silent for a few moments as you quietly sob into your hands, he decides to try to hold you, but you jump away as if you got burned.

"n-no....dont touch me...ever" you spoke through gritted teeth...his words stung deep.

He sadly looked back at you as you spoke, "you arent sleeping in our room, you can sleep on the sofa- or the street for all i care" you wiped your tear

"y/n...im-"

"dont say youre sorry....you dont say that shit unless you mean it, and im starting to think those words were real"

"No!!"

"save it, im going to bed" you turn, walking up the stairs and slamming the door shut, leaving jimin alone downstairs as he watched you go.

[smuttyandabsurd]

(Never) Let Me Go (Prussia x Russia)

Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia Pairing: Prussia/Russia Rating: Explicit Word Count: 607 Additional Tags: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Dubious Consent, Dubiously Consensual Blow Jobs, Possessive Behaviour

Summary: Ivan is gently possessive of Gilbert.

Originally a request on Tumblr.

Read it on AO3.

No sooner had the door swung closed, swallowing the room in gloom, Ivan pushed Gilbert up against the wall and kissed him.

Gilbert was thin. His body hung like a sack of bones in Ivan’s hands. His skin was stretched tight like a drum, white and skull-like, over his gaunt face. All of it had stood in sharp relief under the glare of the white fluorescents, and it had hurt Ivan to see him so.

So frail, so brittle…

“Fuck, Braginsky, that hurts!” Gilbert hissed against his lips.

Suddenly conscious of how hard he was gripping, Ivan loosened his hold and Gilbert veritably shrunk, the heels of his boots landing with a dull clomp on the wooden floorboards.

“Sorry,” Ivan whispered.

They stood staring into one another, red into violet, their eyes adjusting to the dark and their breaths filling the space between them in place of words.

Then, slowly, Ivan leaned in and breathed, “Can I touch you?”

A shiver ran up Gilbert’s spine and his eyes fluttered close, acquiescent.

Taking off his peaked cap and smoothing back his hair, Ivan leaned in and captured Gilbert in another kiss. Gilbert’s lips were cold, scratchy, and winter-chapped, but pliant. They parted easily as Ivan deepened the kiss.

It was a long moment before Gilbert pulled away for air. The back of his head thumped into the wall, causing his own cap to slide askew, and his Adam’s apple visibly bobbed as he swallowed. Ivan buried his nose into the crook of Gilbert’s neck and inhaled. Gilbert smelled of rain, cigarette smoke, and the acrid belch of diesel cars. He smelled of the city.

“Let me go,” Gilbert said dully.

Ivan ignored him. He plucked open the buttons of Gilbert’s great coat and slid his hands inside. Oh, but he was so thin…

He knelt in one smooth motion, propping his cap on the floor so his hands were free. He took Gilbert’s hands in his. They were red and raw from the cold and felt dry as paper. He circled his thumbs over the back of Gilbert’s hands in a gentle effort to warm him, comfort him.

Gilbert’s face hardened into steel as Ivan released his hands and undid the buckle of his belt.

There was no art to his ministrations. Ivan unbuttoned his trousers, opened his mouth, and took Gilbert into the cavern of his mouth. Gilbert’s hardening member slid in easily. Despite himself, a low pleasured sigh escaped Gilbert as Ivan began to suck in earnest. With his lips sheathing his teeth, Ivan bobbed his head shallowly, slowly taking in Gilbert’s length from tip to root.

“Braginsky…” Gilbert moaned. A plea.

It wasn’t long before Gilbert felt the beckoning of an orgasm which he fought to hold back, hoping against vain hope that Ivan would pull away, but he never did.

His white fingers carded themselves into Ivan’s hair and tugged. His nails dug into Ivan’s scalp, causing Ivan to let out a pained noise that was somewhere between a groan and a whimper, but the latter did not stop. Sensing that Gilbert was close, Ivan only quickened his pace.

Doubling over slightly, Gilbert managed to gasp out in between breathless pants, “I-I’m coming!”

Ivan tilted his head upwards as Gilbert’s release spurted thickly into his mouth. He swallowed greedily. It left a burning slimy-textured aftertaste as it slid down his throat, but he did not care. As Gilbert pulled away, he licked his lips.

Rising to his feet, he held Gilbert’s pale face in his large cold hands and kissed him softly, reverently.

Never, was his unspoken reply to Gilbert’s plea.

And Gilbert understood.

[merakiui]

HOLD UP….Floyd honeymoon??? 👀👀👀

YES!!!! >w< it's a request for layered cake (oneshot) with pineapple parfait (honeymoon) for Floyd x fem reader!! There is so much potential for so many things. Honeymoon in the Coral Sea or on land. Lots of smut!!! Lots of sweet fluff!!!!! Floyd telling you how much he loves you over and over in between kisses. Mer sex....... 😵‍💫

AAAAAA I can't wait to write Floyd being so head over fins for you!!!!

[voidnull-crow]

Before The Sun Is Rising Up

Pairing: Yunho/Yeosang

Word count: 1,050

Additional info: fluff, cuddling & snuggling, established relationship, storm watching, severe weather tw

(title is from "Mist" by ATEEZ) (this is set in the same world as my other yunsang fic)

Read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59293573

Yunho awakes with a start. In the safety of his room, under the comfort of his covers, the quiet of night is disrupted by intermittent claps of unmistakable thunder. He takes in the world around him for a moment as he wakes up. Laying with an arm and a leg draped across his body is Yeosang, his soft breathy snores drawing Yunho to the present.

He closes his eyes and tries to go back to sleep. He’s warm and cozy and he has an angel in his arms, what more could he ask for? Taking some deep breaths, he tries to will that brain-empty feeling he gets before sleep overtakes him. The rain is a pleasant white noise. Even though he’s finding it hard to be sleepy, he’s not all that upset about getting a chance to enjoy the sound of a storm and cuddles to boot. 

