#you get a... drabble? because there's no way I can draw the train

[technically-human]

Hi i'm absolutely in love with the reverse au!!

I want to know, in this verse does edwin still confesses to charles? if so how is it different? i feel if he did he would end it by apologizing, you know, religious guilt and all

There’s a train that goes through Hell.

Its journey starts in Wrath, and it departs already full of souls. It took Charles far too many years to realize that there were separate, more spacious wagons that demons could board. Not that he could understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t.

Actually, Charles couldn’t recall ever boarding the train. As far as he could tell, he just appeared there one day, and had spent the next tortuous decades trying to get out. It was part of the torture. Getting out was entirely possible. More than that, it was necessary.

The train had no regular schedule that he could discern (not at first, though he had always been good at finding patterns, and was eventually able to crack it) but it would make quite a few stops before finally returning to the Wrath ring. Souls inside the train were already angry and far too close to each other (close, so close not even air could squeeze in) but when they got really violent was when the train made a stop.

Getting out didn’t mean you were free, no matter where you managed it, be it Sloth or Gluttony, Pride or Lust. No, as soon as the train finished its journey, you would appear back inside, in Wrath where you belonged, suffocating once again, getting ready to claw your way out for the millionth time.

Because if you didn’t get out, The Conductor would get you.

If he thought about it calmly, Charles could probably say that he got out of the train more times than not. Still, being caught by The Conductor once was bad enough, as there was no coal in Hell, and something had to serve as combustible. Souls could not burn to death, and the whole journey always felt longer than eternity when he was caught. Once it was over, he would be inside again, and fight with more desperation than before, not caring who stayed inside so long as it wasn’t him.

He couldn’t understand why anyone, hellborn or not, would want to get into the damned thing. He certainly hadn’t. But as the souls pushed and bit and clawed and punched their way out, Edwin boarded the train. And that wasn’t even the most groundbreaking revelation Charles had that day.

ko-fi

[nanaslutt]

on my knees begging and praying for more perv! geto🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻🛐🛐🛐

Some PervyRoomate!Geto (and 1 perv Satosugu) drabbles for you :3

contains: voyeurism, stealing, fantasizing, Gojo makes an appearance, degradation, p*ssy eating, cumming untouched, restraints, masturbating, handjobs, unprotected sex, slight somno, overall creep behavior... pls be warned

note: i do not condone any of this irl :3

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

Perv!Geto who stands outside your door and jerks off to the sound of you getting your brains fucked out by your latest partner. If he closes his eyes and squeezed his fist hard enough he can almost imagine he’s the one fucking you. He’s timing his thrusts with the slaps he hears on the other side of the door to immerse himself deeper into his fantasy; and when you cum- he cums all over his hand while his other covers his mouth to prevent any moans from slipping through his lip.

Perv!Geto who steals your dirty panties, shirts, shorts--anything at all from your dirty clothes hamper and holds it up to his face to smell your scent while he jerks his cock furiously with his lip pulled between his teeth. You're just in the next room over, he can hear you giggling with Shoko at something funny she said, the sound spurring him on as he imagines you're laughing at him, at how pathetic he is for stealing your clothes to jerk off. Of course, when he cums he makes sure to make a mess all over the garment before he throws it back into your hamper. Maybe one day you would go searching through your dirty clothes and find the present he left for you and teach him a lesson for being such a perv.

Perv!Geto who sucks your fingers into his mouth while you ride him because he's been waiting for so long for this moment and he needs to taste you. Your neck, lips, thighs, hands- anything. He would gag and moan around your lithe fingers when they hit the back of his throat, jolting around in his mouth from the roughness of your thrusts on his too-sensitive cock.

Perv!Geto who sits on his knees with his hands tied behind his back, his heavy neglected cock and full balls hanging freely in the air as you grip his hair from his scalp and roughly shove his face into your cunt. His eyes rolled to the back of his head, his face flushed a gorgeous crimson color as you fuck his face while degrading him, telling him how filthy and dirty he is for being such a creep to his poor unknowing roommate (you). He would cum untouched with a pathetic whine into your cunt at your mean words, as he continued to suck and flick his tongue as he brought you to orgasm.

Perv!Geto & Gojo who FaceTime late at night to talk about all the filthy things they would do to you while they jerk off together. Sometimes when you aren't home they sneak into your room and jerk each other off on your bed, working each other up as they dirty talk each other about what you would do to them if you were here. "Yeah? You like the way they stroke your cock? Huh?" Gojo would groan as he twists his hand over Geto's tip while the dark-haired man has his eyes squeezed shut, pretending its your hand. "Yeah cum inside her Gojo fuck, she wants it so badd~" Geto would whisper as Gojo came all over your nice clean pillow. The two of them constantly plotted on how they would get you in their beds.

Perv!Geto who would sneak into your room at night and jerk off to your sleeping body only clad in tiny shorts that showed half your ass and a crop top that your breasts spilled out of. He never touched you, but he would get close, seeing how far he could test the limits before his cute roomie woke up to a face full of cum. He would jerk off right over your face, his heart racing out of his chest when you stirred in your sleep, the fright making him back up as he cums hard in his hand, biting his lip hard enough to draw blood as he tried to keep himself quiet.

Perv!Geto who would offer to stand behind you on the train while you wore a skimpy outfit so you didn't have to be pressed up against some olf perv. Little did you know he had the same intentions as them. He felt himself get hard as your ass bumped back agaisnt his crotch when the train ride got bumpy. He would pray for the time when you would lose your balance and almost fall so he could grab your waist in his massive hands to steady you. Your meek 'thank you Sugu' Going straight to his cock at how oblivious you were.

Perv!Geto who offered to sleep in your room to cuddle when your relationship ended. Who was he to leave you alone when you spilled the news to him with fat tears rolling down your cheeks, that made his cock twitch in his pants. He should feel bad about taking advantage of your vulnerable state right now, but how was he supposed to when your smaller frame was pressed right up against his body and his nostrils were filled with your scent from being smothered by your sheets? He wasn't able to stop himself from humping his hips into your ass when he felt your body relax agaisnt him, your breaths evening out as you slipped into dreamland while Geto used the friction of your soft ass to reach orgasm and cum hard in his pants.

Bonus: Perv!Geto who was more than happy to fuck you to back sleep when you awoke right when he released his load into his pants. Him getting off on you calling him needy while he fucked his next load into your cunt, not being able to stop himself from thinking how he wasted a perfectly good load in his boxers when he could've just woken you up and fucked it into your cunt as well :( How was he supposed to know you wanted him as much as he wanted you? You did break up with your boyfriend for him after all.

[hwanghyunjinenthusiast]

Baby fever

AN: I'm sure your shock has been imagined that I wrote this. I haven't even watched the video fully yet because I should be have been trying to work on my final assignments for the semester but, I've seen enough to prompt me to write this very impulsively. Apologies to all of the fics I was actively working on (glances at my 2Min drabble with apologetic eyes).

Synopsis: Seeing pictures and videos of your boyfriend with a baby inspires a stronger reaction from you than either of you could have anticipated.

Heads up: Hwang Hyunjin x Fem! Reader, established relationship, the plot is barely there if I'm being honest, dirty talk, usage of pet names, nipple play (f. receiving), oral sex (f. receiving), fingering (f. receiving), unprotected piv sex for the first time, both Reader and Hyunjin cry at points, one mention of Reader worrying she'll draw blood from Hyunjin but no actual blood and it isn't referenced beyond that, very apparent breeding kink and talks about breeding, Hyunjin says mommy once in reference to making Reader a mum, creampie and dacryphilia kink if you squint.

Word count: 3765

I will block you if you are a minor and have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

You don't expect much when your phone buzzes with a notification from Felix. He always sends you messages throughout the day, even when he has a pretty packed schedule. Asking you how your day is, telling you about his and sending you short videos and funny pictures of the rest of the members that he manages to catch.

So when you open his message, you expect maybe a selfie with him and Chris or a video of Minho feigning annoyance at being recorded.

What you don't expect is to see Hyunjin. Well, that's not entirely true. Felix sends you pictures and videos of Hyunjin all of the time. What you don't expect is to see your boyfriend awkwardly and carefully holding an incredibly adorable, chubby baby.

He did mention a while ago now that he, Felix, and Jeongin were going to be on some variety show with children, but it had honestly slipped your mind. University has been eating you alive for the past month or so, so any space in your brain for anything that isn't response papers and projects has been minimal.

Now, as you as you sit at your desk with the Word document left untouched, all you can do is stare at the video of Hyunjin trying his best to soothe the baby. His hold on him is very clumsy and it makes you a little anxious but, it's all dwarfed by how softly your boyfriend looks at him and how his massive hands cradle the baby's tiny body to his. The smile on his face is positively radiant, and the little cooing sounds he makes do eventually draw a smile and giggle from the baby comfortably in his arms.

You don't think you've felt your heart constrict more in your chest ever in your entire life. Not even when he told you he loved you for the first time or when the two of you went on your first date or the first time you had sex. Sitting here, seeing him fumble his way through interacting with this baby and the unadulterated softness in his face, completely derails any other train of thought than wanting to have a baby of your own with him.

Which is absolute insanity.

Not only are the two of you nowhere near ready to be parents, your relationship is also not even a year old yet. You've spoken about children, and while you are on the same page, now is nowhere near the time.

Still, the more carnal part of your brain can't find it to care as you continue to scroll through the barage of pictures and videos Felix sent to you. An audible 'aw' leaving your lips when the baby's tiny hand wraps around your boyfriend's finger.

Yeah, there's no way you're getting any work done today.

You practically lunge at Hyunjin when he opens your front door. You swallow his noise of surprise greedily, wrapping your arms around his neck and pressing him to the door he just barely manages to close. Despite being caught thoroughly off-guard, he kisses you back. His hands coming to rest on your hips.

"Not that I'm complaining," he breathes out once he separates himself from your lips, "but, what brought this on?"

"Lix sent me pictures and videos of you with a baby," you mutter against his neck as you kiss along the sensitive skin there. Your blood turning into molten heat in your veins as he squirms and whimpers against you. You're sure you're wet enough already to take him. You've been wet for what feels like hours now.

"Okay?" He says, blinking at you in confusion through the lust induced haze he was momentarily in.

"You looked really cute and happy."

He still doesn't seem to quite understand what about that would cause you to react like this.

"Seeing you with a baby was really attractive," you finally spell out for him.

"Attractive?!" He squeaks out, and you'd usually find that endearing and cause to smush his cheeks between your hands, but you're too highstrung right now.

"Yes," you breathe, resuming your kisses along on his neck, on part of his jaw until you reach his ear, "it was really, really attractive. I couldn't even focus on my work because all I could think about was you cumming inside of me and, putting a baby in me."

You're sure Hyunjin would have crumpled to your floor if he wasn't leaning against your door. He was blushing so hard you could feel the heat radiating off of him. You don't think you've ever seen him get this red, especially so quickly, ever.

"Wh-what?" Is all he can respond with and, in all fairness, you did drop a nuclear bit of information on the poor man, so this reaction isn't exactly unexpected.

You take one of his hands and slip it into the waistband of your shorts and panties, moaning quietly when his fingers come into contact with your soaked slit. Hyunjin isn't unaffected either if the glaze in his eyes and bob of his adam's apple are anything to go by.

"I've been so wet for you all day, Jinnie," you whine, your eyes fluttering slightly and your walls clenching when his fingers run along your folds all on their own.

"Fuck," he grits, catching you by surprise this time around and slamming his mouth into yours. This kiss is more carnal than the last one. It's all teeth and tongue and spit and, all you can do is fist his shirt to steady yourself while his nimble fingers stroke you. You're barely aware that he's pushing you backwards until you find yourself hitting your couch. His mouth remains firmly on yours as you two tumble onto it.

A disappointed whine leaves you when his hand leaves your panties and shorts. Your walls throb borderline painfully, and you feel acutely empty. "I'm sorry. I promise I'll make it up to you," he has the audacity to laugh, albeit hoarsely.

"Jinnie, I'm ready. Please, I want you inside of me. I'm beyond ready," you whimper, clutching onto his biceps. Giving him your best puppy dog eyes and pout while he clenches his jaw at your words.

"You're trying to kill me," he groans, resting his forehead against your shoulder. From the pressure you feel on your thigh right now, you're sure your suggestion sounds tempting right now.

