#is this considered a drabble?

[minjiarchive]

“how many spanks was that?” | sua x fem!reader

back from break, tysm for the support and patience. thought a bora drabble would be a nice comeback 🥹 i was too lazy to add capitalization btw lol

warning / smut, dumbification, mommy kink, spanking, name use of puppy, and mistress for bora!

“how many spanks was that?”

you couldn't seem to recall the last number you counted to and not even a bullshit excuse would save you. the number of spanks slip past your brain and you're more so focused on the stinging pain she causes with each slap. bora's strong, her small hands underestimating you and holding enough strength to have you whining (and cumming).

and if she wanted to, making you cry so prettily for her which is her favorite.

“i-i don't know, mommy.”

bora feels like giving more grace today, letting some things slide and slip up but still remembering her dominance and her place.

“aww, you dumb puppy...” she cooed, running her warm hands up your back until she reached your hair. bora yanks at it roughly, causing you to let out a gasp as she pulls you up.

she stops at your ear and leans in, “so ruined and spent for me that you can't even count?”

“i know my baby is smarter than that.”

you whimper at the praise, bora slowly pushing you back down onto the mattress while still having a tight grip on your hair. you aren't that ruined yet, just a little dumbfounded.

“please, it's so hard–” you protest but bora quickly silences you.

“it's not.”

she rubs one cheek to soothe the lingering pain from earlier and your eyes immediately shut, preparing yourself for another hard smack. but bora speaks, “i can be here all night spanking you.”

bora doesn't seem to budge and is very set on 20 spanks. there's no way you could get past her either, you wanted to cum so bad that you forgot to ask permission, which is the only thing bora doesn't take lightly.

“mommy's not letting you cum until you can count to 20 properly,” bora smiles when she feels your ass rubbing against her front, whimpering like a cute puppy for her.

you look back at her with as much desperation in your eyes, your silent way of saying “please.” but she doesn't pay any attention to it. bora pushes your face into the bedding, bending you over for another round, “be a good puppy, won't you?”

“yes, mistress.”

“good, now let's start from one.”

#is this considered a drabble? #maybe not #dreamcatcher scenarios #dreamcatcher imagines #dreamcatcher x reader #dreamcatcher smut #dreamcatcher #sua x reader #sua imagines #sua scenarios #sua smut #wlw #wlw smut #kpop smut

[khai-luvs-to-write]

Compromises

[A/N] this was made based off of a comment I made on a different fanfic (good luck trying to find it >:) also spoiler alert this takes place after the students move into dorms

It's been about...a year since you first enrolled into U.A. and about eight months since you were transferred into Class 1A, and three or four months since you moved into the dorms, you think...you can't remember. 

The past few months have been eventful, to say the least, with everything that went on with your class alone. Sometimes you sit and wonder why the LOV is targeting your class specifically, and not the entire school. But at the same time, if you hadn't enrolled and got yourself into this mess of a class(no offense), you wouldn't have had the chance to meet all these amazing people along the way. You've made so many friends in not only your class, but at U.A. in general.

Not to mention, you met the boy you believe to be the love of your life.

You and the representative of your class, your loving boyfriend, Tenya Iida have been dating for a while. If you had to be technical, you'd say about, four or five months, you guys have been together, with no breaks. And boy, these have been the best four or five months of your life. He always makes sure you feel cared for, and important, and always respects you and your boundaries. 

Although in certain spots, you guys are total opposites. You prefer, no, enjoy PDA, while he prefers and enjoys to be affectionate in private. He prefers to be ahead of schedule and study later lessons, while you prefer to watch the same shows for who knows how many times in a row just for "the fun of it". He prefers to eat healthy snacks, while you prefer to see how many bags of buttered popcorn you can eat before your lips go numb, and your tongue starts to tingle.

(this does not mean he is immune to the junk food you bring in. you can buy two whole bags of hot cheetos and he'd scold you for it and you'd catch him snacking on it at one or two in the morning because he couldn't sleep.)

No matter how different your personalities are from each other, you guys aren't afraid to talk it out, and make it work. For example, sometimes you two can be a ways from home, and can't just leave, but you're feeling really tired and everything's just draining you more than it usually would. In previous conversations, you expressed how important affection is to you, in some situations, as it helps ground you in scenarios where you may begin to shut down, or break down, depending on the circumstances. With that being said, when you're in that kind of predicament, and he notices you begin to shut down, he'll grab your hand and lightly brush the back of it with his thumb, just to let you know he's still here, and bring you back "Down to Earth", if you will.

Another example of a compromise you two agreed on is about your grades, and your skills.

You were aware that your grades weren't too great, but you still tried your hardest...you can't say that you got the results you were looking for. Iida found this out when you began showing up to class late, sleeping in class, etc. Everyone in class noticed that you were off, and your demeanor changed. He was worried for your physical and mental wellbeing, so after class he pulled you aside and asked if you were doing alright, and you can tell him if you need anything. After the entire class and some of your friends outside 1A and/or the Hero Course, you finally cave and tell him what was wrong. Because your grades have drastically dropped, you've been staying up really late studying, and still got the same results. Now knowing this, he agreed to help you almost immediately. Understanding that the both of you prefer to have a consistent schedule (somewhat, sometimes you'd forget, or have no motivation altogether), you two would take time to study 3 subjects (one assignment per subject) one day, and work out, and train the occasional other. 

And with training, comes finding a way to settle down after raising your adrenaline, and heart rate. Your favorite way to do so is to do one of those cheesy self care dates you see all over the internet. You understand that taking care of yourself is important, but sometimes you forget so you thought that if you turn it into a date, you'd be motivated to do it more often. Because of this, your new usual nightly routine with Iida consists of showering (not together you guys are in high school EW), getting in your pajamas, you both bought each other a set to match yours, so you guys usually go to bed matching, regardless of the fact that you guys don't sleep in the same room, skincare, "bubble fights" (you guys usually end up throwing suds at each other because either you or him put a fat blob of soap on the one's nose, and then the other makes a desperate attempt to get back at them for it, causing suds and water to go everywhere surrounding the two of you), brushing your teeth, doing your hair(regardless of length, or texture [says someone with 4c hair ;-;] if you so desire, or if you have any) walking you to your dorm because he refuses to let you walk him to his dorm, for some reason you forgot. One more embrace for the night, kisses on the forehead, exchanges of "Goodnights" and "I love yous", before going your separate ways, until you inevitably see each other in the morning.

I don't know if this counted as a drabble, I just put my thoughts into a document lol would this be considered a drabble, or just a list of headcannons with extended bullet points? 

Let me know what you guys prefer! Put in some requests!

1,018 words, including both author's notes.

#tenya iida x reader #my hero academia #iida x reader #tenya x reader #iida fluff #bnha fluff #bnha x gender neutral reader #mha drabbles #the love i have for this man oh my gosh #khai.writes #is this considered a drabble? #i should also tell you guys that I did post this on Wattpad #under my own account..this wasn't stolen lol

[baskeigh-ball]

posting some mind swap doodles to prove im still alive, so have a few headcanons :D

- Leo in Mikey's body is pure chaos, he has no boundaries when it comes to modifications to "his" body in order to feel more comfortable in his own skin. For example, he gave himself his old markings to cover up Mikey's spots (only around the eyes tho, the arm and leg markings would take way more time.) He loves using Mikey's mystic powers/weapons at first, but eventually feels too weird about it and switches to his own weapons/gear to cope

- Mikey reins him in whenever he gets a little too confident in using his mystic powers though. Mikey is always hovering nearby to make sure Leo doesn't decide to go overboard, fully aware of Leo's lack of awareness when it comes to his physical limits, let alone when he's in someone else's body

- Raph is on the opposite side of the spectrum as far as modifications go, only willing to give Donnie his tech back and wear arm wraps to feel more like himself.

- The only tech he has to keep is the battle shell, especially after realizing just how fragile Donnie's body really is. He becomes refuses to take it off for days at a time, and when he does finally take it off, he's extremely paranoid and puts himself in the safest spot possible: his own room, bundled up in pillows and blankets.

- He also is woefully ignorant in how the battle shell is operated, so it goes haywire pretty often in the beginning. Donnie has to be nearby and ready to be damage control for a long time before Raph becomes confident enough to operate the battle shell's most basic functions.

#i have so many blurbs for this au #but i'm too lazy to draw it out #seriously considering posting the stuff i've written for the au to pick up the slack but that sounds pretty scary ngl #mind swap drabbles #rottmnt mind swap #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #technically rottmnt donnie #rottmnt #my art #rottmnt fanart

[nariism]

ೃ⁀➷ MY LOVE, MINE ALL MINE ★

a/n: fluff!! neuvillette being a touch starved loser (affectionate) + lots of terms of endearment. happy belated neuvillette day! may all neuvillette wanters be neuvillette havers ≧◡≦

Neuvillette can't stand coming home if not into your arms.

The deafening silence of a sleeping home drives him mad. It used to be welcomed after his terribly loud days. Now only serves to remind him of the millennium he spent alone, of the heartbreak he had to endure with no one to hold him, and of the growing emptiness within his heart long before he knew you.

It's unlike him to come home so late, but duty calls and as the Iudex of Fontaine he must go wherever summoned.

For days he has come home well into the latest hours of the night, sliding off his shoes in the darkness of the hall and allowing the silence to swallow him up whole. Five unbearably long days of missing your smile greeting him at the door, hands all over his face and squeezing his cheeks until he nudges them away in lieu of kissing you hello.

He expects tonight to be the same. It's so late that there was not a single soul wandering the streets of the city, no one awake to witness the very tired, very cranky Chief Justice.

You always find a way to defy his expectations.

The hall is quiet when he cracks open the front door. Crushing loneliness swells in his chest and sinks into the pit of his stomach when he realizes that you must have gone to bed long ago, as anyone sane would do. But then there's a click, followed by a small flame dancing in the dark.

You ignite an array of candles one by one, each additional glow illuminating your beautiful face in warm light. Neuvillette can't stop the hitching of his breath, nor the confusion knitted through his brows.

"What are you doing awake?"

You know he doesn't mean to scold you. Soft laughter fills his ears as you saunter over to him slowly. Realization crashes down on him as you approach, allowing him to see closer what has kept you up.

"Happy birthday, my love."

It's so late that midnight passed hours ago. He hadn't even realized amongst all the chaos of his work that the 17th had come and gone, making way for his birthday.

Only you would remember. It was a talent you had, memorizing every detail about him that sometimes even he lost track of.

("Neuvillette, dear, I picked up some dark roast on the way home today." He didn't even realize he had run out.

"Welcome home, I made ragout!" He wasn't aware he was craving it until you brought it up.

"Do you want this?" It's the last cookie in the bag, saved especially for him because you know it's from his favourite bakery in town.)

He leans in and blows out his candles, eyes never leaving yours as he blinks at you slowly. You look so beautiful even now, in the dimly moonlit hall. Darkness envelops your bodies again and yet he never tears his gaze away. Not even for a moment.

"Now put the cake down, please."

"Hm?" Your head tilts, clearly confused by his request.

"So I can hold you," he quickly explains, fingers itching at his sides because of how much he aches to hug you.

You gently set the cake down on the entrance table before you get scooped into a warm embrace, pressed snuggly to his chest as he memorizes the outline of your body against his once more.

"I've missed you, my dear," he says, face burrowed into the crook of your neck.

"It's only been a couple days," you laugh, and then remind him: "I see you every day at lunch."

"No, this is different." He pulls away slightly, forehead pressed against yours as he looks into your eyes. There's something in there— vulnerability and love all mixed into a beautiful purple harmony. "I miss coming home into your arms after long days," he admits.