It’s the lightning that piques his interest. When it flashes, it’s bright enough he can see it through his eyelids. Nearly subconsciously, he starts counting. When he doesn’t reach 30 before thunder sounds, he opens his eyes again. That’s a close storm. Curiosity calls to him, and oh how he’s failing to resist it.

He moves Yeosang’s arm gently off of his chest and slips his legs out from where they’re tangled together, leaving only the wrinkles of the covers to remember where he was. He tiptoes out into the living room.

Yunho draws the curtains and ties the strings to hold them open, revealing the storm outside. The windblown rain batters the windows of the glass doors. But inside, dry and safe, Yunho gives a small squeal of happiness at the dramatic show of nature. Slowly, as if in a trance, he sinks down to the floor, sitting back with his legs tucked up into his chest to watch the storm in awe.

The wind shakes the trees violently, and through the glass he can hear the leaves trembling like shivering teeth. The branches are whipped around but hold strong to the test of power. 

Rain hammers down, thrown from the clouds in buckets. It spatters on the ground, crafting a low misty haze; fog-like and mysterious. Cloud-to-cloud lightning zips across the sky every now and then.

He hears a noise behind him and nearly jumps out of his skin. Drawn out of their room by the sound of the storm or by the lack of Yunho cuddling him, Yeosang, pouty and fluffy-looking with a big blanket wrapped around him, shuffles across the room. He flops down next to Yunho in front of the big glass doors and puts half the blanket across his shoulders. Yunho hadn’t even realized he was cold. He scoots closer and adjusts the blanket around himself. Yeosang holds onto his arm and puts his head on his shoulder, yawning. Yunho rests their heads against each other.

The bloody battle of nature against itself continues. With a gruesome cracking noise, a well sized branch on a tree across the way snaps. Both Yunho and Yeosang gasp softly. It hangs on by mere sinews, dangling helplessly until the wind takes pity on it and finishes the job, letting it drop to the ground. Lightning highlights the grim scene. The onslaught of rain weighs it down, keeping it in its resting place. 

Thunder booms deep in the sky, rumbling through his body in a way that sets off his most primitive urge to hide. He loves the feeling. Yeosang clings a little tighter to his arm, but smiles at Yunho when he glances down to check on him. Yunho intertwines their fingers.

The storm reaches a point where the lightning strikes so often that the roar of thunder gets no break. The rain’s beat picks up, faster and harder and heavier. It tiptoes along the edge of hail. Yunho can’t quite see the difference, but he can hear it in how the rain hits the concrete in sharper, less muddled sounds.

He pulls the blanket up higher around his and Yeosang’s shoulders, feeling the chill of the storm leak through the seals of the doorframe. He could go for a warm drink, tea or cocoa or even coffee so he can stay up to the end of the storm, but is far too enraptured by nature to put the thought into action.

The rain gives way into hail, droplets morphing into hardened orbs of ice. They pelt the ground like a battery. The longer it goes on, the more the hail begins to collect along the edges and corners of the house, but none are big enough to stay frozen. The white center of each ball is molded out of shape by the falling of more hail overtop, leaving only slush.

The power of the storm begins to dwindle. The hail’s anger melts back into rain, the lightning no longer has the energy to reach the ground, the thunder's voice grows hoarse. The trees stop shaking in fear, and the haze along the ground disappears entirely.

As the clouds begin to lighten and separate from each other, the night sky peeks at the disheveled aftermath of the storm. She blinks her pretty, and many, eyes at the world, and at the two watching her. Or rather, the one watching her. Yeosang fell back asleep on Yunho’s shoulder at some point. Yunho isn’t sure when.

It doesn’t matter anyways. The rain has faded into a drizzle, light and boring. The adrenaline of the storm wears out of him, and he finds himself fighting heavy eyelids. Carefully, he takes the blanket off the two of them, folding it as best he can and setting it aside. Even more carefully, he shifts them both around so he can pick Yeosang up.

Slow and steady, he stands up off the floor with Yeosang in his arms. Yeosang’s head droops and falls against his shoulder, cheek squished against Yunho’s arm. Yunho’s heart tightens with fondness.

He takes them both back to bed, setting Yeosang down gently and then climbing in right next to him. Feeling sleepiness settle in his bones after the excitement of the night, he doesn’t linger on the marvel of what he experienced. He’ll talk all about it with Yeosang in the morning, when the sun is ready to greet the world.

[the-mazed-magic-shop]

Listen... I HATE IT I HATE IT I HATE IT!!! I hate it that it breaks my heart seeing them like this! I just can't deal with the sadness that I felt when I imagined Y/n's face going through everything... it's just so sad... to let him go...

How about a drabble game? I will be over the moon if you write me any angsty Yoongi 😭

I need inspiration so bad right now

Angsty Yoongi???? Sounds to juicy 🤩

Do you have a specific storyline or an idea? Or should I go with mine??

[fic-recs-by-lulu]

Title: only the dead stay 17 forever

Author: Sky_Dust

Fandom: Batman, Red Robin

Rating: T - Teen and Up Audiences

Category: Gen

Content Warnings: None

Word Count: 2,017

Summary:

Tim is seventeen. Tim has been seventeen for a long, long time, a lot longer than most seventeen year olds have, but he thinks he's starting to get the hang of it.

(Tim is lying. Tim is getting farther and farther from getting the hang of it. Tim is going insane.)

OR

Tim is vibing. Having the time of his life, if you will. Please disregard the screaming and explosions.

[bfish]

ok the angel/devil fengqing au brainrot is back for real now