He kisses you more slowly this time. Savouring every brush and press of your lips against his own and, the two of you moan into each other as your tongues caress one another. You thought you'd won until you feel his hands impatiently tug your shirt up, exposing your breasts to the cool air of your apartment. His mouth descending down your neck, lavishing your throat with kisses and licks while you arch into him. Your hands tugging on his dark locks while he kisses down your body.

"Hyun-Hyunjin," you whimper, your hips jolting up into him when his breaths ghost over one of your hardened nipples.

"Are you sure you still want me to just fuck you?" Is all he says before you find your nipple enveloped by his mouth and your other breast in one of his hands.

You're sure you've soaked through your panties and are close to ruining your shorts from the way your wetness trickles out of you with every lick and suck of your boyfriend's sinful mouth. The vibrations from the groans he presses into you only make it all so much worse, along with the precise way his fingers tug and lightly pinch your other nipple.

Hyunjin would happily spend hours with his mouth and hands all over your breasts if history is any indication. However, as eyeroll and toe-curl inducing as this all feels, you're determined to get your way.

Your hands cup his face and pull him up to you. The frown on his thoroughly kissed lips almost makes you laugh, but you kiss him before the giggles get the better of you, and he complains about you ruining his time with your tits.

"Want you," you mutter against his lips, palming his erection through his jeans. The evidence of his want for you clear as day and heavy in your palm. You're tempted to just flip him over and sink down on him yourself.

"An-And I'm the one always being called impatient," he retorts with an affectionate roll of his eyes and kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"It's not my fault you looked so attractive," you respond with a shrug, biting back the complaint on the tip of the tongue when he peels away from you to tug off his shirt. God, you really must be the luckiest woman alive.

"I didn't think you'd be so into it," he says distractedly, impatiently tugging down his jeans and leaving him in nothing but his black boxers that cling in a horribly tempting way to his slender hips and, outline his hard cock.

You're not sure whether your mouth or pussy waters more.

Hyunjin flushes under your intense gaze, as if you haven't seen him naked more times than both of you could count. It still boggles your mind sometimes how your boyfriend can turn from confident, sexy and suave to an awkward, flustered mess in an instant. Well, that duality is among the multitude of reasons you're so irrevocably in love with him.

"You're staring," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze.

"It's not my fault you're so hot," you retort, delighting in the deepening blush on his cheeks. He's just too easy for his own good.

He just huffs in parts exasperation and embarrassment, choosing instead to focus on getting you naked. The playful atmosphere quickly dissipates as he hooks his thumbs into your shorts and panties, and you lift your hips to help him tug them off.

Once he's tossed them somewhere to join the heap of clothes littering your floor, Hyunjin settles himself between your thighs once more but, on his stomach this time. You really, really wish he'd just fuck you and before you're able to verbalise that thought, your boyfriend takes a slow, deliberate lick at you.

A strangled gasp flies from your lips and your hips jolt but, his large hands hold you firm. "Just let me do this for you, okay?" He asks, his stupid, pretty brown eyes boring into yours through his dark hair. His mouth hovers above you, as if waiting for some sort of response from you.

"Fuck, fine Jinnie, okay. Please, just do some-" your words are cut off by a choked sob when Hyunjin takes your words as a green light. His lips attached themselves to your poor clit, licking and sucking in ways that tighten the knots in your gut and causes your toes to curl. Your fingers weaving themselves into his hair and tugging, which prompts a whimper from your boyfriend. The vibrations making your eyes roll into the back of your skull.

A pitchy moans of his name fill the air of your apartment when his slender fingers toy with your entrance. Barely breaching your hole and you want to scream.

"Hyunjin," you whimper out, impatiently tugging on his hair.

"I'm sorry," he mutters against you with a smile and, pushes two of his fingers into you gradually.

They don't fill you nearly as much as you need but, they're better than nothing. That thought is particularly bolstered when he curls them inside of you, only needing a few moments before he finds the spot inside of you that makes your thighs quiver and your mind to go blank. Combined with his unrelenting ministrations on your poor, sensitive clit and how needy you've been for him all day, it all becomes too much so quickly.

"Hyun-Hyunjin, Jinnie. I- I'm-" You're not even sure what you're trying to articulate but, the jumbled mess of words seem to only motivate your boyfriend further. He curls his fingers harder and laps at your clit with renewed enthusiasm.

That's all it takes for everything to fracture.

You're sure the grip you have on Hyunjin's hair hurts but, you can't help it. Everything seizes and your walls spasm viciously, clamping down so harshly on Hyunjin's fingers he can barely keep curling them inside of you. Still, he tries. He's not as intense as he was moments ago but, still fingers you through your orgasm while his tongue gently laps up everything you give him.

You sag against your couch once your body relaxes. You're half certain you'd float up into the air if Hyunjin's grip on you wasn't still so strong. Speaking of your boyfriend, he does eventually unlatches himself from your hypersensitive clit. His hair is completely dishevelled, and you could already see a thin sheen of sweat on his flushed skin. His tongue pokes out to chase every bit of you he can on his bruised lips, his eyes dark.

You're sure he feels the way you clench around his fingers despite quite literally just cumming. He leans down to hungrily kiss you, tasting yourself on his tongue that he pushes into your eager mouth. As if your mind isn't muddled enough. You moan into him when he very slowly pulls his fingers out of you. Now you feel so empty that it physically hurts.

"Jinnie," you plead, your fingers reaching down to toy with the waistband of his boxers. The muscles of his abdomen jumping with every brush of your fingers against them. One of his hands comes down to cup your jaw, pressing a delicate kiss to your lips.

"Fine, fine," he says after pulling away from you and tugging his boxers down. His cock bobs in the air between the two of you as he drops his boxers on your floor. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and even more of your wetness leaks out of you, smearing your inner thighs.

Hyunjin gets up, and that kicks you out of the stupor you were in. Your hand shoots to grab his wrist, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Where are you you going?"

"To uh...get condoms?" He asks, confusion evident in both his voice and handsome face.

"Why?"

"Wh-Why?"

"Yeah, why? I'm okay with not using them if you are. I wasn't kidding when I said I really want you to cum inside of me."

Hyunjin closes his eyes then. Gritting his teeth before responding, "What about...y'know? Not that I don't want to have children with you eventually but-"

"Jinnie, I'm on the pill. I have been since I was a teenager."

That stops Hyunjin. His big, brown eyes blinking at you as if he can't quite believe that this is real. That this is happening.

You soften then, slipping your hand downwards to intertwine your fingers with his longer ones, "Hey, we don't have to if you don't want to. We can use condoms if that's what you're comfortable with."

That seems to only make your boyfriend flail harder, "No, no. It's not that I don't want to. Honestly, I've thought about it a lot," that makes you raise an eyebrow, "I've just never- I've just never done it without a condom before."

"Neither have I," you respond easily.

"Really?"

The look you give him is enough for Hyunjin to recognise what a dumb question that was, "Right, okay, sorry."

That seems to ease his anxieties significantly, he doesn't look nearly as tense as he did when you suggested the idea. You tug him down into another deep kiss, wrapping your arms around him as he resumes his place between your thighs. Gasps leaving both of you when his cock nudges at your very wet folds, the barely there pressure and searing heat causing your nails to dig into his shoulders.

"You're 100% sure about this right?" He asks once more, his eyes swirling with nervousness and desire.

While you appreciate how sweet he's being, you're seconds from pulling out your hair if he doesn't just fuck you right now. However, an idea comes to your mind to finally entice your boyfriend into fully letting go.

One of your hands reaches down until you reach the apex of your thighs, spreading your pussy for him to see just how sure you are.

"Yes, Jinnie. Fuck me, please."

Something in Hyunjin snaps then. His mouth swallowing your whimpers as he finally sinks into you. You can feel him practically vibrating with the effort to keep himself composed.

He's so hot inside of you. You're not sure sex has ever felt so intense. You've had him inside of you hundreds of times but, this...this is completely different. You swear you can feel everything. Every twitch and every throb and every vein as your walls melt around him. Before you know it, you're blinking away tears from how overwhelming it all is and pull him closer to you, wrapping your legs around him.

"Fuck, wait. Shit, don't do that. Don't move," he chokes out into the hollow of your throat, his own hold on your hips growing harsh and his cock twitching repeatedly inside of you.

"Jinnie, move," you whine into his ear, you can barely recognise yourself. You sound so foreign to your own ears but, from the way Hyunjin's hips slightly jolt and he mutters a string of curses against your skin, he might be into this new state of fucked out you've managed to achieve.

You thought it couldn't be even intense, but then Hyunjin moves, and you're pretty sure your visions goes black at the edges for a few seconds. There's no way to tell who moans louder but, you both press your noises into each other's skin all the same. Your nails drag down his back so hard that you're briefly worried that you might have drawn blood.

"Baby," Hyunjin whimpers out, thrusting into you slowly and shallowly, barely satisfying either of you, "Baby, I need you to relax. I-I won't last if you don't."

His words only instinctively make you tighten around him, made all the worse since he's so deeply nestled of you. Your walls massaging him and generously coating him in your slick.

"I want it, Jinnie. I don't care, please," you don't know what's possessed you but, the realisation that he very really could fill you with his cum hits you like a train. You pull him even closer to you, "Fuck me all you want. Cum inside of me all you want. Breed me all you want, Jinnie."

Something broken and feral slips from his lips, his teeth ghost over your throat as he fucks into you without abandon. The sounds of your skin colliding and your respective sounds of pleasure echoing all throughout your living room, and probably throughout your entire apartment.

"Yeah? Want me to fuck my baby into you?" He grits out possesively, "Want me to make you swollen with my ba-baby and make you a mommy?"

"Please, yes, Jinnie," you moan, holding onto him for dear life as he seems determined to make his words a reality. Both of you completely lost in each other and delirious.

"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck," he moans against your shoulder in-between kisses that are more spit and tongue than anything else. "Fuck. Gonna cum. Gonna fill you up with my cum until it's leaking out of you for days. Gonna breed you so good," he slurs, his heavy pants joining the symphony of sounds currently playing through your living room. You're certain you'll have bruises on your hips in the morning but, you couldn't care less. You want it. You want it more than anything.

It's always easy to tell when Hyunjin is about to cum. Your boyfriend isn't exactly great at hiding his emotions, and from the increase in the frequency of curses and moans and the way he holds onto you, you know he's teetering on the edge. You are, too, if you're being honest, but you're more invested in him falling apart. A choked sob of your name is the only warning you receive before you feel his cock twitch inside of you incessantly and warmth flooding your awaiting pussy.

You're surprised to feel some wetness on your shoulder and, concern trumps any other emotion when you register that. Your hands reach to cup his face, a few stray tears streaking his flushed cheeks.

"Hey, Jinnie baby, is everything okay?"

It takes him a few moments to find the words to respond to you, and you rub your thumb soothing on his cheek while you wait for him patiently.

"I-I-I don't think I've e-ever cum so hard. It-It was really i-intense," he hiccups out, nuzzling into your grasp.

Oh.

Well, that puts the tears on his face into a very different light and, perhaps you've discovered another new thing about yourself today.

"I'm sorry. I got a little...out of control at the end there," he mutters, his face speeding from pink to red as he avoids your gaze studiously.

"Jinnie, you have nothing to apologise for," you tug him towards you and plant featherlight kisses on his cheek, "It was really fucking hot, if I'm being honest."

That only makes your boyfriend blush harder and seek refuge in your shoulder after groaning in embarrassment. The movement quickly reminds you that he's still very much inside of you right now and that his cum is slowly starting to trickle out of you but, you feel too boneless to even entertain the idea of getting up right now.

"I'm still surprised seeing me with a baby resulted in all of this," he says after his embarrassment subsides, his fingers tracing nonsensical patterns on your thigh.

"Wouldn't see me with a baby make you feel the same way?"

He seems to ponder on that for a little bit before replying, "Fair point. You know, when we do eventually have one of our own, I hope they have your eyes."

This stupid man and the way he makes your heart race.

"Well, I hope they have your eyes and your pouty lips and your dimples," you retort, feeling very, very shy all of a sudden as though this isn't happening because of you.

"We'll just have to have more than one then. You know, just to make sure they get all of the traits we want them to get," he has the nerve to grin at you.

"Hyunjin!" You cry, scandalised, warmth flooding your face. However, you can't deny that a bunch of children with his smile and kind eyes doesn't sound like the such a bad idea.