"Oh, love," you breathe, reaching up to cup his face the way he's so used to. "Things will settle down again soon."

His eyes close as he savours your presence, soaking up all the affection you're giving him in his moment of weakness. You've always spoiled him.

"I suppose so," he agrees, a smile finally settling on his lips. Your thumb runs along it, tracing the curve of his happiness. There's a beat of silence before you open your mouth again.

"What did you wish for?" You ask curiously, voice growing quieter as you lean in to kiss him. And the answer he gives comes naturally.

Neuvillette has always wished for things he read about in novels; imaginary promises of treasure and desire and fame, sealed with the wispy smoke of blown out birthday candles. He isn't even sure if he has ever actually wanted any of those. But as he looks at you, with the slow beating of his heart and the brushing of your lips against him, he can't think of a single thing he could want more than this.

"I did not wish for anything," he tells you honestly, giving your waist a squeeze. "I already have everything I could ever want."

© ALABOADOA 2023 — please do not translate or post my works to other platforms.

#— whispers in the wind ✧ #it is NOT his bday but consider this my 3 month early submission for his bday i guess #also minimally proofread #genshin #genshin impact #genshin fluff #genshin impact fluff #genshin drabbles #genshin impact drabbles #neuvillette #neuvillette x reader #neuvillette x you #neuvillette x y/n #neuvillette x gender neutral reader #neuvillette x gn reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact x you #genshin impact x gn reader #genshin impact x gender neutral reader #neuvillette genshin #neuvillette fluff

[alicewonderao3]

"Is he gone?"

She pushed the door open, poking her head out slowly. "Is he gone?" She asked the chickens, listening to their soft clucking noises. She reached for the bucket of chicken feed, scattering grain on the ground for the chickens.

"He asked me to marry him." She stated, staring down at the red and white chickens as they pecked the ground at her feet. "Can you imagine it?" She threw more grain on the ground, anger seeping through her voice as she spat, "Me? The wife of that boorish, brainless man?"

The chickens said nothing, just pecked the grain and stared up at her. They offered no soothing words, no sound of comfort. She huffed again, remembering how confident James had been as he described their life together. She tossed the empty bucket on the ground with a huff, the chickens scattering with loud clucks.

She clenched her fists together. No. She wouldn't be. She couldn't be. She'd been refusing Lord Barnes proposals for months now. She stalked away from the chickens, past the horses to the wide meadow. "Lady Barnes." She tested the word on her tongue, hating how it sounded.

She stood there in the grassy meadow, surrounded by flowers. Her heart still longed for adventure. She wanted to visit faraway lands and escape the small town. She wanted it more than she knew. She settled on the grass and laid back, closing her eyes. She wished someone, somewhere out there understood that.

But she knew James would be back. He was brainless- but persistent. She didn't know how much longer he would accept her refusal. She didn't know how much longer she had until he made the decision for her. She fought the rising panic that swelled in her chest at the thought. It was time. Time to run.

#is this considered a drabble? #I had dark!bucky in mind when I wrote this #Was watching beauty and the beast

[hanafubukki]

Thinking about Baby Malleus being mad at Lilia.

Baby Malleus who has some control of his powers and uses it to find the darkest and deepest corner of the castle that’s hard to reach.

He would fit, whether it’s under a bed or in some corner of a room being covered by wardrobes or something, and he would stay there.

He’s angry at Lilia and won’t come out. Lilia is too big to reach him and his arms too short. There’s some magic at play too.

Baby Malleus would stare at him petulantly and turn away in a huff. Lilia pleading for Malleus to come out and he can’t do anything because his magic is stronger than he expected.

Lilia didn’t know what was worse.

Malleus throwing a tantrum and burning his hair or this.

Where Malleus is oddly quiet and out of reach.

[It reminds Lilia of those times when Malleus was still in his egg. When he was trying desperately to hatch him. He was just as quiet and lonely. It makes Lilia that much more desperate.]

And it’s definitely this, when he’s so far away from him. It makes his heart ache.

When Malleus calms down and he’s in Lilia’s arms once more, Lilia breaths a sigh of relief. His arms that much tighter around the little one.

He won’t loose him again.

His son.

#lilia vanrouge #malleus draconia #baby dragon malleus #or could be toddler malleus too #twst book 7 #diasomnia #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twst #twst headcanons #twst drabbles #twst platonic #twst lilia #twst lilia vanrouge #twst malleus draconia #once upon a dream au #disney twisted wonderland #could be part of the au or could be considered headcanon/canon #I like both and can apply it to both

[onyourowndaisymae]

lucifer is a very particular man.

he wakes up early to enjoy the peace and quiet of the morning, the way the house of lamentation creaks wearily in the silence while his brothers sleep sounds in the their respective rooms. it's sobering. for a moment, he gets to be alone with his thoughts before the day begins.

he'll walk to the bathroom and clean himself up for the day in silence, before dressing and making his way to the kitchen. he appreciates the little things. the silence, the warm light illuminating his room as he unhurriedly prepares for the day, the way the permanent darkness of the devildom retreats ever so slightly as morning breaks. it's nice.

but when he enters the kitchen, lucifer realizes something is wrong. it takes him a minute to realize it, but when he does, his lips curl downwards into a disappointed frown. the kitchen is completely dormant. it doesn't seem like an issue, but it's a stark difference from his usual routine. because this morning, the smell of coffee is absent from the air.

that's right. you spent the night at purgatory hall last night, didn't you?

your relationship is a cycle of small, considerate gestures back and forth. notes on mirrors, doodles on post-it notes, and his favorite-- coffee prepped and scheduled to brew for him in the mornings before he wakes. it's a gesture that has always made him feel loved. he didn't realize how much a missed day would sour his mood.

lucifer starts to brew his own coffee, but his fingers hang suspended over the grounds a few moments before he abandons the idea altogether. he pulls his D.D.D. out of his packet and drafts a short text to you, only satisfied when he hears the whoosh of the message sent.

i missed your coffee this morning. it's never as good when i have to make it myself. message me once you wake up-- we're going to that cafe we like down the street to make up for it.

#in case this wasn't clear: there are some coffee makers you can set to brew in advance #like you can put the grounds in the night before and then set it to start in the morning while you're getting ready #my parents used to do it #anyways #is this canon considering they don't understand kitchen gadgets in s3? probably not. oh well #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me nightbringer #obey me nb #obey me lucifer #obey me lucifer x reader #obey me drabbles #obey me imagines #otome

[metalhoops]

Inspired by this post

Steve had watched the world end a hundred different ways. He’d lived the same day more times than he could count, watching the people he loved die or feeling himself die. There were things worse than death. There were memories he didn’t dredge up for fear of calling them into the waking world.

He'd held onto hope for the first twenty recurrent days, which had dwindled to a sense of steely determination until he’d lost count of the days. Then all that was left was the comfort of repetition. He was Sisyphus pushing the boulder up the hill, day in and day out. Steve kept trying and failing to save Eddie until it was all he knew.

Maybe he was Prometheus, who stole fire from the gods and spent his life paying for it, tied to a rock while birds picked at his liver, only for it to grow back with each morning. Prometheus whose name, by definition, means forethought; one’s ability to consider possible futures. Steve had spent a small lifetime considering futures. It wasn’t a comparison he would’ve made on his own. That was Eddie, who’d spent his childhood with his head in thick tomes of fantasy and mythology.

Eddie Munson came to him like cheap furniture, in crudely disassembled pieces that Steve had been working tirelessly to put together. Each new loop brought him another piece of Eddie. His favourite colour was blue. He only woke up early on weekends to watch cartoons. He liked too much cream in his coffee.

The Eddie that existed in a world where Steve stayed with him and Dustin during the swarm of bats had told Steve his biggest dream was to make enough money to buy Uncle Wayne a proper home. His biggest fear was that when he died, no one would remember him.

Days or months later, with Steve repeating the same damn day, he’d finally learnt why Eddie’s love for his uncle ran so deep. Wayne had taken him in before his dad went to jail when the man caught Eddie holding another boy’s hand. In that world, Steve had stayed with Eddie in the RV as the rest of the group searched War Zone.  

Eddie’s mother died when he was six. He’d told Steve that later, or earlier. Steve had and has lost his sense of past and present. Eddie loved his mother deeply, though was unsure if that love had been misplaced. He recalled two mothers, one who read him bedtime stories and threw herself around the kitchen each morning with her wild theatrics and another mother who was distant and whose temper could turn on a dime. Eddie wasn’t sure which of those mothers was his and which was the mother of memory. All good storytellers know the story shapes itself in the retelling. Eddie’s mother was Janus, god of duality.

Steve understood. He loved and hated his parents. These feelings weren’t mutually exclusive. Steve loved Eddie because he’d spent the last hundred-odd days getting to know him, but Steve hated Eddie because he kept dying. Until he didn’t.

The boys lay side by side in the red-blue soil of The Upside Down, their bleeding sides caked with mud and demonic bat viscera. In the end, Steve wasn’t sure what’d done it. It’d been so long since he’d lived Eddie’s original death that it’d been smeared by the haze of memory and conjecture. All he knew was that a sea of bats lay dead around them and that it was over. Finally, over.

Steve removed his hand from where it was pressed into his side and extended it to ensnare Eddie’s. He felt muscles tug and tear from the walls of his ribs with the effort. Blood flowed freely from the cavity, but Steve didn’t care. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand. Holy shit, they’d done it.

Somewhere along the way, Steve had fallen in love. It’d taken him ten more iterations to reconcile with the fact he could not only like a man but love him.  That was months ago, in Steve’s time. It was old news. “Steve, you still with me?” Eddie asked, his voice horse.

He was hurt, though not as badly as Steve. All his wounds were superficial. He’d be okay. Steve had been so sick of watching Eddie die, he’d been willing to put his body on the line to make sure it didn’t happen again.

In this loop, he was still ‘Steve’, not ‘Stevie’. They hadn’t grown close enough yet. Eddie only called him ‘sweetheart’ in the iterations where they kissed. Steve wanted to kiss him, but there was the taste of iron in his mouth.

“I’m okay,” Steve insisted, squeezing Eddie’s hand. He felt a sharp pain shoot through his side as Eddie pressed his hand into Steve’s wound.

“Christ, there’s a lot of blood,” Eddie muttered to himself. 

He was bad with blood. He’d scraped his knee down to the bone when he was seven and ever since, the sight of gore made him queasy. Steve wasn’t meant to know that yet. In this iteration, he hadn’t told Eddie about the loop. He’d tried before, but it never helped.

Pain and blood loss drag Steve down into a familiar oblivion. He expected to wake at the beginning of the loop, emerging in The Upside Down from Lover’s Lake, but instead, he found himself in a hospital room with Eddie in a bed by his side. It was late, too late for visitors, but Eddie wasn’t sleeping. His eyes were trained on Steve, equal parts concerned and curious.

“You scared the shit out of me,” Eddie confessed, as Steve’s eyes met his. 

Steve wanted to cry or scream. He wanted to untangle himself from the knot of cords and tubes to crawl beside Eddie in bed as they had curled up together in the back of the RV dozens of times before. He needed to hold Eddie to know he was alive, to understand he wasn’t going anywhere. Steve blinked away tears, balling his hands into fists. He didn’t want to scare Eddie.

“I scared you?” Steve choked out a mixture between a laugh and a sob.

Eddie didn’t know what to do. He never knew what to do when people cried. Steve learned that in the iteration where they’d lost Dustin. He didn’t want to think about it.  

“You almost died, man,” Eddie explained.

He somehow understood Steve wanted him closer. Eddie got out of bed, clutching his I.V. drip as he flopped into the chair by Steve’s bedside. He wanted to hold Eddie’s hand again, but he was out of excuses. He could tell him the truth, but he didn’t know what good it would do.

Steve was still used to thinking of possible futures. He was Prometheus who, unlike Sisyphus, escaped his torment. Steve wondered what happened to Prometheus after he was rescued. Did he return to a normal life? Does anyone bother to ask? Prometheus’ story is always about punishment. Afterwards, he was a footnote in the story of Hercules, but once the heroes leave the story, what’s left?

Eddie would know the answer, but it wasn’t a conversation he’d had with this Eddie. That Eddie was dead. This Eddie was and wasn’t him. This Eddie was Janus, god of abstract duality, god of beginnings and ends, god of life and death.

“Sorry my lame-ass face is the first one you had to see. Robin and the kids were in here all day. Wheeler left flowers,” Eddie tacked on awkwardly.

This Eddie didn’t know Steve. They were strangers. Of course, things were awkward. He couldn’t know he was the one person Steve wanted to see more than anything.

“No, Ed’s—.” Slip of the tongue.

“Eddie. I’m really glad you’re here, man.”

They were back to square one, but Steve could work with that. He’d been working with that for months. This time, Eddie would remember. This time, they had the luxury of taking things slow.

“One thing’s been bugging me all day,” Steve began.

After hundreds of days of getting to know Eddie, Steve had learnt a few shortcuts, a few ways to jump-start his way into Eddie’s heart.

“Can you explain what the hell Mordor is?”

It was a tried-and-true method. By that point, Steve knew Eddie’s response off by heart, but he wanted to hear him say it. Eddie gave him the same perplexed look he always did when Steve asked. It was as though Eddie thought he knew too much like there was some secret he wasn’t letting him in on, but he didn’t challenge Steve on it. He never did.

“Harrington, have you heard of Lord of the Rings?” Yes.

“No.” A million times.

“Tell me about it.”

Read Part 2 Here

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #drabble #ficlet #Metalhoops writes #I read the post yesterday #and I've been thinking about it ever since #the plot kind of ran away with itself #but I like how it turned out #I'm considering a part 2 #from Eddie's point of few in the weeks/ months that follow #depending on if people are interested #shoutout to #@theamazingbard #for the idea

[thief-of-eggs]

Thinking about an omegaverse radioapple au (still with asexual Alastor) where Alastor is always on suppressants- he hasn’t had a heat in ages (and when he does, they’re never the most pleasant, seeing as he’d rather die than take a lover to bed, even if it would ease the pain)

But having all the new inhabitants in the hotel messes with things, and then he misses a dose of his suppressants and before he knows it- he can feel a heat coming on.

Lucifer can scent it on him, no matter how much the demon tries to hide it. He picks up the particular sweetness of it one night, after Alastor had been missing all day, and with concern growing in his gut- he follows it.

He follows the scent until he’s at Alastor’s bedroom, and he knows he shouldn’t enter- they’ve been together for a little while, but their relationship is still shaky, and if Alastor chose to go to his own bedroom instead of the one they share, then he must have wanted pace- and Lucifer is just about to turn away, until he hears a pained moan, and he can’t help himself.

He pushes inside, finding Alastor laying in a ball in the corner of his room, curled up in a mound of blankets and pillows, shirts of Lucifer’s in his little nest, little pieces of his favorite person scattered around him- and he looks terrible.

His ears are flat on his head, his whole body is trembling and covered in sweat. He doesn’t even notice Lucifer come in, not until the angel is standing before him-

“Leave,” he spits, even as Lucifer’s calming scent washes over him. His whole body aches, every muscle screaming.

Lucifer pauses, his heart aching to see Alastor so pained. “Isn’t there anything I can do to help?”

And Alastor is about to tell him to go fuck himself, when Lucifer suddenly sinks to his knees, reaching out to brush the hair from Alastor’s face- and the contact eases a bit of the fire in his skin, soothes a bit of the raging in his gut.

He doesn’t push him away. Instead, despite himself, he leans his cheek into Lucifer’s palm. Closing his eyes as he breathes in the familiar scent of his alpha.

He hates everything about the position he’s in. Hates how vulnerable, how exposed, how utterly pathetic he is. But the longer Lucifer stays beside him, his scent filling Alastor’s lungs- the more he finds he cannot bear to drive Lucifer out.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t express what he needs, doesn’t communicate his wants. He just grabs Lucifer’s wrist and pulls him closer, tugging the blonde into his little nest, where he promptly curls up in his arms.

It’s more contact than he usually allows, but for once, his skin is not prickling every place they meet. Instead, his body feels warm from Lucifer’s touch, a pleasant glow filling his whole being.

Perhaps this is how touch often feels for everyone else.

Lucifer stays with him then, until the worst of his heat is over. Fully clothed, they lay in eachother’s embrace, Alastor allowing Lucifer to scent him, allowing him to card his fingers through his hair, allowing him to run his hand up and down his back.

It’s awful. It’s humiliating.

And it’s also the first time one of his heats has ever been bearable.

(edit: i made this a fic!!! read it here!)

#fuck i wanna make this a whole fic now #the concept of asexuality in the omegaverse is something i never considered before but omg??? i kinda like it #appleradio #radioapple #duckiedeer #omegaverse #lucifer x alastor #alastor #hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #lucifer magne #omega alastor #alpha lucifer #radioapple drabble #asexual alastor

[spamgyu]

COLLEGE!Mingyu AU - dates and confessions

no bc college!mingyu as someone who lives down the hall from your dorm and you always run into him doing something questionable

REQUEST: heard that collage Mingyu is finally getting ahead in his love life with Oc and the oc might confess. Sooo what if Mingyu tells oc that he is going on date and OC gets jealous ->gets to know that she likes him and boom she confesses

[College!Mingyu Masterlist]

She didn't want to admit it.

Not to herself, not aloud, not to her brother, not to her parents, and definitely not to him.

Y/n had fallen for Mingyu.

She could have sworn it would never happen, only seeing him as friend... who just happened to make her laugh and smile, even during days when she felt like the world was against her.

And sure, she may have found herself wanting to spend more and more time with him – agreeing to all his invitations to eat their meals together, hang out in his dorm room, and late night study sessions in the library.

It wasn't until she found herself absentmindedly staring at him as he placed their coffee order at the counter, when she realized that maybe she saw him as more than a friend she enjoyed spending her free time with.

Y/n began to notice how much she loved seeing that stupid smile of his, the one that showcased those stupid cute fangs of his. Her heart skipping a beat each time he would casually sling his arm over her shoulder as they walked alongside each other. It was such a casual act that she didn't seem to pick up on it the first time he had done it – but as time went on, she felt as though her skin was on fire each time he made contact with her.

Of course, it didn't help that he was a shameless flirt, playfully hitting on her any chance he got.

Not only was she over analyzing his actions towards her but also his words.

The ones he most likely used on all the girls that were lined up to get even a crumb of attention from him.

God, she was one of them.

"How do I look?" He barged into her room – pulling her out of her brain rot.

"Why do you look so..." She trailed off, taking in his appearance. In all the times she had hung out with him, Y/n had only seen Mingyu in an outfit variation of hoodie, sweat pants, or shorts. For once, he was dressed ... presentable. Or at least, different from his usual rotation of casual wear.

It was simple outfit. A white tee, brown cardigan, white Sambas, and black chinos she could have sworn he purchased at UNIQLO during the time she had dragged him to the mall – not because she wanted to be with him.

No definitely not that.

He had a car on campus and she needed a ride.

"Good?" Mingyu completed her sentence with a smirk.

"Put together." Y/n corrected.

"Minghao is going on a date and she's bringing a friend."

Oh.

A date.

A double date.

He was going on a date.

"Ah..." She nodded, hiding the wave of disappointment that washed over her.

Of course he was going on a date.

Of course.

He was single, and she was just a friend.

Of course.

"You should wear your chain." She suggested.

"It's not too much?"

Y/n shook her head.

She loved that chain on him. That singular piece of jewelry had sent her over the moon the first time she had taken notice of it.

Y/n could remember that day so clearly.

It was a rainy day and Mingyu had insisted on grabbing dinner at a nearby tofu house instead of their usual on campus dining hall dinner dates.

Platonic dinner dates.

He had ordered his soup extra spicy and had shrugged off his puffer in the middle of their meal, sporting only his plain black tee and silver chain. Y/n nearly choked on her meal trying to suppress her gasp.

He looked good.

"Who's the girl?"

Mingyu shrugged, taking a seat on her bed. "Hopefully she's cool."

I hope she's lame and not his type.

"That's your main concern?"

"Yeah, I hate boring dates."

"You'll be fine. Just talk her ear off like you usually do with me."

"But it's easy with you because you're already my friend."

Friend. Ouch.

Y/n knew she had feelings towards him, but she didn't think it would be this bad – feeling the disappointment turn into jealousy.

Wanting to keep her composure, Y/n pretended to busy herself with the mess on her desk. "I still think you'll be fine."

"If it goes south, will you save me?"

"Have you seen yourself?" She snorted, placing her gel pens into their respective cup holder. "She'll probably do anything to make sure that date goes well."

"Did you just admit that I look good, y/n?" Mingyu chuckled.

Pausing her actions, Y/n whipped her head to see a smirking Mingyu – her eyes wide. "Oh god, you'll never let this go."

"You think I'm attractive?" He continued, hopping off her bed; making his way to her.

Taking a step back as he closed in on her, Y/n stretched out her arm to ensure he didn't come any closer. But he was persistent, taking another step as the smirk grew larger; her hand landing right on his chest.

His well defined chest that was always hidden under the baggy garments he chose to wear.

This is not good.

"Well, you're not ugly." She took another step back, withdrawing her arms back to her side.

"Why are you so red, I'm just playing." He chuckled, pinching the tip of her hot ears.

Her foundation was doing a great job of hiding the redness of her cheeks; she should have known when she felt the rush of warmth engulfing her face that her ears would give her away,

"My ears are always red." She leaned away from his touch.

It was a shitty excuse and they both knew it.

"Sure." Mingyu winked.

There he goes again with that stupid habit of his.

Y/n noticed that anytime he was feeling a little too flirty with her, he had a habit of winking whenever he would tease her. At first, she didn't care for it, but as time went on and as her feelings began to develop – she began to hate it.

Because of how well it suited him... and how she knew he most likely used this on other women.

It made her sick.

"Whatever." Y/n grumbled. "Aren't you going to be late?"

Mingyu shook his head. "You still have me for five minutes."

Have him.

Yeah, fucking right.

The most attractive guy on their school basketball team? The one that drew in girls who had little to no interest on the sport, cheering for him every time he would steal the ball from the opposing team? The one that had their whole floor swooning anytime he greeted them?

She'll never have him.

"Ugh, please just go." Y/n groaned, pushing him towards the door – but he was far stronger than her, standing his ground. "Mingyu please."

"I'll leave if you promise to get boba with me after."

So she can hear him talk about his date after? No thanks.

"I'm busy."

"Bullshit."

"I am! My roommate has been bothering me about going with her to sigma chi's–"

"A frat party?" He coughed in bewilderment.

It wasn't that he didn't believe her.

It was the fact that he did.

Images of her drinking in the mess of sweaty bodies, at some crappy poorly maintained home, with no one to look out for her, had caught him off guard.

There was no doubt she partied, he's heard stories of it.

But... Mingyu didn't think she would choose it over spending time with him.