Reblogs are greatly appreciated.

[highvern]

Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes)

Pairing: Kim Mingyu x reader

Genre: fluff, suggestive, idiots in love, they’re both big ol’ chickens

Warnings: drinking

Length: ~1k

Note: idiots to lovers is my favorite trope :) I might write some drabbles based on this pair in the future

Sequel: Drunk Goggles (Heart Eyes) II

Related Drabbles:

Pre-Drunk Goggles (in order): Peaches [f], Bite the Bullet [f, h], Jealousy [a, h]

Post-Drunk Goggles (in order): Silk [s], Aphrodite [f, s], Discovery [s], Lucky Me [f], adamas et aurum [f], Honey [s, f], Baby Blues [f]

“You’re cute.” You giggle, dragging out the last syllable in a whine.

Mingyu’s blood freezes, caught between wanting to feed into your drunken stupor and wanting to push you off completely. You’re too close. The smell of your shampoo and perfume clouding his nose, palm burning against the muscle of his chest, teasing smile and hooded gaze drawing him in. The booth in the corner of the packed club was a godsend after hours of dancing and drinking but now Mingyu thinks it might be the place where he dies from cardiac arrest.

You two had been friends for years but lately your relationship toed the line. The friendly dynamic shifted at some point, subtle at the time but echoing loud and clear now. Like a stream changed into rapids before you noticed, sucking one in and swallowing them whole. Lingering touches gave way to heated gazes; tension palpable but never acknowledged. And because neither of you said anything, nothing ever happened; one person always retreating before reaching the point of no return.

Of course the first time you admit any sort of attraction to him is when you’re three sheets to the wind and can barely stand straight. Mingyu himself is no better, mind fogged with the liquor pumping through his veins courtesy of the shots Soonyoung kept distributing. Mingyu can’t speak, tongue dry from the words dying in his throat. All he can see, smell, and feel is you; pressed against him in a way that is less than friendly.

You don’t even bother to conceal the way your eyes are trained on Mingyu’s mouth, mind far away. All your thoughts focus on if his lips are as soft as they look. If you kissed him right now, would he kiss you back? Would he let you touch him? Would he touch you?

Mingyu watches with baited breath as you lean infinitesimally closer, eyes sliding shut, chin lifting slightly. But you’re drunk, and the grace you think you possess left the building long ago. You end up collapsing face first into Mingyu’s neck, lips sliding against the hot skin causing the muscles underneath to jump in surprise. You’ve already accepted the change of direction, now content to take a rest in the crook of his shoulder as the thud of music lulls you closer to sleep.

“W—“ Mingyu clears his throat, “we should go.”

You hum in agreement but make no effort to move away.

“Y/N, baby,” he shakes you gently, “let’s go home.”

With Herculean effort, and gentle prodding from your best friend, you leave the safety and warmth of Mingyu’s body to shimmy out of the booth. When Mingyu gets up after you, he places his hand to the small of your back to guide you to the exit.

Once outside, you wrap around each other again, like magnets that can’t be pulled apart. The sudden chill of midnight air has you turning back into his chest, the arm previously on your back curling low on your waist. Mingyu uses his free hand to order an Uber, resting his chin on your head while the app loads.

“We didn’t say bye to everyone.” You mumble into his T-shirt.

“They’ll be fine.” Mingyu laughs, focusing on his phone.

“You said that last time and Chan still called at 3am to ask if we got home safe.”

We. The simple word has Mingyu’s ears turning red. We, like you’re a couple. We, like you're going home to an apartment you share rather than the one you live alone in and he finds himself crashing at more and more frequently. He brushes off the thought, choosing to focus on getting a car as soon a possible.

Not one to be ignored, you turn your gaze upwards, chin now resting against Mingyu’s sternum. The shift breaks his attention from his phone and he looks down his nose at you.

“Just text the group, pretty sure a few of them left already anyway.” He dares to drop a quick kiss to your furrowing brow, pleased when it relaxes under his lips.

“Ubers here.” Mingyu steps back, snagging your hand to pull you behind him.

The ride home is a blur. The heat of Mingyu’s arm under your cheek and the way his fingers play with yours on his lap keep you from falling asleep completely but you remain in the hypnotic state between wakefulness and dreams. Here you can pretend Mingyu is your doting boyfriend, that all the sweet drunk kisses and daring touches have a deeper meaning.

When you feel the car slow to a stop you open your eyes to the driver pulling up to the curb in front of your apartment. Mingyu is gently ushering you out of the backseat and into the warmth of the lobby as quickly as possible.

While waiting for the elevator, you invade his space once more. In your mind, the need for warmth is the perfect excuse to disregard the usual touching limit you impose on yourself. It’s easy to get addicted to having Mingyu like this and you dread the hurt that’ll come if you let yourself be too greedy. But tonight, you let your arms wrap around his waist once again and fall into him.

When the elevator chimes its arrival, Mingyu tries to keep your bodies intertwined and walk you backwards into the compartment. He stumbles the entire way, having to balance for two since you’re barely trying to hold yourself up. All you can do is whine at him to be more careful and he does everything he can not to crowd you against the wall and kiss you until you’re both gasping for air.

More stumbles, more giggles, and a crushed foot later, you finally make it into your apartment. Shoes discarded at the door, you pull Mingyu down the hall to your room. You change into your pajamas in silence, an oversized T-shirt for you (Mingyu doesn’t comment on the fact that it looks suspiciously like the one he noticed missing weeks ago), and a pair of sweat shorts for him (you don’t comment on how his bare chest is giving you less than friendly thoughts). As you both dive under the covers, moving to settle yourselves amongst the soft sheets, sleep rushes to takeover.

You’re mumbling something against Mingyu’s chest that he can’t quite decipher but the movement of your lips on his bare skin makes his heart lurch and his stomach twist in knots. However, it's the gentle kiss you leave on his collarbone before drifting into your dreams that leaves his mind in a tailspin.

Tomorrow. He thinks. He’ll tell you everything he’s feeling tomorrow.

[cheollipop]

HIII :D

Can you write a little drabble about dom Yunho and fem reader ignoring eachother after an argument and so y/n comes up with a plan to tease Yunho while he’s busy ignoring her and playing video games and then he ends up getting worked up and it then leads to rough sex 🙈 (sorry if this is too much lol)

2𝙠 𝙎𝙡𝙚𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙀𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩

hi anonnie!! this... thisssssss egsjbks omg gamer bf!yunho AND mad!yunho?? yummy YUMMY- ahem, this was very fun to write, and i may have gone a bit overboard with it oopsie. also, been in a playful mood lately, so you get bratty!reader~ happy reading ^^

pairing: jeong yunho x fem!reader

w.c.: 1.6k

tags: smut, oral (m), make-up sex, lots of cum talk bc... teehee, yunho's kinda mad but turns soft, reader's a little brat ><

nsfw under cut—minors dni!

Eyes trained on the screen before him, spattered splotches of red masking his point of view as his player failed to block the incoming stream of bullets, his fingers stuttering over his keyboard as loud yelling blasted into Yunho’s ears, his friends’ voices contained within the worn-down cushions of his headset. His eyebrow twitched in annoyance, partly because of the insults being thrown his way as he struggled to aim his sniper, but mainly at his inability to recall how the argument he’d had with you a couple hours ago had even started. He wracked his brain for an answer, but all he came up with was the menacing smile stretching your lips when you walked into the room hours after he’d stormed off, opting to bully eleven-year-olds online with his friends, camping at their spawn point and watching them grow frustrated with his unfair tactics.

The situation flipped, though, once your smile disappeared underneath his desk, your body hidden under the polished wood, and Yunho nearly cursed at the missed view of your delicate hands undoing the strings of his sweatpants. He wasn’t mad at you, he could never be, even more so when you had your fingers wrapped around his cock, tongue drawing circles around his head and collected the occasional spurts of precum as he grew harder in your grasp. He shuffled in his seat, containing a groan before it could leave his lips when you took his length down your throat, your lips meeting the digits wrapped around his girth before pulling off for air. Yunho wasn’t sure how many games he’d lost so far, only that his friends were growing frustrated with his silence, but he didn’t dare speak, knowing his voice would give away the nature of the situation he was in.

Brushing off the blonde locks obscuring his vision, he attempted to return to his position at the enemy’s base, only for you to flatten your tongue along the underside of his cock while sliding him back into your mouth, waiting until the tip prodded at your uvula before swallowing around it. To his luck, the startled grunt drawn out of him aligned with his teams’ nth loss, and his friends returned to their endless berating.

You pulled off him again, resting your head high enough on his thigh to stare up at his flushed face over the edge of his desk—eyes glazed over and unfocused as they gazed back at you, his lips bitten raw and a pretty rose tinting his neck and the sliver of his chest peeking at you over his collar. Your hand remained on him to smear your saliva down his length, squeezing at his base and back up to twirl around his cockhead, all while watching his composure slowly breaking down and his impatience seep into his features. With hesitation, you moved your eyes off him and to the pretty, bright pink painting his angry tip while it leaked translucent liquid that mingled with your spit, leaning forward to lick a stripe over the throbbing vein decorating his shaft.

You heard deft fingers pressing over the keycaps followed by the loud clang of his headset hitting the wooden desk, his thighs retracting as he rolled his chair back, and his hands squeezed around your biceps to hold you up. Forcefully pulling you to your feet with him, the snarky remark died on your tongue as he pushed back onto the bed, a sudden exhale blowing out of your lungs when you landed under him.

“Had your fun?” the deep baritone sent a shiver down your spine. Looking up at him, you took in the sweat pilling on his forehead, and you unsuccessfully attempted to wiggle out of the grasp he had around your wrists.

You bent your knee enough to dig into his hanging cock, the corners of your mouth twisting upwards when he jerked back. “Seems like you did too.”

You saw his eyebrow twitch again before a firm hand grabbed at your jaw, his other hand working your bottoms down your legs, two fingers pushing between your walls before you could even think of a retort. But you simply giggled, amused by how worked up you’d managed to get Yunho. You pecked the palm covering your lips, breathing out airy moans as he repeatedly pressed his fingers into your g-spot. He scissored his fingers, watching hot arousal dripping out of your cunt to seep into his duvet, cursing under his breath while using it to lube himself up.

“Can’t believe you,” he mumbled after releasing your jaw, leaning down to press himself flush with your chest, hands on your hips while he sunk into you, a melody of grunts and moans bouncing off the walls as he ground into your pussy, making sure you took every last inch of him. “Fuuuck, so fucking tight for me, aren’t you? Even when you’re being a brat,” he pressed his lips to the smile stretching yours.

Your smile wavered, playfulness fading away as you held his face to gaze into his hooded eyes, “are you still mad?”

Your whisper halted his insistent grinding, sparing you from the delicious glide of his cockhead over your walls to press a kiss to your forehead, “I could never be mad at you, sweetheart. I’m sorry it seemed that way,” the hands holding your hips wrapped around you, one cradling the back of your head and the other on your lower spine, holding you so close you could hear his racing heartbeat.

You knew this didn’t solve the problem, and that you’d have to sit down and talk about it again soon, but Yunho’s hold—so warm and tender—set a veil of tranquillity over your moving bodies and erased any significance tied to your previous argument.

But Yunho was still desperate, brimming lust mingling with his desire to make love to you, his hold gentle and yet his hips were merciless. He slammed his cock into your cunt, breathy ah's blowing over the side of you neck while he drew out orgasm after orgasm from you, his length pulsating within your heat as pleasure seared through your bodies. Your thighs trembled around him, and your hips ached when he flipped you over, grabbing your ass to pull you back onto his cock while his other hand pushed your head down into the mattress, taking what he needed from you and revelling in the sweet moans he got in return.

Overstimulation mingled with pleasure, and you tuned out your surroundings save for the choked grunts Yunho blew against the shell of your ear, the flesh of your ass growing raw with his repetitive thrusts, the back of his thighs slapping roughly against your skin.

“gonna come,” he panted, “gonna fill you up all the way, yeah baby?”

You rambled incoherently into the sheets, the hand holding your head down tangling into your hair until dull pain shot through your scalp. Moaning a succession of “yes” and “please,” Yunho held you in place while he emptied thick ropes of his cum between your fluttering walls, doing just as he said he would: filling you up all the way, until the heat spread into your womb.