Not since she had managed to agree to all his ideas of hanging out.

"We can go tomorrow." Y/n suggested.

"Fine.

・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．・゜゜・．

"Hey." A tap on her shoulder had drawn her attention from her conversation with Hansol, a guy from her biochem class.

Correction, the guy that had a hand on her passing the class; allowing for her and the rest of their lab group to copy off of his homework.

"Someone's outside looking for you." Her roommate continued.

Emphasizing on the word 'someone'.

"I'll be back." She excused herself from Hansol; squeezing past the mess of bodies that occupied the home.

Y/n let out a sigh of relief once she had reached the front yard, the cool spring air filling her lungs – a stark contrast to the humid air inside.

Scanning the row of parked cars, Y/n's eyes landed on the familiar black 90's Honda Civic; hazards blinking brightly.

"How was your date?" She bent down to peer into the opened window.

"Boring." Mingyu reached over to unlock the door. "Get in."

"I'm–"

Before she could finish her thought, Y/n found herself sliding into the front seat of his well maintained car. He had told her many stories of him and his father fixing up the vintage hatchback – most of his summer, and savings, going towards restoring his so called 'baby'.

She couldn't find a good enough excuse to stay; knowing that her roommate was far too occupied with her friend group they had run into when they had arrived.

Y/n absence wouldn't be missed.

Mingyu chuckled as she buckled herself in, throwing out the remaining liquid in her red cup.

Her father would kill her if they were caught drinking underage.

And if that wasn't enough, he would probably murder her if they were caught with an opened drink in a moving vehicle.

"What's so funny?"

"I knew you would get in the car." He smiled as he started the car back up.

"I– whatever." She also didn't have an excuse for this. "Was the girl cute?"

"No. Was your guy cute?"

"My guy?"

"Your roommate said you were talking to some guy." Mingyu recalled when he had called out to the girl who had gotten quite used to his presence in their room – asking for y/n's whereabouts.

"Kinda."

"Kinda." He made a face as he kept his eyes on the road.

"Yeah, I think you guys would be cute together." Y/n laughed at her own joke.

Mingyu's unpleased look changed to a smile, reaching over to give her cheek a poke. "Do you think I'm his type?"

"Oh yeah." She continued.

"What about you?"

"He's not my type."

"No I mean– Am I your type?"

"Yeah."

It was good thing the streets were empty at this hour, Mingyu's foot instantly stomping on the brakes – his arm reaching over to stop her body from lunging forward from his sudden actions. "What?" He whipped his head to face her.

He was only half joking; not thinking she would actually answer him seriously.

"What?" She blinked.

Y/n didn't realize she had accidentally blown her cover, their conversation going faster than her brain.

"You said–"

"No I didn't." Y/n replied quickly.

"Yeah you did." His eyes grew wide, almost as if he had fully processed what she had said. "You said I'm your type."

"Yeah but– okay you're tall, my parents like you, and you're smart–"

"Calm down," He chuckled at her flustered state. "You're my type too."

"Shut up." Y/n didn't want to completely buy it; he had been messing with her for as long as she could remember. For all she knows, this was just yet another moment he was doing just for shits and giggles.

"I'm serious."

"Yeah well, if you know someone who checks off those boxes–"

"Me, I check off those boxes."

"Not you."

"Why not?" Mingyu scoffed.

"You're just doing a bit."

Furrowing his brows, he tried to read her; not understanding why she was being so dismissive of him.

Usually when two people confess their feelings, or whatever this was, it was supposed to be sunshine and rainbows – it should be the pivotal moment of their relationship.

And yet, it seemed as though Y/n didn't want to acknowledge it.

Almost as if she didn't want it to be him.

"I– no yeah, it's so a bit." He rolled his eyes, his tone dripping in sarcasm.

"Come on, Mingyu. I'm just your coach's daughter he tried setting you up with. You don't have to keep up the act."

"Sure." Mingyu replied simply, resuming their drive to the boba shop they frequent just a few miles from the campus.

The silence was almost deafening as she attempted to muster up a single word to say.

Anything.

Say anything.

"You're not messing with me?" She toyed with the ends of her hair, keeping her focus on the split-end she was picking at.

"What made you think I was?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I've spent more time with you than I have with my friends, I changed my path to my calculus class so I can walk with you to your english class, I ditched my date–"

"You ditched your date?"

"I mean, they wanted to go to Seaside Donuts after and I said no." He turned to her as he slowed down at the red light. "I joke around, but I'm– I do have feelings for you."

Y/n peeled her eyes away from her hair, meeting his gaze.

She didn't want to believe all that he had confessed; just as she didn't want to believe her own feelings.

She knew he wasn't lying. She too has seen him more than she has seen her own friends in the past month and a half; her friends calling her out in their group chat about spending more time with Mingyu than with them.

It wasn't her fault that he was quick to make plans.

"Okay."

"Okay?"

"Okay, I believe you."

A smile began to creep on his lips, the one she adored so much – full fang and all. The one that was engraved in her head, making her heart flutter every time she thought of him and that stupid grin of his.

"So what does this make us?" He wiggled his brows.

"Friends."

"What the fuck?" Mingyu laughed.

"You just came back from a date, told me I'm your type and expect me to be putty in your hands?" She crossed her arms over her chest.

As if his smile couldn't get any bigger, Mingyu's lips stretched from ear to ear. "You were jealous?"

"Green." She nodded over to the light.

"Don't avoid my question."

"Not jealous. But not please either."

Mingyu reached over to give her cheek a poke; an action he found himself doing quite often.

He couldn't help it.

It was soft, and the pout she made every time he would do this was worth the light smack he would receive.

It was cute.

"I owed Hao a favor. It won't happen again."

"I don't care."

She did care.

She cared a lot.

She never wanted to feel that possessive towards him ever again. That was a nasty feeling, bubbling in her chest as she thought of him enjoying the company of someone that wasn't her.

What has he done to her?

"Yeah you do." He poked her again.

"Whatever." Y/n bit back the smile that threatened to form on her lips. "I have standards, you know. This doesn't change anything until I say so."

Y/n didn't think this was how she was going to tell him how she felt. She didn't think she would ever tell him, to be quite honest.

It wasn't the most ideal situation, she was sat in his car buzzed from the mixed drinks she had been sipping on earlier that night whilst they drove to get milk tea... after coming back from a double date...

It wasn't the romantic scene she had in her head.

"That's valid," He nodded. "What's one more box to check off, right?"

Mingyu had no issues with continuing to pursue her until it met her standard.

She was the one he wanted, after all.

@thegirlwhoimagined @ohmygodwhyareallusernamestaken @f4iryjjosh @akeminy @yonabutnotyuna @tacosandbitch @vanillacheol @aaniag @bettybotterboughtabitofbutter @xbaekcult @alwaysalmostthere @ashkuuuu @morkswatermelonnnnn @isabellah29 @lottogyu @bubbly-moon @lllucere @bo-fairykim @pluviophile-xxx @daegutowns @jenoxygen @niktwazny303 @aahvii @fragmentof-indifference @leah-rose03 @haolistic @eclliipsed @joshuahongnumbers @gyuguys @yaaaridk @christinewithluv

(for some reason it's not allowing me to tag some who wanted to be added to the perm tag list ... cries... pls check ur settings so i can for future posts)

#can't even consider this as a drabble anymore omfg..... #ANYWAYS UHHHHHHHHHHHH slowburn no more??? but also kinda??? i wanted mingyu to pine for her longer but I GUESS ILL BE NICE #this is scheduled im still taking my writing break #college!mingyu au #spamquest #mingyu x reader #mingyu x oc #mingyu drabble #mingyu fluff #mingyu scenarios

[nyxronomicon]

y'all decided it's Choso hours for me today huh

#gonna write a drabble about meeting him at this incredible gamer bar i was in last weekend #it was cozy as hell. secretly an excuse to write about the gamer bar #y'all I'm telling u. i was just visiting the city but I'd consider moving there just for that bar #anyway sorry this post was supposed to be about Choso lol #hijacked by my new boyfie the gamer bar 🤣🤣

[chaosfae-writes]

𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥

premise: the lioness gnaws on her favored maiden.

pairing: yandere!cersei lannister x poc!reader

warnings: abuse of power, gender identity issues (slight, but this is cersei), wlw, dead dove smut.

ao3

a/n: although I love show cersei, she was watered down a bit. I wanted to see more of her delulu side, and exploration of her gender issues. Sansa Stark cameo! Sansa is just a baby that needs protecting! <3 anyways, enjoy! <3 do not repost my works!

Cersei Lannister doesn’t have companions.

An unruly child grew into a woman with a crude tongue. Where she lacks empathy with a blackened heart, she makes up for her beauty and charm—- that only extends so far.

Golden locks, and fair skin—- with a temper of a lion. Deludes herself that she has been deprived of her inheritance to Casterly Rock, and is the true queen majesty of all seven kingdoms.

Everything belongs to her.

Her kingdom, her brother, her children —- even you.

A possessive creature. Her love only extends to what she craves, and what she sees in herself. And whenever she senses a threat upon her possessions, that anyone could snatch away her toys —- the lioness becomes irate.

A small council, and a small flock of handmaidens. Only a handful of maids are entrusted in the queen’s space, but only one to bear witness the queen at her rawest.

You are punished by her unsought favor.

To clean her, to dress her, a vessel for her to unburden herself on you. Mistakenly you offered sympathies as a woman one day —- perhaps, too kindly.

Prior, you were just a handmaiden blending in within the palace.

The late king had struck Cersei, you catered to her. Cleaning her split lip, all you spoke was that a queen should be respected, no matter what she has uttered.

All you did was to perform your duty as the queen’s servant … no ill will. Perhaps it’s your shyness, or your taught obedience that caught Cersei’s meticulous eye.

Eventually, she demanded more of you. Requesting your presence for everything, and eventually more demanding—- more touchy.

Dressing you in her house’s colors—- gold and deep red. Adorning you with luxurious fabrics, and discreetly pinning a lion brotchee upon your shoulder. It brought a wave of embarrassment, for such clothing is above your station.

Showering you with such gifts as a king does so to his paramour. It became abhorrent at times to nearby eyes—- more than once, you caught her father’s cold glare.

Conversing with you—- or rather at you, rambling on about her fits of rage upon her father’s lack of respect, how she isn’t respected as queen, how the small folk should be kissing her feet—- or how her little brother should’ve died at the birthing bed.

Delusions of greed and arrogance woven with the silk of self-wallowing, and pity.

Always touching.

Grazing your skin by the fingertips, her breath upon the slope of your neck, gripping your mound tightly as if she possesses any ownership. Sending Bernadette —- against the maid’s growing irate —- to fetch for you almost every fortnight.

To the point where you don’t even sleep in your own chambers anymore.

-

The traitorous wolf is dead.

Long love the youthful stag.

A feast, a celebration held by the newly crowned king. As he cheers over the death of one of the noblest men to live. A cruel boy who immulates his mother’s strife. A feast of dancing, and platters of luxurious food, merry music and jesters.

Seated beside Cersei, as well as her other maidens Bernadette and Senelle. Carefully, your eyes float a peek at the little dove seated beside Joffrey. Sansa is now a shell of the young girl she once was. Pity dwells within you, a somber child, who’s eyes never leave her lap.

You were once that child, once hopeful, only for life to beat you as if you were nothing. Life doesn’t spare the young, age has no limits.

You’re picking at the fruits and meats on your plate, rather bored at the royal nonsense. Gossip among ladies, and redundant chatter of politics among the lords —- it doesn’t pertain to you.

Never has, never will.

As a young girl, it bothered you. How unfair it was that the town folks suffer, as the noble float above the clouds with fine clothing, unending platters of food, and spoiled beyond their dreams.

Now, it doesn’t matter. The bitterness doesn’t matter. Grief to spite, to then an achromatic sense of life. You learned that you are no different than these flocks —- we all are born, then we die all the same, buried in the same soil we go.

But fantasies of escaping to the East, to the land of your ancestors —- to start anew keeps you hopeful. Meet someone, have a babe or two. Live on a farm fruitful of crops.

Lost in your thoughts, you don’t sense a presence looming nearby, ever so watching, gawking at its prey.

“May I have this dance?” A voice soaked in sultry warmth, beckoning and confident. Startling you to jump just a bit, turning over your shoulder, standing above you, is Jaime Lannister. Gold yellow hair, smooth and silky, and a confident smirk to match.

“Lord Commander.” You speak in a gasp, bowing your head respectfully. Jaime’s smile twitches, growing wider—- Lord Commander —- not many address him as such. It’s always Kingslayer , never an ounce to respect.

“May I have the pleasure of a dance?” Jaime’s tone is more smoother, his canines flashing as if he’s ready to bite.

Cersei’s eyes narrow, “Jaime, let her be.” She tries to keep her voice low. Jaime scuffs playfully, “ And why? All these squawking hens must be such a bore.” He turns to you with a boyish grin, making you laugh softly.

All it does is make Cersei more annoyed. She has been upset all evening—- rather all day. Cersei found you earlier in the morning tending to Sansa. The little girl was bruised and broken by the mongrel of Cersei’s beastly son.

Tending to Sansa felt wholesome, it filled a void inside you. Reminded you of how it felt to be a mother again.

It irritated something in Cersei, to see you so kind to another.

“Thank you, Ser,” You cautiously say, you can feel Cersei’s tension. Doe eyes flutter back to Jaime, “But there are more gracious ladies who are more suited for your hand.”

Jaime tsks at your rejection. “ Nonsense. These birds are not to my taste.” He out-stretches his hand, not taking no for an answer.

Hesitantly, you take his hand, his fingers curl around, no space for escape. Jaime guides you by the feet, feeling the heat of anxiety flood your flesh, as if you felt the thousands of gazes in your direction.

But—- the daggers lodging themselves in your back were from a pair of greens.

A clunky sway between four feet, it’s quite difficult to catch up to Jaime’s step. Unaware at first to steady yourself; Jaime takes this to his advantage, slithering his palm to the nape of your tailbone, luring you into him.

Muttering low, “Follow my lead.” Jaime whispers. Slowing his footfalls, you follow his pace. Clenching your jaw, rather upsetting to be in this position, in the hands of a noble —— in such a vulnerable display.

“I am afraid I won’t be much of a dancer,” Your eyes glued to your feet, a little flumpily. “I haven’t had lessons.” Not daring to glance upward at his intense eyes.

“And weren’t taught lessons on manners.” Jaime jests, earning your head to snap up swiftly, now eye to eye, with a frightened stare of a doe. “Have I offended you, Ser?” Your eyes wearily gaze down.

Jaime chuckles, “There it is again,” his finger curls under your chin, making you look at him in the eye. “Most of the dance, you have not addressed me with so much as a glance.”

You hum, eyes downcasted to the flooring. “My apologies, I am accustomed to not stare too long at the noble.” Swapping harshly, your throat clenching a little.

“Mousey little creature, you are.”

You breathe a titter, bowing your head still, “The bored lion plays with the mouse.” Shyly staring at your feet, careful not to step on his toes.

“Bored isn’t the word.” Jaime whispers, tilts his head closer, attempting to catch your eyes. He leans in your space, you can feel his warmth beat against your face. His nose is just inches from yours.

“Merely curious.” Jaime teases. “My sister has had many maidens, but never any has been beautiful.” He has always snuck glances.

Your eyes slowly gaze up, fully taking in his golden hue.

A natural skin of rich brown —- not many folk in the West possess such color, he can tell you are not of Andal birth. Your flesh shines as sun brown, and curly tresses brushed back to a gold thin lined headdress.

You hum low, not intrigued in his antics, your mind is too preoccupied by another twin —- one who is more meaner.

“You hide yourself in plain cloth, dare to deprive a man?” He chuckles, but his eyes are heavy with need. A simple dress of royal blue—- not the colors of the house you serve, it doesn’t shape your bodice, nor do you seek for it to.

“There is nothing beneath to be desired.” You snip softly. A ripple of fear shivers your flesh, sneaking glances over Jaime’s shoulders. Barely a glimpse at the royal table, a flash of angry green eyes burns you.

“I beg to differ.” His voice pulls you back, eye to eye now. Jaime swirls your bodice around, his open palm tight on your tailbone. Sending a shiver upon the curve of your spine, never been touched by a man.

“My sister has kept you all to herself, I’m envious.” Jaime holds you to his chest, heavy breathing collides. “You tend to her hand and foot—- is there any way you can tend to my needs?” A smirk curls on Jaime’s mouth, ready to sink his teeth.

“When I am cold in my grave.”

“A knight and a handmaiden,” Jaime’s shrugs his head, “A sight all too common.” Gesturing to this as it could be a casual affair. He enjoys your bite, so used to the familiarity of women throwing themselves at him, such easy prey to play with, but he rejects them all.

This is new, a fun game.

You admittedly enjoy his touch, Jaime is breath-taking. Golden honey hair, a strong beautiful sculpted nose, and beautiful green hues.

“I must behold my reputation.” You said in a hush, “I am a lady in your sister’s circle, it would be improper to entertain her brother—- a Lord Commander no less.” You hum low, a small twitch of a smile.

Before Jaime could speak, you catch a glimpse of an ornery glare from a distance, burning with fury. The boldness fades on your lips, but confidence still lingers.

“Doesn’t your oath forbid you of any intimacy?” You jest with him, but your mind is still wondering for Cersei, as well as making sure your feet are coordinated.

You’re nearly breathless, and frightened.

Jaime feigns shock. “My oath won’t be burdened nor broken, if it is kept a secret.” He twirls you again among the sea of dancing lords and ladies. “Secrets can be delicious.” He whispers a wisp into the shell of your ear.

“Even poison can be enticing.” You tilted your chin at him, Jaime smiles, his hands circle your waist even closer to himself. His thumb stroking against your waist.

The environment blurs for a moment, it feels nice. To be treated with kindness, and gracious banter. To not be touched so harshly. But simultaneously, it’s all too much. As if a foreigner in unknown land, touch such as this is—- new.

“How could anyone deny themselves pleasure? Even if it’s —- dangerous?”

You gasp, mouth agape, for once, you didn’t have a snip to his flirtations. Jaime hums a chuckle, “Why, has the mouse lost her tongue?”

“I—”

“The Queen is ready to retire for the evening.” Bernadette’s voice floats behind you, and you thank the Gods above for her —- for just a moment. To be freed from this burning grasp.

“A thousand apologies, Ser. I must tend to—”

“My sister… yes. ” There is a mirth to his tone, mischievous. His eyes stare as if he knows something, toying with it his tongue.

“Yes…” You nod with a timid smile. You bow your head to him, grabbing the skirt of your dress, “I am grateful for the honor of a dance, Commander.” Jaime’s mouth is agape, and genuinely it spreads to a wanton smile.

“ Jaime.”

You gasp a breath, eyes taken back. Jaime grabs your hand into his, his thumb caressing your knuckles.

“Please call me Jaime.” His eyes are pleading, almost glassy. You blink, a simper of appreciation. A royal has never been so amiable with you. Always ‘my lord’ this, and ‘my lady’ that.

“Thank you, Jaime.” You say, a human sensation of appreciation is twinkling like feathers in your belly. It feels nice.

A cough emits behind you. You close your eyes —- it’s time. Lashes blink back, “I must go.” Feet backpedals, hands slowly slip from the warmth of his fingers.

“Yes, you must go.” Jaime says coyly.

Oval nails slip back to your stitching, you twirl around to walk behind Bernadette. Duckling footfalls in line, as Bernadette walks with a hast stride, slinking through the dancing bodies.

“Our majesty is very impatient.” Bernadette’s voice is snarky, as if she chastises a child.

When has she ever not been?

All you can do is strum in agreement.

As you both reach the king’s high table, you catch Cersei’s eyes. Envy as green as her hues, mouth wrinkled. Immediately she stands from her chair, bidding her son a good evening —- all he does is give her a wave and a cantankerous smile, too busy boasting with low lords.

You immediately follow behind Cersei’s trail, biting your tongue, the edge of your jaw clenching in unbridled anger.

Bernadette is not far behind, trying to level at Cersei’s shoulders, but Cersei snappily dismisses her with a flick of her wrist.

Bernadette is sent away to her own rooms, much to her dismay.

-

The lioness is prowling.

Foaming at the maw.

Cersei walked with a firm gait. Her hands clasped over each other, her lips twitching; her brocade fabric sways against the flooring. Her brother —- her lover, and her maiden in such a display.

The walk back to her chambers is eerily quiet. Anxiously your fingers fiddle with your rings, as your belly is churning as slippery eels.

Hastily, you grasp the large oak brown door handles, opening it wide for her—- hopefully pleasantries can ease the tension.

Without a look at you, Cersei immediately walks into her chambers. Harsh fingers tugs at her dress collar, Cersei’s back to you. Routine is often instructed to undress her, but she isn’t thrilled to be touched yet.

“Prepare my bath.” She demands, without even looking at you. “Yes, your Majesty.” You speak in a strain. Rolling your sleeves up to the joints of your elbows.

In the washroom, you fill the tub with warm water that has been on flame for awhile. Carefully, you begin to pour in scented oils, put her bar of soaps on the dish tray, and a rag over your forearm.

Cersei strides to the room, only in a crimson robe, with golden threads. Her face is cold, frozen in disgust.

Ungraciously Cersei drops her robe, it glides down her arms. She steps out of the bundle of fabric, and into the steamy bath. The routine commences—- you have it ingrained on what she likes.

As you kneel, Cersei untangles your headdress uncouthly, letting it fling to the floor, your hair flows down your shoulders. You resume your duty, as if nothing happened.

You unclasp her hair from the gold clips, softly caressing her skull. Untangling her swirls, and unclipping her jewelry. Tenderly, you knead the nape of her neck, to the slope of her throat, to her collarbones.

Cersei moans, closes her eyes in content, but she won’t be manipulated by your touch.

Her eyes flicker open.

“Bring me wine.” Curt and sharp. A dismissive wave of her hand. You stand up from your knees, grabbing the wine jug, pouring the dry sweet Arbor wine into her cuppee.

“Did you enjoy yourself?” Cersei asks, if possible, the heat of her jealousy can boil the bath. Hesitant, you cautiously say, “Yes, the Lord Commander is a gracious dancer.” You offer her the goblet.

“Formalities,” Cersei chuckles, her head bobs tipsily, “ Ser… Lord… ” Her laugh dies, with a frown, “—with how you were fondling him, might as well refer to him by his name.” Her voice is sharp. She snatches the cuppee from your hand.

“I wouldn’t dare to speak to him so formally.” You say, sinking into yourself more and more. You resume cleaning her, trying to get through the night.

“Is it men you seek for?” Cersei asks, twisting the cuppee between her fingertips. You shake your head, “No, your grace.”

“No?” Cersei’s voice rises in pitch, almost mockingly.

“I do not seek companionship.” You peek through your lashes, trying to keep your composure. As a fawn caught by the hands of a hunter.

A thread snaps in Cersei’s mind at those words.