Yunho brushed the hair off your face to watch your pupils disappear, rutting his softening cock into you to push you further over the edge, aiding you down from your high with skilled rolls of his hips and kisses peppered over your skin, groaning at the tight squeeze of your cunt around him. When overstimulation jerked your body away from his grasp, you reached back with heavy limbs to push at his hips, sighing once his thick length slid out of you, and you missed the string of cum connecting his cockhead to your leaking hole. But Yunho eyed it until it broke, sliding his hands up your spine and flattening his body over yours, his weight held up by the elbows digging into the mattress by your head.

Pressing kisses to every patch of skin he could reach, yunho brushed away your tears with the plush of his lips, kissing over your shut eyelids while breathing in your uneven exhales. His pretty angel, he couldn’t believe how beautiful you were, especially after you’d milked him dry, always so beautiful when you were stuffed full of his cum. Covered in sweat, shirt sticking to your trembling figure, your cunt oozing the translucent liquid while it clenched uselessly around the chill air.

You craned your neck to look at the man hovering over you, clothed chest brushing over your back with every breath he drew in. He looked just as ruined—a pretty flush painting his cheeks, eyes soft and brimming with adoration as they mooned over your expression. You wondered what face you were making, and why it seemed make him so starstruck.

“We good?” You breathed out into the air between you, a hopeful glimmer in your eyes.

Yunho focused on the spit drying over your lips, the line of drool going down to your chin reflecting the light from his monitor. His cock twitched in interest where it lay snug between his lower belly and your ass, and he rolled his hips experimentally, your sweet arousal around the hardening length gliding smoothly over your skin.

He hummed, meeting your hopefulness with an innocent smile, though the hint of slyness hidden within the gesture did not go unnoticed. Rolling his hips once more, he enveloped your body completely, resting some of his body weight over you while he whispered in your ear, a dribble of his cum seeping out of you as you squeezed around nothing.

“I think I might need a little more convincing.”

[dira333]

Of Worries and Dejavu’s - Sugawara x Reader

for @iiwaijime (not a drabble, but I don't think you'll be mad)

“What are you worried about?” You ask in the awful lighting of a 7-eleven after midnight.

“Hm?” Koushi asks, slurping up noodles, spraying himself and the table with Chili oil.

He looks nice, from this angle. Your face pressed against the table - disinfected beforehand - squinting up. You’re too tired for this, yet forever unable to say no.

“You don’t take me all the way to a 7-Eleven because you’re sleeping like a baby,” you defend your question.

“A lot of the underclassmen are taller than me,” he offers, offering you a bite of his Mapo Tofu. 

You open your mouth despite knowing it’s going to be too spicy for you. It’s too spicy for him, you know, he’ll complain about his numb mouth for days.

“Too spicy?” He asks just seconds later, wiping a tear from your cheek.

“You’re the worst,” you sniffle, pushing yourself up to take a sip from his drink.

Sometimes you wonder how often you’ve indirectly kissed him. How many of those indirect kisses do you have to trade for a direct one anyway?

“You love it.”

“I love you,” you joke, but his face falls, visible even in this terrible light.

“What?”

“My mouth’s numb.”

And it feels like a dejavu. Like something you’ve lived through before. Because you have, every month since you’ve turned fifteen.

Graduation is just around the corner though. Who knows what’s going to happen after that. Maybe he’ll finally confess to someone he likes.

Maybe that won’t be you.

Your hand curls into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him forward even as your brain screams in panic, a frantic, capital-lettered “NO!” right behind your eyes.

Koushi tastes like Mapo Tofu and sugar-free ice tea, like exhaustion and the thrumming fear of growing up.

“Still numb?” You ask when you pull back, his eyes wide open, brimming with emotion.

“Think so,” he mutters, his lips red from the Chili Oil. “Can we try again?”

-

Summer break means loose limbs, napping in the sun as the boys train behind you.

Sometimes it feels as if you’ve always spent your breaks to the sound of Daichi cursing, Asahi panting and Koushi egging both of them on.

“Hey,” today his face appears above you, blocking the sun.

“Hey,” you blink back lazily. “Done already.”

“No, I got bored.”

“Dork,” you complain, his head on your chest.

“Hey, get back here!” Daichi calls from somewhere but Koushi just leans down to kiss you, the angle so weird that your nose hits his Adam's apple and he coughs, falling into you.

“Hmm,” he snuggles into you, pretending not to notice Daichi stomping over to get him. “You love it.”

-

“When did you fall in love with me?” Koushi asks, legs dangling out his window. You’ve chosen the relative safety of his bed, huddled into one of his sweaters despite the warm weather. 

“Don’t know,” you admit. “One day I found you annoying, the next you were irresistible.”

“Irresistible?” You can hear the grin in his voice and the worry he tries to hide with it.

“Wanna go for a ride?” You ask before he can make a joke. “I’ll pay. I’m kinda craving Super Spicy Mapo-Tofu from 7-Eleven.”

He’s quiet for a while, swinging his legs in only after a full five minutes. “Sure.”

His hand finds your thigh while driving, curled around it as if it’s the lifeboat keeping him afloat. You draw a heart onto the back of his hand, feel the tension bleed out. It returns and you draw again, repeat the cycle until you park the car.

“We kinda have to get out if we want to eat,” you remind him, drawing a heart and an arrow going through and his name and yours, not once letting go of the hand curled around your thigh.

Koushi’s staring through the windshield, motionless.

You hold your breath, checking to see if you can hear his, the slow intake and the slower exhale, the almost not-there rise and fall of his chest.

He blinks and the tension shatters around him, though his smile does little cover his unease.

-

You don’t know when you met Koushi for the first time. To you, it feels as if he’s always been part of your life, like a tree that has dug its roots into your body, has grown so close you no longer know where one part ends and the other begins.

Still, there are shadows to him you have yet to see, secrets he has not yet uncovered.

But you’re not scared. Never of him.

“Hey,” you breathe against the soft skin of his cheek, “did you know I can read your mind?”

“Yeah? What am I thinking about?”

And if you’d have to guess, you’d come up empty, because yesterday he told you about mermaids and the day before he was dreaming about curry buns the size of Volleyballs. 

But you keep talking, a fear spilling out you didn’t know you had, hid it so well you forget it existed.

“Do you think we’ll be together forever?”

And in the way he blinks, the lights of the 7-Eleven no longer mirrored in his eyes, you can tell he’d been thinking the same.

“I hope so,” he admits. “But I don’t know.”

“Wishes do count, right?” You tell yourself more than him. Because there’s College for you and training for him, an unknown nothingness stretching out in what others call future. “Because I wish to be with you.”

“I wish to be with you too.”

“Good,” you swallow thickly, picking his hand from your thigh and kissing the back of it. “What more do we need?”

- - -

And isn’t this Dejavu?

Finding yourself under the unflattering lights of a 7-Eleven, sharing Super Spicy Mapo Tofu and Sugar-free Ice Tea?

“Don’t spill on my dress,” you tell him as haughtily as you can manage at three in the morning, half drunk on champagne and cake, the ring on your hand glittering. 

“Wouldn’t dare,” he bites back, grinning from one ear to the other like he’s drunk. Maybe he is, he had more Champagne than you.

But you doubt it, because you feel it too, the happiness bubbling in your throat despite the late hour, despite the spice you still can’t tolerate, and the bright lights blinding you.

“Miss Sugawara,” Koushi says at that moment, pushing himself up and toward you even as you eye the food in between and its dangerous red pigment. “Care to give me a kiss?”

“Your mouth is numb?”

“Never too numb for a kiss from you.”

[itsbubbleteataro]

It's currently storming and here's a little fun fact about me, I'm terrified of thunder. So here's a little hurt comfort Drabble with a reader who's spooked during thunderstorms. Please enjoy! Ps. The next part of "The Radio Host and The Reporter" is in my drafts ∩^ω^∩

Rain Rain go Away

Paring: Alastor x Fem!reader

Warnings: possible ooc Alastor

You've never been a fan of thunderstorms. Quite unfortunate considering that when you were alive you lived in an area that tended to get hit hard by thunderstorms when they did happen. Back then Alastor didn't know this till he found you burrowed under blankets like a small mammal.

This night was no different. It was a rare night in hell and a thunderstorm was raging on outside. As soon as your doe like ears picked up on the first sign of rain, you tensed.

"Hey (y/n) you good toots?"

Angel dust asked, snapping you out if your train of thoughts. Your ears were pinned back as you managed a smile and stood up.

"Yeah Angel. I'm okay"

And with that you left. You took a very shaky breath as you walked up the stairs. Of course Alastor had left to go see Rosie a few hours ago, none of you known it would rain. You just hoped it wouldn't end up a thunderstorm.

*****

Alastor was mid sip when his ear flicked, moments before rain started pouring down. He put his tea cup back down on its saucer. His ear closest to the window kept facing it, listening for signs of thunder while he kept facing Rosie. His smile was still casual as he listened at the latest gossip Rosie had been talking about. 

"Oh and Suzan came by. Still brutish as ever, came to me because she ended up eating her husband, can you bealive that?"

"Well it is Suzan Rosie, that woman even has me at the end of my rope"

Alastor's ear flicked and his grip tightened on the handle of his teacup. Moments later a blinding flash of light struck a tall tower, and a rumbling crack echoed down the streets.

His ears flicked downward and to the side for a moment before returning to their normal position. It was enough to tip off Rosie however,

"Oh go on Alastor. If you need to leave I'm sure it's important"

Rosie flashed him her usual smile, waving her hands in a shooing motion.

Alastor's eyes softened for a moment.

"Thank you Rosie. We'll have to catch up some other time. Thank you for the tea"

With that, Alastor shadow warped out of Rosie's emporium and into the lobby of the hotel. His ears flicked, the wind seemed to be stronger here and the rain pounded against the walls. A second crack of thunder seemed to shake the building.

"Oh wow this is a rough storm. I should go check on (y/n) she left a little while ago-"

"No need Charlie, I'll do it myself"

Vaggie looks up at Alastor for a moment raising an eyebrow before nodding and placing a hand on Charlie's shoulder.

"Let's go check on Angel dust instead. Does that sound good sweetheart?"

Charlie nods her head and the two of them walk down the hall, husk makes brief eye contact with Alastor before taking a bottle of cheep booze back to his room. Thunder shakes the hotel again and Alastor makes his way up the stairs. No one is around so he makes no effort in trying to conceal the urgency in his steps.

Alastor pushes open the door to your shared room, his eyes looking around for you. His ears flick as it thunders again, drawing out a whimper from within the bayou that he had materialized in his room.

Taking a blanket off the bed he walks through the bayou, going in a bit deep, following the hoof prints you had left behind. He finds you, sitting on a log, hands over your ears.

****

Shaking, you hear someone approaching. Alastor was making his movements known to you. Raising your head you look up at him, taking your hands off your ears and placing them in your lap. His eyes a softness reserved for only when the two of you were alone.

As if ok que, the crack of thunder shook the hotel, although it seemed a bit softer out in the bayou. You squeaked, curling up into a ball. Alastor sat next to you on the log. Since you've died and gained your doe like appearance, you've found that your hearing has gotten better. Your ears are pinned back in fear.

Your body uncurls itself as Alastor drapes a blanket he had gotten from the bed over your shoulders and pulled you into his lap.

"Oh my doe, my sweet doe. Come here. The thunder shouldn't last much longer"

You nod your head. The two of you spending the rest of the night in eachother's embrace while Alastor talked on and on about his day, taking your mind off the rain pounding in the only window in his room.

Soon enough you were starting to drift off to sleep in his embrace. Picking you up, he stood up with a hum. The last thing you saw before you fell into a peaceful slumber was him, smiling softly with gentle eyes,

"See my doe? I told you it would pass"

[minisugakoobies]

It's You - Choi San | First Kiss

Pairing: San x Reader Genre: smut, crack, fluff, angst, roommates to lovers, BFF's Lil Bro!AU Series Rating: M (18+) Drabble Warnings: angst!, mutual pining comes to a head, or more accurately to lips, aka kissing Word Count: 1.8k (ok it's a little more than a drabble) Disclaimers: NSFW, obviously I don’t own ATZ - they just inspire me

Summary: He was only supposed to be a temporary roommate. Your best friend's little brother, crashing on your couch for a few weeks. That's it. How did this happen?