“If I bore a cock, perhaps you would be enticed.” Cersei hissed, her milky fingers clenching her gold cuppee. Her voice slithers into an incoherent mumble, ‘If I was born a son, we would be wedded.’

Her drunken vulnerability turns sour once more.

An empty malicious thought plagues Cersei.

“The Mountain has a taste for sweet gentle creatures—-” Cersei whispers, fiddling with your sleeve. “He would eat you alive.” An airy laugh escapes her, head reclines. She’s rambling poison, trying to hurt you, as if you have pained her in return.

“Perhaps then your whorish behavior would then be satisfied.” Cersei growls into her drink.

You remain mute, not daring to speak in your defense. It’s better fitted to let her ramble in her delusions. Cersei’s eyes spark again, feline eyes stare at you.

“Remember what he did to our late Princess Elia Martell? That was just sport for him.” Her face morphed to a devilish grin, hazy eyes sharply baring into your wet doe ones. The threat is clear, but you don’t catch the bait.

“All of the realm recalls the tragedy.”

Cersei’s face falls a bit, her smile morphs to a frown, her eyes narrow spitefully. She hoists her slender leg up, splashing her bath water everywhere, even drizzling your fabric, and face; earning a flinch. Your eyes scrunches shut, from the swash.

“Scrub.”

Gently you resume washing Cersei. The wash cloth soaps her skin, avoiding her lower regions, not daring to touch her —- it will only spark her. You save that task for last.

Cersei gulped down her wine, the warm twang floods her blood, and her mean strike.

Cersei calms for a moment, her eyes staring yards away. Finally, her body is cleaned, and you cautiously dove your hand into the soapy water, scrubbing her mound. You can feel her pubic hair through the rag. Out of instinct, Cersei bucks her hips against your palm.

Cersei moans happily.

“My brother desires you.” Cersei slurs, just a little. Staring into her wine, her fingernail scraping against the gold engraving. She speaks in a manner as if she talks to herself. You ignore her, swallowing harshly. Cersei is bristling, you prepare yourself —- for the outburst.

Her wet hand reaches for your hair, waves of midnight brown. Her fingers fiddle with the tresses, coiling into a makeshift fist.

“Pretty little thing…” Cersei deadpans, her pink mouth purses. She tugs downward, causing you to wince. And without any hesitation, her back hand swacks your cheek, sending you to crash into the flooring.

That was Cersei at her gentlest.

Cersei stands from her tub, her tuft of hair in view, nose down at your pitiful state. Crumpled onto the floor, cheek swelling, wet moon eyes —- fragile and broken, just how Cersei likes it.

“My husband wasn’t so kind.” Cersei spits, “He didn’t grant me such mercy.” Cersei’s bare foot grazes against your belly, slightly pushing. Towering over you as if you were a mere worm.

The late king was a brute, harshly thrusting his drunken rage onto Cersei. His swollen belly crushed her, and to add salt to the wound, after violating her body, he would whisper Lyanna in her ear.

“Undress.” Cersei seethes.

Shakily, you untie your dress, one shoulder at a time. “If you dare lay with Jaime—- or with any man, I will cut that tongue out of your little head.” Cersei clicks her tongue, “But oh, that tongue of yours is too delicious. It would be a waste.”

You slip out of your dress, with only a simple white cotton undergarment. Cersei snags your cloth, tearing it to thin ripped shreds, ‘as so a man would’ , Cersei thinks.

Cersei kicks the cotton against the floor by her foot, as you stand shivering under her watchful gaze.

“Kneel.”

As you kneel onto the chilled flooring, Cersei waltz to the bedding, leaning onto her spine, her legs spreading as if she’s presenting a feast.

Crawling on all fours as a dog, head bowing, nose flaring to maintain a steady pace of breath. Closer and closer now, you can feel the heat from her thighs, a natural essence emits from her mound, damp and fresh with herbal water.

Cersei’s fingers sought through your hair, fondling your scalp; guiding you further into her.

Your nose goes against her pelvic bone, her blonde tuft of hair envelopes your entire mouth, tickling your skin. Cersei’s fingers interwoven with your curls, tugging against your scalp sharply now, tight at the roots.

You catch yourself voluntarily suckingly her clit into the cave of your mouth. Sloppily nibbling and licking her folds.

Suckling her mound, mouth latched onto her as if savoring a succulent fruit. Your nose pinned against her hair, all that can be heard is the echo of your tongue lapping. Cersei’s grip is woven tight, it feels like pricking needles against your skull.

Cersei hisses through her teeth, legs spreading wider, hips thrusting against your mouth. Completely at her mercy, her palms holding your head, struggling to breathe, as her cunt is spilt and soppy against your mouth.

Hair not as dark as Robert’s but thick as his once was in his youth, it stirs something in Cersei. As a pot boiling at the rim, she snaps.

“If I was born a son,” Cersei shouts, nearly at her peak, thrashing you off of her. Wiping your mouth by the back of your hand, it glistens with Cersei’s slick.

“Perhaps then, I would have my way with you, not in such a secret!” How dare Jaime try to sway you in his bed, although Cersei warms it herself.

“Fuck you on the hill of Casterly Rock!”

Cersei isn’t always this cruel. Sometimes, she can be kind, and gracious —- as much as she can. Find the humor and joys in her privileged life. When she isn’t drunk, when she can hold a conversation—- she is tolerable.

That Cersei is ‘sweet’ , and in those sparse moments, you can forget that you are merely a servant, and she is the Queen.

“On the bed.” Barking orders as if she is a commander on the battlefield. As you crawl onto the mattress on all fours, Cersei serves herself a handful of your ass, fingers digging.

A pregnant pause.

“Do you desire my brother?” Do you desire a man?

Your face wrinkles in a silent sob, shaking your head, “No, your grace.” Bowing your head down in-between your arms.

“Do you not find him attractive?” Cersei goads, her finger tracing between your cheeks. “No—” a whack against your backside, causing you to wince in pain.

“As children, many couldn’t tell Jaime and I apart.” Cersei says, as she relishes in the blooming heat of your ass. “We mirror each other in so many ways.”

Even both acquire the same appetites.

“You insult him, you insult me.”

“What do you most yearn for in this life?” Cersei asks, tracing your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I have no ambitions.” You tiredly say. Sucking in your lips into your mouth, tasting your tears. Blindly blinking with damp lashes. Cersei ignores it, humming low in her throat.

“Every little girl has dreams,” Cersei goades, hovering over your spine, her mouth edging near the shell of your ear. In a warm whisper, “to seek for a prince to whisk them away. Surely I did. ” Her pink tongue slithers, and kitten licks your ear, the warmth jolting a shiver to your mound.

Cersei’s mouth trails down from your cheek, to the slope of your neck, leaving behind open kisses. Scraping the skin of your shoulder with her teeth, nipping here and there —- as if an animalistic urge to tear you apart has overtaken her.

“To be Lady of Casterly Rock, is that what you want?” Cersei says, sitting up again, smacking your back, she hums at your whence.

“I do not yearn for a title,” You wail, speaking through choked tears. “I serve only you.” Wrinkling the satin sheets, bunched between your fingers. Strands of hair cling to your tear stained cheeks.

Cersei plunges her fingers into your cunt, making you cry out. “Does this cunt serve me as well?” Tight walls sucking her fingers in, velvety cave explored.

Intrusive thoughts plague her mind. Images of Jaime crawling and ravishing your body; kissing, biting, and licking. It drives her mad—- with lust. She yearns for it to be three of you.

He is hers, and you are hers.

But what if you two convalude with each other? To leave her behind? To have a life together? An intimacy she has no space to shoulder herself in.

“You plot against me—” Cersei yells, her chin wobbles. Any inkling of logical reason is dwindling now. “Where do you go at night?” She interrogates, nose flaring.

“You slip through the walls, parade yourself for the guards?” She spoke through the cage of her teeth.

“I do not conspire against you, Cersei.” You shrivel, trying to inch further into the bed. “I do not want a life as such with Jaime, I desire to stay here …” you swallow a sob, “in the Red Keep with you.”

That is not enough.

You are Robert, and she wants to hurt you—- sex is electric, or it can be painful. She will fuck you as Robert —- this is what men do. Powerful men take what they want, this is what her father would do —- take, take, take, take ! Power, fear! Take all that she desires, take what she loves—

Love?

Affection isn’t a foreign concept to Cersei, but it isn’t something she gives freely. Only threads of herself can feel her love.

Cersei exhales deeply, trying to organize her thoughts.

Her eyes open blankly, one closes lazily after the other.

“I can see it now,” Her voice is hushed. “A Lannister wedding. Lavish as it can be. Gold it shall be.” Cersei’s head glances down, with an unhinged smile.

“I take Jaime as my husband, and you as my paramour.” Her head is swimming, the wine has sunk her even deeper. “Or perhaps, you as my bride. Oh —- how my father would throw a fit.” Cersei slurs and chuckles as a child.

“If only I was a man,” Cersei leans her body down, engulfing your body into hers. “We would live here, as a man would not be questioned on how many mistresses he possesses.” Her slender fingers creepily slip near your ass.

Guiding the slope of your under thigh between her legs, resting her cunt on your kneecap. The soft tuft of blond hair tickles your bare skin, grinding herself.

Soft wet slick sounds fill your ears, as her fingers grip and tug on the meat of your ass. Her hips are thrashing a bit more harsher now.

Her milky hands slither up the hill of your navel, cupping the weight of your under breast; twirling your brown nipple between her fingertips, twisting.

You hiss at the sting, as she relishes in your distress. Cersei bows her head into your chest, swallowing your breast into her mouth. Her tongue lapping at your nipple, her ivories nibbling and tugging harshly against the skin.

Violently suckling your tit, as you twitch and gasp; worried she might bite it off by the teeth. Despite the astringent offense upon your body, the wave of pleasure cascades you.

Skin breaks into bruises, as you twitch. Sensations of pain and pleasure blur, confusion and ecstasy. Without thought, your fingers caress Cersei’s hair.

Cersei’s mouth releases your breast with a wet pop. A tint of burgundy against the brown of your skin, a reddish ring encircling your nipple. Her puss leaves your knee.

The tip of Cersei’s tongue glides down the path of your belly, down to your navel, to finally your pubic bone. Her warm breaths tickle you.

Raspy moans escape from Cersei, as she slowly licks your mound. Plump, and soft. Flickering with her pink tongue, teasing you.

Her green eyes watch you, as her tongue slips through your folds, tasting you. Delving deep, to your puckering hole. Fucking you with her tongue, no matter how much you fight yourself, the sensation of her mouth on you always sends sparks.

Wetness echoes, as her cheeks puff up against your mound. You move your hips down, fucking yourself on Cersei’s mouth. Slamming your hand against your bedding, gripping the sheets between your roving fingers, as undignified grunts leave your lips.

Cersei admires your heaving bare breasts.

The lioness is selfish—- her mouth leaves you. You whine, stiffly leaning back. Her mouth is damp with your essence. With a harsh slap on your cunt, and another. Cersei finds her enjoyment in your misery, as you mutter for more.

“Pathetic little mercies.” She taunts you.

Silently, Cersei kneels once more, twirling her legs. Lifting your knee upward, over her shoulder, along with your other leg underneath her.

Both of your puss connect, dripping with want. Panting, and sweating, only grunts are in conversation. Your hair is messy, damp baby hairs cling to your forehead.

Cersei’s milky fingers hold the flesh of your thigh, as she rides your cunt with hers. Spilt wet clits, dancing together. Electric sensation that pulls the silky moans from you, as Cersei rides you fast.