A/N: Hi, I'm back. This is the first vignette that's not from an ask but just from my own head. I just really wanted to write their first kiss, so I did! I hope you enjoy. 🥰

Taglist is open! Reblog, comment, or send me an ask to be added! You can also send me any ideas/thoughts you might have for a future scenario - who knows, it might end up in a drabble! 💕

It's You Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ ATZ Masterlist 🐈‍⬛ Main Masterlist

A few weeks after Halloween, Hongjoong invites everyone to a friend’s deejaying gig on the other side of town. Your roommate opts out, saying she’d rather spend one of her rare nights off at her boyfriend’s, so you, San, Wooyoung, and Hongjoong check it out together.

After the gig ends, your ears still ringing, feet aching from all the dancing you did, the four of you make your way home. Wooyoung and Hongjoong both seem hyped from the show, talking excitedly as you wait for the train. You watch them with a fond smile, leaning against the wall and taking turns lifting your feet to take some of the pressure off. 

San joins you. “You okay, Noona?” 

“Yeah. Just wore the wrong boots tonight,” you say. “Didn’t realize we’d be dancing so much.” 

“Oh, yeah. I guess I could’ve warned you,” San grins. “Sorry. We’re not the type to sit through a set.” 

“Clearly,” you reply, smiling back. Honestly, you’d been pleasantly surprised at how well San and his friends dance. They were so free with their movements and their energy had been infectious. You couldn’t have stood still if you’d tried. 

Of course, now you’re paying for it, wincing as your throbbing feet scream at you. You shuffle again, and then, ever-so-gracefully, you lose your balance, tipping over, letting out a loud expletive that draws everyone’s attention. 

Hongjoong and Wooyoung cackle as San grabs your arm, pulling you back upright. 

“No worries, Noona, I’ve got you.” 

He murmurs the words reassuringly, arm sliding from yours to loop around your shoulders, squeezing you into his side, but only for a second, before he scolds the other two for laughing so much. You giggle along as Wooyoung and San pretend to fight, but your heart’s not in it, because it’s still yearning painfully for San to hold you again. Every time he touches you - hugs you goodbye, cuddles with you on the couch, even the briefest moments of contact like just now - it leaves this black hole inside your chest, an endless gnawing need for more and more and more. 

At some point, you won’t be able to withstand it anymore. You’re not sure what will happen then.

The train car is crowded when your group enters. Unfortunately for your tired feet, there's nowhere to sit, and blessed little space to stand, so everyone splits up, trying to find room for themselves. Except for San, who guides you towards the opposite doors with a gentle touch on your back, and then stands beside you, reaching overhead to hold on while your hands curl around a pole. 

Some creepy guy already too close on your right leans over, trying to get an eyeful of your chest, and San smoothly slides around, blocking you from the asshole’s view. You smile gratefully, and he gives you an intimidating look but undercuts his mean mugging with an eyebrow wiggle, and you giggle, which then makes him grin, a chain reaction of happiness that leaves you buzzing. 

The gentle sway of the car as it hurdles down the tracks shakes you. You bump into San with a horribly steady rhythm, feeling sheepish for not having a strong enough core to keep yourself upright and balanced for more than a second at a time. He just laughs, finally throwing an arm around your back to help.

His hold is light, leaving a big sliver of air between you, a respectful distance that frankly makes you wish he’d be disrespectful. But he maintains it, supporting you in the most polite way, and somehow it still makes your heart jump fast as the wheels spinning beneath your feet.  You turn your head, focusing on the window on the door, watching your reflection as the dark tunnels roll by. 

At the next stop, more people pack themselves into the car. The small bubble of space around you pops as the wave of humanity rolls you into San, and you bring your hands up, bracing yourself against his chest, eyes widening at the solid warmth beneath your fingertips. 

“Shit, sorry, sorry.” You apologize profusely, trying to step away, but the train jerks again, jostling you, and San tightens his grip, pulling you back into his arms. 

“It’s ok,” he mutters, in a quiet voice. “I told you. I’ve got you.” 

When your gazes meet, it’s like the air has been sucked from the car. Something shimmers in his dark eyes as they roam your face, and you utter his name unthinkingly, a tiny “San” just slipping from your open mouth, but it feels like a rogue confession of something you’ve been denying for so long. You’re not sure if he heard it but he definitely saw it because he’s been staring at your lips for a few seconds now.

You lean in at the same time he tilts his chin forward, and your mouths meet in the middle. A light kiss, feather soft, like testing the waters. The next one lingers, his lips firmer against yours. His hand splays on your back. You twist your fingers into the front of his t-shirt. 

A third press weakens your knees, as his mouth slots against yours. Lips move together, part, allowing him to breathe in your little gasp. 

The train emerges from the tunnel, and suddenly the lights in the car blast on as it comes to a slow stop at the next station. Immediately, you spring back, and so does San. 

His expression is searing, and you glance away, looking to see if any of your friends are nearby, but the only one you can glimpse is Hongjoong. He’s got his back to you, a few feet and a dozen people away. 

When the train starts up again, a few riders lighter, San loosens his grip, hand gliding up to a spot between your shoulders, far from the small where it had just been resting. By the time you reach your stop, his arm is more hovering than touching.

You and San find Hongjoong a few feet ahead of you when you depart. Wooyoung’s still on the train, since his place is closer to the next stop. Hongjoong slows his quick stride enough for you to catch up. 

“You guys up for some ramen?” he asks, like he always does on late nights like this. You and San look at each other, and you don’t know if it’s the dim streetlights or what, but you can’t read his expression.

“Nah, I’m good,” San answers.

“I think I’m just gonna go to bed,” you start to say at the same time, cutting off to let San finish and then repeating yourself with a nervous laugh.

“‘Kay.” Hongjoong bears the rejection with his usual nonchalance. “I’ll see you later.” He crosses the street, heading for the convenience store on the next block. 

And it’s just the two of you now, walking in silence. Two more blocks and you’ll be home. One more block. Just up the stairs now. Key in door, door closed, shoes off. 

You stare at each other. He blinks first.  

“Should we - “

“Did you want to - “

“Hey guys.” 

Your roommate comes padding out of the kitchen, cup of tea in hand. 

“Hey!” you nearly shout. “I thought you were staying over at Jongho's?” 

If she’s surprised by the volume of your voice, Haneul doesn’t show it. She shrugs. “Yunho was being annoying, so I left.” 

Yunho is Jongho’s roommate. He’s rarely at their apartment on the weekends. Just your luck that this would be the one night a year he strikes out and goes to his own bed instead of someone else’s.

Or maybe it’s for the best. Because it’s not too late to stop now before you do something else. Something potentially foolish. Let it just be a kiss. A one-time loss of rationality. Of caution. 

Even if you can’t stop thinking about that night at the bar. Sitting there with San’s arms wrapped around you just felt so right. 

Even if it’s been ages since you felt this way about someone. 

Even if you’re pretty sure you’re falling for San. 

“Are you going to bed or are you gonna stay up for a bit?” Haneul asks, taking a seat on the couch. 

“Um…” you fight the impulse to glance at San. “I don’t know. I’m not really tired or anything….” Truth be told, you’re a little wired now. “Why?” 

“I was thinking of starting that new drama Jongho told us about. Wanna join me?” She pats the space next to her.

San mumbles something about taking a shower. You watch him leave the room, and it feels like whatever happened on the train is already fading away. Did it really happen, or was it just a dream? Are your fantasies bleeding over into your waking hours now? 

San joins you and Haneul near the end of the first episode, taking a spot on the floor in front of the couch so he can stretch out. He looks so soft, with his dark hair freshly fluffed from a towel, dressed in his favorite hoodie and sweats, and it’s a struggle to keep your focus on the television and not wonder what would’ve happened had Haneul not been home.

Part of you wishes San would catch you looking. But you’re not sure you could handle it if you met his gaze right now and didn’t find what you were hoping to find. 

It’s actually a little odd how quiet he is, staring so intently at the show that you are completely ignoring. Is he doing the same thing you are, replaying the moment in his mind? Trying to freeze it in your memory?

Your stomach drops as you consider another possibility. What if he thinks the kiss was a mistake? 

By the time the third episode is over, you’re exhausted, from your night out but also from the mental gymnastics you’ve been performing, silently twisting yourself into knots thinking about San and the train and what could happen versus what should. So you excuse yourself for the safety of your bedroom, where you can dream in peace.

Nero’s already curled up on his favorite spot on your bed, right next to where you lay your head. He cracks an eye open as you flop down beside him, and you reach out to give him an apologetic scritch, when you catch a scrap of paper poking out from beneath him. A note, with San's handwriting. He must’ve slipped it on your pillow after his shower. The first sentence sends relief flooding through you.

I don’t regret it. 

But it’s what’s written next that has you rereading the note over and over. It’s a simple sentence, just a pleading command, but to you, it’s a revelation. 

Please tell me you want more too.

If you liked this fic, please consider reblogging! Likes do not help it get seen by other readers. 💕

Taglist: @sweetnspicy-noona @krystal-a @jennylychee

© 2023-24 by minisugakoobies. Crossposted to AO3. Please do not copy or repost. I do not allow translations of my work.

[spennsrs]

schlatt x reader that loves schlatt when he's put on a couple pounds :(( reader holding him from behind and just kissing his back when he doesn't have a shirt on in the kitchen or smth. "you're so beautiful, yknow that?" i have brainrot ‼️‼️ schlatt not believing reader so reader just has to keep praising schlatt every chance they get so they keep leaving little post it notes around the mirror about his body :(((((

(\ (\ („• ֊ •„) ━O━O━━━━━━━━━ ・:。YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL. ━━━━━━━━━━━━━ ︳jschlatt x reader drabble ︳fluff ︳self indulgent bc i jst wanna tell schlatt how handsome he is :(( also MY BFFIE REQUESTING <3 /p + reader can cook rly well and they Feed our boy well

the house was quiet, the bedroom dark with drawn curtains. it was late at night... or maybe early in the morning?

schlatt didn't know, and frankly, he didn't care. he couldn't sleep. he didn't even know why he was up still.

it was probably silly. maybe it was the cause of his recent insomnia. there were great things about having a significant other who could outcook even the likes of gordan ramsey. well, at least schlatt thought so. said great things include being well fed and eating incredible food.

but there were also bad things. well, bad thing. he did let his walls down a little when he and [y/n] started dating, yet he wasn't one to voice his insecurities often. his main insecurity was the reason he was staring at the full-length mirror on the back of the door into the bedroom.

his weight.

schlatt stares at himself in the reflective object shirtless, careful to not break the silence the night brought to the shared bedroom. reflections were a weird thing, mirrors in general were weird. maybe vampires were on the right track with the no reflection thing. his hand rests on his stomach, pushing, poking gently... he wasn't necessarily angry or unjustly sad, just as much as he wasn't.. happy with how he looked. with a soft sigh, his hand falls to his side again and his gaze never breaks from the mirror. his eyes over examine every part of his body visible to his gaze, and oddly enough... that's when he spots it, on the corner of the mirror. was that... a sticky note? multiple? his hand reaches up to gently yank the papers down, reading the handwriting.

'you are so absolutely amazing' 'you're beautiful the way you are, inside and out' 'do you realize how incredibly handsome you are?' 'if you could see what i see, maybe you would understand why it is so easy to love you for who you are'

schlatt felt like he was going to cry. no had ever said such... gentle words to him, nor had words ever touched him like this did. he kept reading the words, then rereading... it was almost too good to be true. he knew he was way lucky in the significant other department, scoring someone as fantastic as [y/n] was a mystery he would never understand, and chose not to.

a warm pair of hands draw him from his train of thoughts, jumping a bit as his eyes are drawn to the mirror before him. schlatt could see the familiar arms of his lover wrapped around him, their left wrist adorned with the silver bracelet he had gotten them for their two year anniversary.

"did i wake you, sleepyhead?"

his voice is soft, and it's tinged ever so slightly with emotion as his hand comes up, gently caressing their arm. there's some movement against his back, and he deciphers its his lover shaking their head. that's good, at least he didn't disturb them.

"you're beautiful, jay." schlatt feels his heart constrict at those words. of course they knew. they had a way of reading schlatt like a book, often picking up on his turmoil on certain topics before he even knew himself. a small smile tugs at his lips as he pats their arm. no words came from him, none needed to. "no matter what you look like, what you sound like, or what you do, you will always be beautiful to me, and i'll always love you."

and maybe... just maybe... in that moment, schlatt could let himself believe it was true, because the love of his life said so. who was he to deny their words?

[endlessnightlock]

I began a story for the This Would Have Happened Anyway Challenge but didn't get it done in time to submit it. So I wrote a little more, and maybe you would call this a drabble? I don't know. I'm posting it here because it's a drop of water in my personal writing desert.

In Panem, canon-divergent. Everlark married instead of Quarter Quell Reaping.

"Are you coming downstairs soon?" 

Katniss is standing outside our bedroom door, watching me, her hand pressed to the frame, half in, half out. I was startled at her voice, unaware of her presence, and she smiled at the reaction. We've only been married and living together for a few weeks, and it's reassuring she knows me so well. It makes me feel better about our situation. 

I wasn't startled because it was Katniss there, catching me off guard—it was a knee-jerk reaction. I tend to get lost inside my head and zone out, and after years of Mother's insults (are you stupid? Why didn't you answer me?) slung my way like daggers, defense is my natural response. 

Licking her lips, she shrugs. "Your brother is here."

Ah. Now I know precisely why Katniss sought me out. At the ridiculous wedding reception thrown for us by President Snow, Rye pulled me aside to tell me he was planning to come by once we had a few days to settle in. Bring over some of my things from the bakery and a few things our parents want me to have now that I am a married man. Or a forcibly wed, frightened seventeen-year-old. You know, whichever way you choose to look at it. I digress. Katniss and I didn't choose this route. But I love her; she cares for me, and we're keeping our families safe. 

Back to Rye. He and I discussed it moments before our families left to catch the train back to Twelve—because even a victor's relations are limited on time they're allowed outside the District. This conversation was weeks ago, and I forgot about it. The memory lapse isn't like me, but I think it can be forgiven, considering how difficult it is to breathe under President Snow's intense scrutiny. I don't know how we'll spend the rest of our lives under his thumb. Who knows. Maybe we won't live long enough to find out. 

"Oh. Okay," I say. My eyes flit from Katniss's profile to the sketchbook in my lap. I feel like I need to collect my thoughts before seeing my brother. "Would you tell him I'll be down in a few minutes?" I venture. It's more a question than an answer.

She frowns. That's her answer: a firm no, Peeta. I won't hang out alone with your brother while you keep drawing. "Do you want me to send him up?" she suggests—more of a threat than a question.

"No, just give me a minute," I say, carefully closing up and laying my sketchbook on the side table before sliding off the mattress. I don't want to be cornered by my brother in our bedroom. Rye's itching to badger me with questions I sure as hell don't have any answers to.

She groans, and I laugh under my breath. If we were close enough, she'd pinch my side or smack my arm for finding humor in her misery. My family is standoffish with Katniss, and her response is in kind. "I'll wait for you," she says. 

Of course, she will. I'm like a security blanket for her.

"Well, don't just stand there gawking at me from the doorway," I say, bending over and grabbing yesterday's pants off the floor. I should have been up and around hours ago, but last night was horrible, and it took forever to fall asleep. 

"Fine," she says, stepping inside the room and pulling the door mostly shut behind her, keeping her eyes averted until I buckle my pants over my undershorts and put on a clean shirt. I raise my eyebrows in amusement. 

We're still dancing around each other. Not used to these close quarters. Sharing the same bedroom, sleeping in the same bed. Dressing in front of each other. Maybe I should make an effort to cover up more. I don't know. Being in my underclothes doesn't bother her when we go to bed. We curl around each other, seeking solace in each other's arms, keeping the darkness at bay. It's not the blackness of the night but rather those dark thoughts invading our minds like wind in the trees. Unpredictable, tangible.

"You don't have to look away. I don't mind if you see me," I remind her.

"Yeah, yeah. We've had this conversation before." 

That makes me smile.

"Are you going to yammer on or go into the bathroom and brush your teeth?"

Playfully, I cup my hands in front of my mouth and blow air into them. "Hmmm. Maybe I should leave them be. My morning breath might be enough to keep Rye from showing up here unannounced."

Katniss rolls her eyes. "I doubt that. Boys are gross."

She's not wrong. I've smelled much worse than Rye's bad breath living at home with my family. When we were still in wrestling, he'd pin me to the floor, squat over my head, and fart in my face. I shudder at the memory.

"What?" she asks.

I wave her question off. "Believe me. You don't want to know. You could go ahead and head downstairs—I'll only be a minute, I promise."

"Uh, no. I'll wait for you."

[lumiconic]

falling asleep on their shoulder

❥  summary: fluff drabbles of taking a nap on their shoulder 💤

❥  characters: childe ; scaramouche ; albedo ; chongyun

❥ content: gn reader, modern au, fluff

❥ note: yayyy more fluff ^u^!! tysm for the support so far!!

♪ CHILDE

• after a long day at an amusement park where you screamed until your throat was hoarse, shared puffs of neon cotton candy, and collected trinkets and plushies, the two of you are on the train home. the ride is a lengthy one, but you’ve passed it so far playing card games and chatting about the day.

• you’re both tired and quieter now; childe has an earbud in and you look sleepy. you have your arms wrapped around a massive plush of the amusement park’s mascot – a teal dragon with dark blue scales spiraling up its soft back – and you cradle it to your chest snugly, leaning against childe.

• his eyes on his phone, he doesn’t notice until the gentle thrum of his music is interrupted by a soft snore that your eyes are closed and your head is resting on his shoulder. he looks down at you with a mixture of amusement and fondness curling his lips into a lopsided smile; your eyelashes are so long it’s a wonder they aren’t tangled.

• you sleep soundly, your arms once falling away from your plush before he carefully tucks it back beside you. childe gazes out the window and at the landscapes rushing past, the sweet palette of oranges and yellows and pinks gradually giving way to midnight blue and twinkling stars, and leans back against the headrest as the gentle sound of your breathing lulls him into a sleepy blurriness.

♪ SCARAMOUCHE

• he taps a page of your geometry textbook sharply with a mechanical pencil, speaking rapidfire and tracing a diagram written on the waxy paper. “—so, because the alternate exterior angle theorem states that the two lines cut by … ” before his words are interrupted by a whistling snore, and your head lands on his shoulder.

• “w-wha-?!” he sputters, flaming red and ready to shove you off him, before his gaze alights upon your face, peaceful in sleep, with dark rings underneath your eyes, and his expression softens. the notebook in front of you is filled with lines of cramped, careful notes, getting gradually more scribbly as you struggled to keep up with his words.

• he sighs, rubbing his face, before he counts your three empty cups of iced coffee, laced with ribbons of caramel, and clicks his tongue. “a sugar crash? really, [name]?” he rolls his eyes, collecting the cups, and stacks them off to the side of the library table, keeping his movements ginger and careful to make sure not to disturb you.

• i guess i have no choice but to wait for them to wake up, he thinks to himself with a rueful scowl, that melts to an almost affectionate smirk as he pulls his tablet out of his pocket and fixes his headphones on, keeping the sound of the video he watches low enough so that he can still hear your quiet breaths. a tiny blush remains on his cheeks as he is constantly reminded of your presence.

♪ ALBEDO

• the lights are off, you’re wrapped in blankets, and there’s a bowl of caramel corn in your lap – your only solace from the incredibly boring nature documentary you have to watch for your biology class. your head is tucked onto his shoulder, your eyelids are already fluttering closed every now and then, and he patiently pokes you in the side until you wake up with a “h-huh?! of course i’m awake!”

• the documentary continues to play. accustomed to the feeling of your head on his shoulder, he doesn’t pay you much attention until there’s a rare break from leaves and greens in the documentary and they show a cute family of monkeys. “hey, what do you think of – ” he asks, only to cut himself off when he realizes you’re fast asleep.

• he sighs and turns down the volume on the documentary before digging in his backpack and getting out his tablet so he can take enough notes for both of you, and he does … for about five seconds, before his hand seems to move on his own and a drawing of your sleeping face appears in short, imprecise lines that overlap messily on top of his notes.

• the drawing is rough and sketchy, your nose and lips undefined and your closed eyes nothing more than two short pen strokes, but even from a glance it’s easy to see the love the artist feels for the subject. a few more shapes outline the scene of the two huddled close together, and when albedo clicks his tablet off, the credits rolling down the tv in darkness, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

♪ CHONGYUN

• he takes a bite of his popsicle, freezing cold burning through his mouth for a moment, before it recedes and he turns a page of his book with sticky fingers from juice dripping down his wrist. the sun beats down on the two of you as you peer at the book – poetry written by one mischievous funeral parlor director – and a rare breeze gusts by, ruffling a page.

• the pavement is scorching hot, shadows traveling over sun beaten stone as the day passes by sluggishly. you sit in silence, rarely offering comments, the shade of the ruins speckled with tiny glimmering jades and glistening beetles scuttling throughout looming overhead and providing solace from the unbearable heat.

• you lean against him, folding your hands in your lap and stretching your legs out in front of you, dust billowing into clouds as your shoes brush against the ground. as the minutes pass by, your breathing gets steadier and smoother and your eyes start to close gradually until they’re fully shut, the warm air soothing you into slumber.

• chongyun closes his book and leans back against the stone, taking smaller breaths as to not disturb you. clouds drift by overhead, and he finishes his popsicle, flicking the stick off to the side. he shields his eyes as he looks up, seeing that you still have a couple hours before the sun sets and you can start the journey home; for now, he’ll simply listen to your breathing, taking pleasure in this moment of peace he can share with you.

thank you so much for reading, and pls leave a like + reblog + follow if you enjoyed!!

[crazyunsexycool]

My little love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x enhanced reader

Warnings: FLUFF, Charlotte being the sweet Angel she is, mentions of future children

A/N: here is a small Drabble to celebrate our favorite super soldier’s Birthday!! What better way to celebrate it that with his family.

“Mama, can we make daddy a cake?”

One simple request from your daughter a few days before Bucky’s birthday. You knew he didn’t really want to celebrate it. But how could you say no to Lottie? Maybe if the surprise came from her he’d be ok with it. You’d just keep the celebration between the team.

“Of course we can, but you can’t say anything because it’s going to be a surprise, ok?” You smile down at her.

“Ok.”