Your fingers daringly hold her jiggling ass, fondling her asshole. Toying with it. Cersei squeals at the intrusive touch. A primal surge takes hold of you, placing your fingers into the cave of your mouth, soaking in your saliva.

Your hand cups Cersei between her ass, fiddling the bridge between her asshole to her gaping pussy hole. Her head falls back, as you plunge your fingers inside of cunt.

Her golden hair is loose and disarrayed. Cascading down her face, a lion reduced to a whimpering kitten. Your leg twitches against her chest, Cersei bites at your calf dully.

Your toes curl and flex, as the pit of your belly is unfurling. A choppy high-pitched moan spews from you, your head digging back into the pillows.

Cersei shrills a yes , as her climax reaches itself to the heavens. Bruising your thigh under her fingers. Cumming together, Cersei grinds herself onto you, connecting together, with no space of separation.

Clits throbbing against each other, stinging pleasure. Riding your highs, gently thrashing her clit against yours, earning airy moans. The tuft of her pubic hair against yours fuels the sensation.

Cersei moans delightfully, satisfied with herself. Her body towers over yours, crawling into your heaving arms; not caring of the dewy sheen of sweat that covers your body.

Legs interlocking together, as she pulls you into her arms fully. Turning herself onto her side, her knuckles stroking your hip.

These are the sparse moments you enjoy with Cersei. When she is human, when she relishes in touch, rather than harshness.

“Jaime should not be burdened with duties of the King’s Guard.” Cersei whispers. “He needs a bride. Father is aging, and one day, Castlery Rock will be in need of a lord.” She is mumbling now, mostly to herself.

“That disease of my little brother will defile us with his whores.” Hate spills from her naturally, as it always does.

Her voice trails into silence, her fingers snagging onto your flesh, pulling you closer to her.

Sleep takes Cersei, sinking into the mattress. Paralyzed in her hold until slumber overtook you as well.

The morning sun shone through the windows, baring its light onto your eyes. Rubbing your eyes by the heels of your palms, sinking deeper into the blanket furs.

The hinges of the chamber doors creak, jolting you further into reality, eyes heavily leaning to shut closed. Clicks of heels follow, and a hum.

“It seems the morrow has escaped us.” Her voice is light, cheery even. Not an inch of maligne in her infliction. It’s eerie how the mask can slip on and off—- a performance.

Cersei leans, invading your space, seating upon the mattress. Her eyes lower, and darken. How easily eerie her charm and spite can transmute to one entity.

“If I were to find you in the arms of another,” Cersei says, her voice on edge, taking one step closer, her lips stretch into a gritted wolfish grin. “I will gladly brand your cunt with the sigil of my house.” Her green eyes unflinching, her lips smirking devilishly.

Silence prevails, your hair cascaded against your face. Barely hiding your shame, you subtly nod; submitting to her demanding presence.

Cersei smirks, “Good.” The lioness prowls around her chambers, licking your blood off her paws. A victorious slaughter, a fragile doe locked in her cave, with broken limbs—- and a broken spirit.

-

Peace and quiet.

You inhale a deep breath, as it floods your cavity. Solitude has finally granted itself upon you, away from the yaws of the lioness.

Flexed fingers stroke against the wall, basking in the brisk air. The balcony’s view is marvelous. Unclipping your cleavage, so the breeze can grace your breasts, and sweep against your scalp.

Cersei had taken her leave for a meeting with the king’s council. And surely, no mere maid is allowed in such a space.

Away from her suffocating touch, you can relax in your own skin. A thought comes to you, there are a handful of empty rooms to explore. Your feet carry you down the corridors.

Without thought, searching for an empty chamber, you find one. With the tug of the knobs, you walk freely inside—- only to be greeted with whisking reddish hair.

A gasp catches itself in your mouth, holding your stomach, kneeling legs curtsying in respect.

“Lady Sansa.” You bow your head dutifully. “A thousand apologies, I didn’t intend to intrude.” As your feet backpedal to the entrance, a soft whisper calls.

“Please stay.”

And just like that, her sweet child voice sweeps you.

“Oh, little wolf.” You pinch the fabric of your dress, lifting as you walk with haste. The instinct to hold Sansa over took you. Sitting on her mattress, engulfing her in your arms, quickly her red hair melts against the sapphire threading of your dress.

Sansa’s head is tucked in the crook of your shoulder. Quietly sobbing, her delicate fingers grip against the base of your back, as would a cub cling to its mother’s teat.

Caressing her hair, you shush her softly, rocking her back and forth. “I’m scared.” Sansa’s words are muffled, vibrating against you. “I want to go home.” She wails, mewling.

“My sweet girl, how I long for you to be safe.” You whisper, “I’m so sorry for what has happened.” You kiss her head, muttering apologies into her hair, hoping your kindness weaves itself into her hair, and stays for a rest.

The morrow stretches into noon, as you watch over Sansa. Comforting her in placid silence, brushing her hair. Humming a melody, as your fingers thread intricate braids within her auburn flaming hair.

This feels like home again.

Outside of these walls, both are prisoners within a castle. But here, in this moment, is a woman, and a child. Reliving memories past, as a mother, and as a daughter—- through each other.

To heal these wounds, as mother and daughter.

Just for a moment.

#chaosfae writes #yandere cersei lannister x reader #wlw #yandere game of thrones #a longish drabble #I got ahead of myself though #can this even be considered a drabble anymore???😭 #this is not drabble anymore💀 #I just kept adding and adding omg #enjoy!<3

[monsterinmyboxers]

pairing. simon ‘ghost’ riley x top male reader.

author’s note. so many people asked for part two of this post so here. also, little theme change because i like this format more. :) fem-aligned n minors dni. part 1.

content. ooc ghost? blowjob, riding; cowgirl position, face sitting, cum eating, praise, sir kink.

ever since you and ghosts last interaction, he couldn't get it out of his head. how you easily lifted more than he even weighed, sweat sliding down your toned body, muscles flexing with every thrust of your hips.

he became obsessed with the image. he needed you, bad.

so, once he got alcohol in his system, he’d gain the courage to ask you about it.

and you more than happily accepted the offer.

as a result, you and ghost would get somewhere private, which was his room, ghost then lifting his balaclava to rest on his nose — lips free to kiss you however they wanted. you both made the quick decision to smash your mouths together, your hands traveling and groping simons ass.

your bulges would incidentally rub together, soon turning into almost desperate grinding. simons patience was running thin, and it rather noticeable by his twitching hips. you took a hint, and began undressing yourself, then him.

once you both were down to your boxers, simon didn’t hesitate to get onto his knees. you didn’t even have to ask. it seemed that he was going to give you head whether you wanted it or not. for a moment, you’d think that he was stalling, that lingering fear of crushing you still there in the back of his mind, but you pushed the thought and slipped your boxers down your firm thighs.

he looks at you through the holes in his balaclava, seemingly giving you puppy eyes, silently asking for your permission. you’d wonder if they were intentional or not. either way, they worked instantly, you nodding down at him to get to work.

you bite your bottom lip as his spreads his lips to fit your cockhead, sinking lower and lower onto your length before your tip his the back of his throat. he gagged, but kept going, almost whining around your dick.

“fuck, that’s it,” your hand would rest in his hair, fingers tugging at the short strands. this was your usual process when he sucked you off, simon taking you deep, gagging as he did, whilst you praised him. it’s how he liked it. he enjoys having a routine.

though, it did seem like he was going slower than normal. maybe he was nervous about riding you, which was understandable. again, simon liked a routine, and riding you would change that. as a response to that, you pull him off your dick, sooner than he liked, simon following after your length like a lost puppy.

yet, you stopped him, pulling his balaclava down first, now grabbing his hands and guiding him to the bed. you sat down first, pulling at his hands as a signal for him to take a seat — on you. he hesitated, but you urged him to, locking your fingers together and nodding up at him. eventually, he moved, planting his thick and firm thighs beside yours. he didn’t plant his full weight onto you, relying on his legs to hold him up, but you didn’t mind — for now.

god, they were gorgeous. one hand let go of his, but the other stayed. you knew he needed it, your warmth calmed him down. though, your other palm was free to explore, running along his skin and gently gripping it. “you’re so beautiful, simon.” the sound of his own name rolling off your tongue had him shivering.

his forehead would rest on yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off his cheeks through his mask. that free hand would move to his lower back, slipping under the waistband of his boxers — but he squeezed your hand, getting your attention immediately. “i, already did it.”

your eyes would widen before you smiled, “thinking ahead, huh?” that gained a chuckle from you both. but, his breathy laugh was interrupted by a quiet gasp, two fingers slipping inside him.

“just makin’ sure.” you mumble, adding a third. your fingers were dry, but he didn’t mind — he honestly preferred a bit of pain. he was familiar with that feeling.

he was quite loose. you supposed that simon was aware of how big you were. meanwhile, simon huffs and groans, hips twitching and grinding down into your fingers. he’s gotten more confident, it seemed.

you pull out your digits, which were once dry, out of him, instead using them to pull his boxers down to his mid-thigh, leaving him exposed. once again, he tightens his grip on your hand as the cold air hit his most sensitive parts. before he could say anything, you move him closer, your cock now snug between his ass cheeks.

you didn’t put it in, not yet, now laying yourself down completely. your other hand came back to hold his, giving him an encouraging look and nod. simon realized that he was the one who had to put it inside, nodding back at you before lifting his hips, slightly gaped hole finding your tip and taking it inside.

he seemed to hold his breathe, only letting it out once you were halfway inside him. “you’re doing so good, simon. take it all for me.” he nods, chest moving up and down, “yes, sir.” it was barely above a whisper, yet you could hear it loud and clear. he’s so fucking cute.

as more time passed, you bottomed out, comfortable in his tight heat. simons thighs were visibly shaking, showing how he was still holding himself up, but they quickly gave out as you thrusted up into him. he let out a broken shout, soon letting go of one of your hands to place his balaclava back on his nose. it was becoming hard to breathe with it on.

“you did it, baby, you’re so good for me. such a good boy.” he felt so vulnerable, his lower lip trembling as you spoke. “yes, yes, so good for sir, so good,” his words were choppy.

“i’m so proud of you.” and whilst you said such, he’d grind down on you, one hand resting on your chest as the other held yours, bouncing beginning. drool dripped down his chin, mouth wide open as broken gasps and groans left him.

skin slapping together would soon be heard, simon letting go of his fear and giving you his all. he was too lost in pleasure to care anymore, and you loved every single second of it.

praise laced every word that left you, throwing your head back and grinding up into him in the same rhythm he was bouncing at. it was overwhelming, this new position and angle that hit his prostate straight on. he doesn’t think he had ever felt you so deep.

the knot in his stomach was forming quicker than expected. “g’nna, g’nna come, g’nna come, sir, come? can, i come?” he panted out, letting you do more of the work as he slowed down.

“affirmative,” you’d mumble, sounding just as breathless as him. you were aware of how much you were twitching inside him, climax near, another thing you both had in common.

once he had permission, he lets out a silent scream as cum spurts from his slit, you following in suit a few thrusts later.

afterwards, he would collapse on you, knowing you could handle it. though, before either of you could fall asleep, you’d lift his head. “can you sit up, simon?” a second passes, and he lifts himself, his own cum sticking to his stomach. as he did this, clearly focused on keeping himself from falling over, you pull out. he gasps, shuddering as he feels cum leak out of him.

something would stop it, though, your fingers pushing your cum back inside. he didn’t know how to react, neither did he have time to as you spoke again. “sit on my face.”

a minute or two later, his thighs were instead around your head and neck, simon leaning slightly on his arms as you spread him open — allowing your cum to drip out and fall onto your tongue. this, was also very new. but, it seemed simon was in the mood for new things.

maybe, change was good, at least in the bedroom.