You sit and plan what kind of cake you should make and what color frosting you should use. Lottie had set her heart on black frosting and gold letters just like his arm. As well as a goat because it was their favorite animal. You tried not to laugh because she was so excited to do something for her dad.

~~~~~~~~

Bucky did his best to avoid his birthday ever since you had met him. This year was no different, he made sure to stay busy by training recruits, filling out papers or if he could, going on a mission. The one thing Bucky didn’t count on was the determination of his child. She had practically planned the whole thing herself. If this party wasn’t proof that she had everyone wrapped around her finger you didn’t know what was.

She convinced Nat and Steve to keep Bucky busy for the day, Sam and Vision helped with decorations, Wanda helped with the food and she even convinced Tony not to throw a party of his own. By 5:30 pm everything was set.

The team minus Nat and Steve who would arrive with Bucky were already at your new home. Since you’d decided to expand your family you moved out of the apartment in the compound into a house within the compound grounds thanks to Tony. The front door opened and everyone waited in the dining room.

“Sugar?” Bucky called out for you.

“In the dining room, handsome.”

Lottie was about to explode from the excitement. The closer the footsteps got to the room you were standing in the more shifted in place. She looked up at you with a beaming smile before she looked at the door.

“Surprise!” Everyone yelled. Bucky stood there stunned. He wasn’t sure what to do but you could see how he was starting to frown.

“Go get daddy.” You whispered to Lottie and she happily ran to him.

Her arms wrap around his leg and she looks up at him. Eyes wide and a huge smile on her face. He bends and picks her up, placing her on his hip. Lottie’s arms wrap around his neck and she kisses his cheek.

“Happy birthday daddy, do you like it?”

“It’s amazing, Doll. Did you help mama?”

She shakes her head. “Mama helped me. And so did everyone.” She explained what everyone did to help celebrate his birthday. “But mama and me made the cake. It’s your favorite.”

You saw the tears pool in his eyes as he kissed Lottie’s temple. His eyes connected with yours for a moment, then he smiled. It was genuine, charming and almost a boyish smile. He walked further into the room and for the rest of the afternoon and into the night you celebrated the birthday of the love of your life.

As the night started to wind down the party was moved to the living room where gifts were being opened. Lottie left hers for last. She held her hand behind her back but you could see the piece of paper she was holding.

“Close your eyes daddy.” She asked. When he had done what she asked she held the paper in front of her, she proudly displayed her work of art. “Open.”

“Doll, this is amazing.” He looked at the drawing she’s done. On top of the page said happy birthday in a child’s handwriting and underneath was him and you holding hands, a white cat and Lottie holding the hand of a smaller child. His eyes snapped to yours immediately. “Are you…” Bucky looked from your face to your midsection.

“Mama doesn’t have a baby in her belly. I saw him in my future dreams.” Lottie explains proudly. When trying to explain to her what visions were you and Bucky somehow ended up with that phrase and it’s what she uses all the time.

“This is the best present ever doll. I’m gonna frame it and put it in my office.”

Bucky wraps his arms around Lottie and he holds her close to his chest. Then he wraps an arm around you and pulls you into the small group hug.

“I love you both so much.”

“I love you, handsome.”

“I love you daddy.”

Taglist:

@kunaikunari

@rebekahdawkins

@cjand10

@nalny5

@sturchling

@angywritesstuff

@seitmai

@writing-for-marvel

@goldylions

@darkhairedmenrule

@little—baby—bear

@almosttoopizza

@littleseasiren

@pono-pura-vida

Series:

@buckystevelove

@vicmc624

@just-someone11

@sjsmith56

@emily-roberts

@spencerriedisagorgman

@talesofadragon

@superduckmilkshake

@samfreakingwinchester

@lfaewrites

@enchantedbarnes

@callsign-athena

[dandylovesturtles]

This is 2AL Propaganda

I bring you propaganda for the @rottmntpeepawpolls advocating for 2 Arms Left Leo by @intotheelliwoods in the form of another fanfic drabble! Please go check out their comic series, it is extremely good. And vote for 2AL Leo in the poll tomorrow!!

(Also Ell I'm sorry if I get f!Leo and p!Donnie's relationship wrong I TRIED

ALSO I PROMISE THIS ISN'T ANGST

also also this is set still somewhat early in his recovery time OK NOTES OVER)

...

"I can feel you lurking."

Leonardo looks up from his phone and locks eyes with Donnie, currently peeking through the crack in the curtain to his train car. He disappears from view and a moment later waltzes his way inside like he hadn't just been hiding.

"I have a question for you," he announces.

Leo sits up and drops his legs over the edge of the bed. "Shoot."

Donnie hesitates. He looks anxious, and Leo tenses in anticipation.

"It's about your timeline."

Leo's heart drops.

He'd known this would come eventually, but he'd been hoping it would be later rather than sooner. Of course they would want to know eventually, though. What happened to them. How things in his time had... ended.

He just isn't prepared for it. He isn't sure if Donnie is prepared for it, either. He's still so young. Should he really be hearing this now? What kind of damage does that cause on a young mind?

His mouth is draw when he says, "What's your question?" He scrambles to prepare answer, some way to put it off, or maybe to soften the blow, or-

"Did you still have the Lair Games in the future?"

-gape at Donnie like a fish because what?

"What?"

"Did you still have the Lair Games in the future?" Donnie repeats, a little louder as though that were the issue here.

"...We were a little busy with the whole alien apocalypse situation."

"Scoff." Donnie waves a hand. "As if a little apocalypse could stop this family from being competitive."

He has him there. Leo can't help but snort in amusement. "You're right. But it was less formal and more like... bragging about how many Krang hounds we could kill."

"Ah, I see... Well, we're lacking in those, so... goodbye."

He turns on his heel to leave.

"Hey, wait wait wait! Why the sudden interest?"

Donnie turns back around. He still looks anxious, but now Leo realizes it's more embarrassed than upset like he initially thought.

"Well, as you know, I am the current champion of the Lair Games."

"Heh, as if you'd let me forget."

"And I'm very eager to defend my title! And especially after his-slash-your nefarious tricks last time, I'm ready to grind Nardo to dust." He rubs his palms together with an unhinged glee, and Leo winces internally. Yikes. "But..." and there he stops, "Leo seems... reluctant to participate. We did not design the events with... one of us missing a limb in mind."

Ah, right. Hard to do a Handstand Hillbomb with only one arm. Even if they put things off until Leo's port and prosthetic were ready, he probably still wouldn't be experienced enough with it to do anything too taxing.

Leo could already imagine his younger counterpart had waved it off with a smile and a, "You guys have fun," and, "I'll be cheering for you." He would swing by his room later to check on him; for now he had another kid to deal with.

"So that's why you came to me?"

"I was hoping you might have some ideas for alternative events."

"Hmmm... I might be able to think of some." He grins. "On one condition."

Donnie looks wary. "What?"

"I get to play, too."

"What, so you can twist both my ankles this time!?" Donnie shakes his head. "Oh no. One of you is enough."

"Come on! It'll be fun."

"Doubt! And besides, the bylaws state that we can't add anyone to the competition."

"Ah-ah." He waves a finger. "The bylaws state that the competition is between Raphael, Michelangelo, Donatello, and..." He trails off, putting a hand on his plastron with a smirk.

Donnie's eyebrows are furrowed so hard they're at risk of smudging. "...You have out loopholed me, sir."

"Don't worry, I'll give you guys-"

"Do not."

"-a handicap."

"Groan! Why didn't I send Mikey to do this instead?"

"'Cause you love me." Leo gets up from the bed, walks over and catches Donnie in an affectionate headlock before he can flee. "Alright. Let's get brainstorming!"

[beachy--head]

Drabble time! A companion piece to this drabble where Harriet bargains with Jackson to get a pet and ends up with a kitten.

This is for @babyjapril and @himbo-jackson-avery, who always have the best tags and were wondering about Jackson as a cat dad. Ask, and you shall receive! (or something like that.) My brain wouldn't shut up until I wrote this, so here you go.

___

Jackson’s sigh cannot be louder even if he tried.

“Fine, we can adopt a kitten. But!” he adds before his wife and daughter can shriek with joy. “This cat will stay in the garden, he’s not going on any furniture ever, and Hattie, you have to help feed him and clean after him, okay?”

He’s not a cat person (not an animal person at all, actually), and he already envisions a future made of scratched furniture and cat hair on every piece of clothing Hattie owns, but the smiles on Harriet and April’s faces make up for it a little bit.

Still. That cat better not expect anything from him.

__

“Yeah, okay, he’s cute. And Hattie picked a good name with Oliver. But you’ve been cuddling him for the past hour, can you put him back on the ground now?”

“Jealous, Avery?”

“I’m not!”

__

“Why is he following me everywhere? I almost stepped on the damn thing ten times this afternoon.”

“Guess he’s just recognizing your natural leadership."

“Ha-ha-ha. Is this because I brought up the Gunther thing from way back this morning? You don’t have to be a sore– Oh come on, you almost made me fall, you stupid cat!! I swear, this thing has no survival instinct.”

“Leave him alone, will you?”

“Make him leave ME alone!”

__

“Have you noticed that he likes being scratched behind his ears? He makes such a goofy face every time.”

“Uh huh.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You just seem awfully cozy with him, now.”

“I’m just noticing things. You know, in a scientific approach of my surroundings. It’s no different from observing a patient, actually.”

“Uh-huh.”

__

“Daddy. You have to take good care of Oliver while mommy and me will be in Moline. I made drawings to show you how to do it, and mommy did the words.”

Jackson smiles when he sees the five sheets of instructions created by his daughter (this is 100% April’s DNA, no arguing), and holds his little finger for a pinky-swear. His daughter takes it, looks him in the eye.

“But you DON’T sleep with him in your bed. He’s only allowed to sleep on MY bed, and when I'm not there. Promise. And you have to send me pictures of him.”

“Am I allowed to live in the same house as him, or…?”

“Daaaaddy!”

__

“Yes, Jackson, I showed her the picture where Oliver is eating his food. Yes, I also showed her the picture where he's playing on our bed. Yes, the one with his new collar, too. And the one when he’s yawning. And the one – Did you go into the office at all today?

__

“I think we should go to the vet.”

“It’s a very small puncture wound, Jackson. I’ve disinfected it, and he cleaned it himself, too.”

“But it could lead to an infection.”

“Tomorrow it’ll be like it never happened. Trust me, there were so many cats on the farm who kept fighting with each other, having bites and marks way worse than this one, and we patched them up ourselves every single time.”

“But just in case…?”

“He’s going to be fine, Jackson.”

“I know, I know. Of course, we could ask,” he squints at his phone’s screen, “Dr. Davis for her input, it says here she’s specialized in felines and her clinic offers complementary training in–”

“Jackson, if you press dial on that button, I swear to God I’m telling Hattie the damn cat has been sleeping in our bed for the past week.”

[rollinouttahere-writes]

So you did a short Drabble about Mihawk finding Lizard, but what if Mihawk found Doll? We know that he’s on amicable terms with Shanks, so Shanks has probably told him about his daughter, and Mihawk may have even met Doll before, so would he bring her back to him, or would he listen to her if she was begging him to not send her back to her dad?

And if he did listen to her and decided to not give her back to Shanks, would he bring her to the Straw Hats, or would he also be a platonic yandere and want to keep her at his home?

Honestly I guess I would really just like to know more about the relationship between Mihawk and Doll, if you’re willing.

This one? Technically Buggy found her, Mihawk was just stuck trying to do damage control lol

Under a cut because I had a lot to say about them

Mihawk is one of the very few people that Shanks was okay with allowing Doll around, even going so far as to tell her to call him uncle Mihawk. They met a handful of times, and thanks to how observant Mihawk is, he could tell that something was... off. Doll's behavior was strange. She appeared to be torn between being excited to see someone new, but also being terrified and having no idea how to approach said new person. It's a very concerning way for a toddler to act, which led to Mihawk questioning Shanks about her.

Who is she? Where did she come from? Why is does she appear to have never socialized a day in her life?

Shanks, seeing nothing wrong with what he's done, is completely honest. He tells Mihawk about Kailani and how he "just had to" whisk away Doll when she wouldn't cooperate. He kinda skims over the whole Uta situation, but Mihawk is able to piece together that Doll has never been exposed to anyone outside of the ship because Shanks is scared of having a repeat of what happened to his first child.

Mihawk is empathetic to an extent. He doesn't have children of his own, but it's easy enough to imagine that losing one is a painful thing to go through. He encourages Shanks to consider letting Doll off the ship once in a while, but leaves it at that. It's a fresh wound, he's optimistic that he'll move on and ease up as it heals.

But as the years go by and they occasionally cross paths here and there, he realizes how naive it was to assume that. Doll has never seen a face outside of the crew and himself. Not only that, but as she gets older it becomes more and more apparent how infantilized she is. Anyone else would be training her hard to protect herself, but Shanks refuses to. Outside of lockpicking, she doesn't have a single useful skill. She can't fight at all.

It starts to bother Mihawk.

The last time he sees Doll before her escape, it's impossible to ignore how miserable she looks. Her eyes are bloodshot from stress and she's gone from being kind of fidgety to looking like she's about to have a nervous breakdown any second. Even the other members of Shanks crew can hardly stand to look at her, but there's nothing they can do because at the end of the day Shanks is their captain and they won't go against him.

While Shanks is occupied with getting more booze, she approaches Mihawk and clings to him while begging for him to help her leave. She's crying but doing her best to keep it quiet so as to not draw attention. She explains how she "found something she wasn't supposed to" and how awful it's been since that happened. The kid is borderline hysteric and promises that she won't be any trouble. He doesn't have to keep her around, he can ditch her at the first island they come across and she'll figure it out from there.

For a moment, he's heavily considering it, but then Shanks comes back. Mihawk covers for Doll by saying that all the noise overwhelmed her and that's why she's crying and upset. Shanks buys it, but he also then takes Doll away so she can rest in their room and get away from the noise.

Mihawk left without her that day, but he did not feel good about it. When he finds out she went missing, it is honestly a weight off his shoulders. He'd been genuinely thinking about sneaking her off the ship, but now it seems he won't need to. He does find himself to be concerned about how she is fairing. He knows she can't fight, so he can only hope she's with people who can. Then he finds out she's with the Straw Hats, and that really takes the edge off. She ought to be safe with them.

If they encountered each other again, Doll would be fearful of him taking her back to Shanks. As far as she could tell, he was as complicit as everyone else on that ship had been. Mihawk is quick to assure her that he has no such plans, he won't even mention having seeing her again to Shanks.

During this, he can't help but ask if she's picked up any fighting skills since her escape. Upon hearing that he hasn't, he nonchalantly says that he wouldn't be opposed to showing her the basics of sword fighting, should she be interested. He tries to act impartial, but he very much wants her to say yes.

He isn't yandere for her, but he does feel the need to help her when he can. It helps assuage the guilt of doing nothing all those years she was trapped on the Red Force for. He'll mislead Shanks and would even be willing to fight him if it meant giving Doll a chance to get away.

For someone who once rolled his eyes at being called "uncle Mihawk", he sure does live up to the title.

[fandomfluffandfuck]

congrats on finishing finals mr s!!!! 🥳 hope u have a good break :)

(on a semi-related note, i would like to humbly request evanstan spitkink if u havent done so already, but if u have... 🤲)

Thank you so much!!

I've written a tiny bit of spit kink with stucky in my series "You Can('t) Teach An Old Dog New Tricks," specifically in chapter one of "Shake" so if you haven't read that, I would highly recommend it, lol.

Also, while on the stucky spit kink train, if you haven't read this drabble from K (@howdoyousleep3) that has her pairing of Senator Rogers and Intern Bucky with spit kink, I would highly, highly recommend that, too. Maybe even more than mine because, Jesus Christ, it's K, c'mon, of course it's stupidly hot.

Without further ado, evanstan and spit kink 👀

Sebastian has already cum multiple times, he couldn't say if it was twice or a hundred times because he doesn't have the capacity to recount anything right now--not his own name and hardly anything as complex as numbers that string together to make any form of sense. All that exists is flames and heat and this. This moment where he's being kept in a glass enclosure of pleasure. Untouched but so, so touched. Guh. That doesn't make sense. It doesn't need to. He loves this. He needs this. He aches for this. Kept bound, sweet, and small underneath Chris, who is so indescribably big and heavy and perfect.

Sebastian has made a slick mess all over himself, all over Chris, too, from cumming his brains out until there's nothing left. He's pulsed and rippled and throbbed through the height of pleasure so many times that his cock--which he knows is dizzying, hazily, somewhere down there, along the yielding, melted line of his body, but he can hardly locate at the moment--has gone soft. He's aware of just how soft he is, despite feeling so, so unbelievably hard because Chris keeps fondling him.

Stroking his soft, weeping cock, drawing more, endless liquid from it that might be more cum, it might be pre-cum because time is nothing if not broken at this moment, it might be piss, commanded into emptying himself in every conceivable way possible, it might be all of him--he might be truly liquid.

Cupping his soft cock against his clenching tummy, trapping the tortured shape between his calloused, heavy palm and his body--encased, surrounded, overwhelmed just like Sebastian is.

Petting his soft cock, down the limp length as if it's precious. Treating the vulgar sight of his used, exploited dick as if it's innocent and cute. Nothing could be farther from the truth. Sebastian has never experienced something so filthy.

As insane as Chris is driving him, caressing him with one hand while he's driving in and out of him ruthlessly, fucking him out of his goddamn mind, Sebastian can't do a single thing about it.

Touched.

Fucked.

Groped.

Helpless, Sebastian is spread thin like butter soaking into hot toast with his hands tied to each opposite corner of the headboard. He's anchored there by Chris' silk neckties, a caress of possessive hands in of themselves, scented with Chris' favorite cologne and normally hung around his neck in the presence of wealthy, powerful people when they're not immobilizing his favorite boy. His arms are spread to their limit, muscles straining deliciously, pinned at the wrist. There's no hope of escape. Sebastian wouldn't dream of moving anyway. He's too good. He wants to live here like this, no matter how crazy it makes him feel.

He's crying, sweating, or drooling maybe? What's the difference anyway? Either way, he's wet. And he's moaning high in his throat, gasping, raw, and rattled harshly by how exquisitely he's being pounded. Loving it. He can't get enough of it, even as it boils over and becomes way, way too much. Overstimulation isn't a strong enough word. It's beyond.

Sebastian's legs aren't tied like his arms, but they are quivering and held tightly around Chris' trim waist, curled so tightly that his heels dig into his feverish body. Clinging.

As he's fucked--harshly, obscenely--Sebastian's near-incoherent pleas have degraded from begging, bitten-off sounds that seek permission to cum to high noises that plead for Chris to cum. He wants Chris to cum in him. Chris hasn't orgasmed yet, he's been too busy. Preoccupied with Sebastian, all needy and aching.

Somehow, somewhere, at some fucking point, Chris began this torture by rimming Sebastian open. Chris bodily pressed him into the bed and spread him, pushing him face down, ass up to devour his way through him. Eating him out. Getting him so fucking wet. Teasing his skin with his facial hair until Seb was red and lushly sensitive between his cheeks and Chris' beared jaw was soaked, Sebastian's taste thick on his wicked tongue. He made Sebastian spill over that way, the slick, hot feeling of his lips and tongue and teeth and beard irresistible. Then. Then, as if he wasn't already wiped out, boneless, and sweetly moldable, Chris had to keep going.

He folded him up, pushing him to his knees, keeping his arms underneath his chest, perfect for teasing his own nipples if only he had enough coordination, and fingered him. Chris made him sloppier, looser on his thick fingers. Three of them. God. He spanked his ass, too, using his other hand knowing Seb's always weak for the white-hot pain. It was out of Seb's control to not clench and squirm, tightening him around his fingers, helping Chris press and rub his prostate until he couldn't stop it anymore and he had to overflow. Pouring. Cumming again. And after-!

After, Chris fucked him with his dick for the first time today. Not the last time. No, of course not, why would he ever fuck Sebastian once when he could luxuriate in the pleasure of sticking it in him aaaaall day.

Guh.

Sebastian was so focused on how heavy and full of cock he felt--split open and speared through his belly into his throat, choking on it--that he doesn't even know if he orgasmed again or not. Maybe he did more than once, maybe he didn't at all without Chris' fist around his then hard cock. He doesn't remember. Just his dick, that's all he remembers feeling. It felt so good. Before Chris had the satisfaction of riding his ass to notification, though, he ripped himself away like a lion from a fresh kill. All for the purpose of playing with his food before he feasted. A true feline, then. Full of blood lust but really just pure lust.

Chris made room for himself inside Sebastian's throbbing body, used him for as long as he pleased, fucking him, and then stuffed him with a vibrator. Because...

Why not?

What else is he good for?

Nggghh.

Sebastian came that way, too, teeth chattering against the torrent of pleasure flowing through him electrically. It was raw, clenching, and so incredibly sensitive. He emptied himself.

And so Seb feels hollow of anything more to give. He's given it all. What's left is everything Chris has stuffed inside of him, molten heat. And despite the lust inside him, filling him, he can't get it back up. He's not going to be able to cum again even though, paradoxically, everything makes him feel like he's cumming. He's stuck, pinned down in a reverent, flowing, liquified state like a white-water rapid river. Everything runs and bleeds together here, in this moment, it's like wet paint. The only picture that could possibly be painted this way is one of pure ecstasy.

Towering over him, heavy and scorching, Chris hoarsely groans. He's back inside him after teasing him with that godforsaken vibrator, and it's wearing them both down fervently. "Y-you want me so bad," he taunts him as if he isn't working him over so good he's making him stupid, forgetting his own name with his dick grinding deep enough to make it hard to breathe, choking. "You want anything of me you can get, don't'cha, baby?" It's a question, but Chris already knows the answer and he fucking knows it well. "You'll take anything, isn't that right, honey?"

Seb has been stripped down too far to be anything but embarrassingly honest. Frantically, he whimpers through a fast, uncoordinated nod.

"I'll give you what you need, sweet thing," he promises, voice rough like a barely caged animal. So tantalizingly close to feral.

Sebastian believes him, god, he believes him with everything he has. Of course, he will. He always does.

"Open," Chris demands, cocky because, naturally, Seb does, just like Chris knows he will. He's delightfully sweet and predictable, after all.

Sebastian does it thoughtlessly, groaning with the spear of pleasure that shoves into him just from being good and obedient like he craves. And without his hips missing a beat, Chris resettles his weight, holding himself up with just one strong arm as he delivers on his promise to give him what he needs--sticking two fingers between Sebastian's gaping, swollen lips.

His lips are all puffy and red because he couldn't quit biting his bottom lip earlier, when he had more control over his own body and motor function, before he melted into a puddle and stayed all open and lax.

Fingers between those glistening, red lips, Chris presses down on his tongue to drag his jaw open wider. Just because he can. Then, he spreads his fingers apart as much as he can, feeling the velvet of the insides of Sebastian's cheeks on his index and middle finger, making a V-shape in his mouth. And while he's at it, teasing, already, Seb has started to drool, his salivary glands tingling, his whole face tingling--he knows this is embarrassing, somewhere, in the muffled, turned-down logical part of his mind that takes a backseat whenever Chris starts touching him, turning him on, but Seb doesn't fucking care that it's embarrassing beyond the heat it brings. Feeling hotter. All he cares about is being good and wet and open for Chris.

All his holes good and wet and open.

Invading his mouth, Chris leans in to do the same to his personal space. His frame dangerous and looming, predatory almost, as he puts their faces close together, posturing up as if he's going to knock him out with a lush, filthy kiss--like he's going to fuck his mouth with his tongue and claim him further. But he doesn't. Chris does something better.

Chris gets so fucking close to him, weighing on him, pressing him hard into the bed, and...

Spits in his mouth.

Sebastian's entire world breaks from its axis. The sound that leaves him in response to having Chris' spit in his mouth, wet on his already drooling tongue, is nothing short of pornographic.

And, oh fuck, the sensation of being claimed so tabboo-ly, spit on, defiled and dirtied, in tandem with the grin that splits Chris' handsome face has Sebastian moaning worse. More. The sound that was all rasp and punched-out turns into loud, molten lust. He's moaning as if he's cumming all over again, pleasure erupting. More than he can take. It's fucking awful. That sensation. The fucking look on Chris' fucking face--unhinged, sharp pleasure at being so in control and knowing that it's all Seb wants. It ruins Sebastian for everything else ever. Immediately. He's fucking gone.

Spoiled.

How is he ever supposed to get off any other way for the rest of his life? That fucking grin. Sharp and predatory and knowing. He knows exactly what he does to Sebastian--how he devastates him and tears him down, stripping him to exposed nerves that sing only for Chris.

All Seb can do is swallow. He swallows again, too. He wants it. He wants all of it so badly.

"You'll take even that, won't you?" Chris' hand not holding himself up to keep rolling his hips, keep fucking him, is suddenly at his throat, pressing, blunt fingernails digging in so his pulse throbs through him like a drum beat so harshly by a fist that it nearly bursts.

Ah!

His thick, strong fingers are still wet with Sebastian's and Chris' own spit. Mixed into a terrible, incredible cocktail. Messy and hot and now smeared into his skin like a sizzling brand. He's owned.

Sebastian swallows a kitten-ish mewl, mortifying in its desperation, only to embarrass himself worse when he can't choke back his assent, "mmmh, mmm-hhm!" He moans. He sobs, "th-thank you."

Chris' fingers bite harder into his throat, and Sebastian hears an angel's choir, "ohh, Seb," his rough, low voice purrs, "what a good boy, such good manners after you get what you want. Look at you, aren't you sweet?"

The only thing that Sebastian's body is capable of doing it quivering, sobbing harder. "Pluh-pleeease!" He cries.

Chris knows what he wants, and beyond, Chris knows what he needs.

Seb might think he's begging for Chris to cum--use him, fill him, fuck him--but Chris just spits into his mouth again. This time, some of it gets on his cheeks and chin, too.

Sebastian was already cracked open and exposed, but then, right fucking then, he shatters. His tongue lolls from his mouth, wanting it all, licking his buzzing, swollen lips, and swallowing his spit.

JesusfuckingChrist.

He's such a mess. It's painted all over his face. He's so wet. And he, he, he just vacates his overwhelmed body and floats, so entirely, perfectly used and consumed, he doesn't need to do anything. So he doesn't. Sebastian hovers. Weightless clouds and spun cotton candy, nothing but desired as Chris has his way with him, doing everything, anything to him. Wring orgasms out of his body, bleeding him dry. Fuck him. Fill him with his release. Spit on him--spit in his mouth. Yes. Yes. Yes.