#fics by jj #simon ‘ghost’ riley #simon ‘ghost’ riley x male reader #call of duty #dom male reader #top male reader #could this be considered a full fic or should i keep it in the drabble section

[kiwanopie]

The Cat dilemma

“You see this? Ma’ niece sent me this.”

Kiyoomi doesn’t have enough time to dodge the phone shoved in his face before he’s unwittingly victim to some way-too-loud Tiktok video Atsumu’s showing him on his way-too-cracked screen. Some viral meme played under a nightcore rendition of a song too mainstream for him to stomach. But from what he can tell it’s about a cat on a ledge who misses his mark to the next one and smacks its little orange chin on it in the process.

He rolls his eyes before shouldering his friend off. “Jesus, take better care of your stuff.”

Atsumu pouts at him before glancing at his phone a little curiously. “You know I dropped it when ya - Hey, did ya see the video at least?!”

In lieu of responding, Kiyoomi grumbles a little before shutting the locker room door behind him.

Stupid.

It isn’t until the drive home that he even thinks about it again. When his Bluetooth doesn’t connect immediately and the radio starts to play instead. It’s that song again. Not as sped up definitely but he’d know that cookie cutter viral pop song bass and tremble anywhere. It’s stupid how stuff like that gets popular nowadays. Like any sane person can sit up and listen to something like this. But then he remembers that kids exist and they listen to stupid music and intake stupid media and definitely share stupid memes that no sane person would find funny.

Like that stupid cat video.

Kiyoomi turns on his blinker as he merges down the road leading home. Who would even laugh at something like that. Cats do silly shit all the time and you don’t see him blowing a gasket over it. Even if it did kind of hit that ledge at a funky angle. - I mean, it couldn’t have gotten hurt or anything but it… it did make a little glunk! didn’t it…

Kiyoomi purses his lips as pulls into the lot. Okay, so it was a little funny…

You’re the first thing he sees when he steps into his shared apartment.

He bends to let you pull him into a welcome home kiss as he kicks the door closed behind him. Little whispers of apple and honey blending into the strong lemony smell of his shower gel - and it makes him all warm and gooey inside that you’ve made yourself so at home in his absence. He hums as you greet him. Bends for another kiss when you tell him you missed him and pinches you a little on your side when you tease him for being a sap. There’s a knot in his shoulders that he didn’t notice was there that melts away the moment you get your hands on him. And for a moment he forgets about the whole cat dilemma.

Until, “Oh! By the way baby, your sister stopped by to drop off Salmon. Said you’d babysit him while she’s in Ueno with your mother.”

Kiyoomi groans as he shleps himself into the kitchen. He did not give her the O.K. to do that. In fact, he distinctly remembers telling her that No, I’m not going to babysit your stupid cat while you’re out with mom. And Yes, if you drop him off at my apartment anyway, I’m going to tell the people at the front desk you’re a stalker and to call the police next time.

He sighs when he finds the feline in question perched up on his kitchen counter.

“Damn it… Salmon, how many times have I told you not to-“

Oh, he must’ve spooked him.

Because without even a second to prep his little orange legs to jump, he lifts off of the first counter right to the ledge leading to the first floor steps. A clumsy little rocket ship form that kicks his legs lamely behind him, and right as he gets to the edge he’s aiming for - He falls short.

He knicks his little chin with a soft glunk!

It’s not even a second later that you find Kiyoomi doubled over a bathing Salmon, coughing his way through a giggle fit.

#no cats were harmed in the making of this drabble #this might belong to a boyfriend!kiyoomi series I’ve been considering #so #boyfriend!kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu sakusa #hq sakusa #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!! #hq x reader #haikyuu fluff #hq crack

[satoruhour]

hi t!!! i hope you're well. saw that your requests are open and i'm actually nervous bec this is my first time ever sending a request (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

may i request gojo being jealous or pouty over reader simping over a celebrity (nct maybe or mark lee especially) (i read that you used to write for nct hehehe) (i'm on nct rabbit hole for the past few days) or or or bassist!suguru teaching reader how to play the guitar maybe?

(am i doing this right? (⁠*⁠・⁠～⁠・⁠*⁠) )

anyway, have a good rest of your day/night!!!

a/n: omg my love im sorry this took so long! i hope you enjoy, i wrote both but ill post it separately :)

five hours. that’s how long your boyfriend’s been sulking and ignoring you and throwing mini tantrums every now and then. all because you liked to tune into youtube a little too much to look at a bunch of boys (“26, mind you! why do they need so many members anyway?” gojo would say) dance and sing at the same time.

“NCT U this, NCT Dream that, what about NCT Tokyo?” gojo paces the room the very first time you explain the whole concept to him — a group of unlimited members while some are sorted into specific sub-groups that represent specific concepts. gojo gets part of it, but doesn’t understand why they needed to be so attractive.

“they do have an NCT Tokyo, actually! newly formed!” you grin, knowing this information would only set him off, and since then, every comeback, every variety show, every photoshoot behind-the-scenes video that you blast on the living room television is enough to get your boyfriend in the most terrible mood.

but one thing that really sets the sorcerer off is your obsession with the canadian singer slash rapper, mark lee. you admired the work he put in — training since he was young and miles away from his family. he debuted at only sixteen and made a name for himself ever since then, always putting in his 200% for everything that he does. mark’s face shows up way more often than the group videos, gojo notices; a lot of the specific fancams that focus on his performance, or those fan-made compilation videos.

it’s not like you’ve been playing videos non-stop, either. you offered gojo to wave his white flag whenever you went to do chores, made lunch, did some reports, but none came.

so you might as well enjoy a few more videos until you break the ice. you reach hour four when you feel a little bad about the glares he’s giving the tv, seated on the far other end of the sofa while you enjoy the fancam videos of fact check.

curiously, out of the corner of your eye, there’s just a bit of change in your boyfriend’s expression, a scowl still deep on his face but his eyebrows are not as furrowed, eyes not as narrowed and squinted as he liked it to be. having dated since high school, you already know what’s going in that head of his — you know he finds mark at least a little attractive, but his pride wouldn’t let him tell you that.

“see anything you like?” you hear the audible gasp of gojo when you call out to him, letting the video go on not because you watched it a couple times already (while not entirely wrong) but you think gojo still outshines any k-pop idol on the big screen.

“no . .” he mumbles, sinking into himself more and more to prevent you from looking at his expression; but the foot-tapping, the secretive eyes, the head bobs all give him away. you know you’ve got him figured out when you scoot over and he doesn’t move, letting you untangle his fortress of shame shown in his body language.

“you can tell me he’s pretty, you know that right?” you giggle, lifting his arm to slot yourself under it. you fit just right upon his bent knees, looking up at the familiar frown on his face. gently, you peel away the blindfold on his face, greeted with the stark blue eyes that you find yourself falling deeper into each day.

“no comment.”

you laugh at his stubbornness, a hand caressing his cheek as you try to contain your smile. even now, he’s not doing a very good job of catching glances at the television and sulking.

“okay, then, i guess i’ll just continue to watch my videos, then, since tomorrow is an off-day.”

“no! i-i mean . . uh,” gojo is torn between admiring your favourite idol and staying jealous, but he can’t formulate words when you stare at him like that; a crinkle in your eyes and just a sliver of your teeth while your eyes sparkle under the apartment lighting.

“ugghhhh . . i don’t know,” gojo buries his face in his hands, “why do you like him so much anyway? do you like him more than me?”

you hum, striking a faux pose of pondering and your boyfriend only whines again at that, accidentally putting down his knees and your support from behind you is made void immediately. if it wasn’t for your arms that hung around his shoulder, you would’ve landed on his lap pretty harshly.

gojo only huffs after also doing his part: an arm replacing his thighs to keep you from falling. there you hang awkwardly, still faced with gojo’s adorable pout, “mark lee definitely couldn’t have done that. i’ll tell you that much.”

you roll your eyes with a big grin, “oh, you big jealous oaf, c’mere.”

without warning you latch yourself onto him, slightly tackling him into a violent embrace with your lips on his and gojo sighs indefinitely like he’s been waiting all day for it. he just lets you have your way with him, letting you kiss him like you’ve never done before. he hums into your mouth, submitting to you as you climb into his lap.

“so i’m assuming you like me more than him?”

your boyfriend teases as you pull away, hands caressing your sides and sending chills right down to your centre.

“do you really have to ask?” you giggle, fully taking off his blindfold, now, brushing your fingers through his hair. through the corner of your eye, you see him play with the left and right buttons possibly to find a spicy playlist you two could get down to (his words, not yours), but before it can even start:

the playlist’s interrupted by an advert for nature republic with mark’s voice that plays through the speakers, panning out to eight other boys on a beach and smiling as if they’re aware of the torment they harboured.

your sorcerer boyfriend merely throws his hands up in frustration (“oh, come on!”), melting into the couch with a permanent scowl while the living room only fills up with your loud laughter.

#euuughhhh idk how to feel abt this but i should be kinder to myself considering i havent written for a whole month #and is currently burning up #it's only up from here ig #gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader #gojo x you #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk scenarios

[chishiyae]

— HATE CONSISTENCY, BUT LOVE IT WITH YOU ! [𝙛𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜] hobie brown.

𝙧𝙚𝙫𝙞𝙚𝙬 �� makeout sessions are lovely, but you'd prefer them to not have you pleading.

𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙩𝙚𝙣𝙩 ┊0.7k words. implied fem!reader. there’s literally (little to) no plot whatsoever… just kissing and banter. established relationship. suggestive.

a/n. — there i was, on a road trip, listening to music when i thought about writing a quick little fic … so i opened up tumblr and found @/jasminesfury’s dialogue prompt. and oh, was i inspired

hobies thumbs circle the inner of your thighs before retracting and lowering his hands. the shorts you were wearing provided him with easy access, and he'd be damned if he didn't take use of it.

one of your hands was wrapped over his neck, supporting you in your straddling position. the other was found lying in between you and hobie, which was needless given how close you two were, but it's not like you're thinking right now. too engrossed in the sensations. the rhythmic motions of your lips lapping over each other. his hands stroking your thighs. the scrape of his jeans against your flesh (which you hardly felt now). all of it just had you — gone.

he pulls away from your kiss, a tiny rope of saliva tying your lips together. his gaze travels from the saliva to your eyes, taking in how distant you are from the world — from everything other than him. he couldn't stop smirking.

“look at my pretty girl.”

hobie dropped his head, brushing against your neck before giving pecks to the surface. you simply turn your neck to provide him better access. a calloused hand reaches for yours, and you almost miss it because of the warmth in your chest, or was it coming from somewhere else?

you're about to cease his kisses and bend in to catch his lips when you feel a harsher pressure on your neck. one that you can only consider as sucking. you gasp at the feeling; it being a wet yet ticklish heat.

his hand squeezed yours, and you reciprocated.

as he went on, the tingling gradually gave way to burning. and it takes everything you have to not let a noise escape your lips. to not let one out as hobie took his time sucking down on the sensitive skin, using his teeth, and then kissing the area as if to relieve the discomfort.

you let go of his squirming hand with reluctance. his fingertips slid up your arms so delicately that they were almost imperceptible. with each breath you take, he travels further. waist then hips. when he reaches the band of your shorts, he leans back and takes a good look at you. a discolored portion of skin stood out to him, the smirk on his lips becoming inevitable.

was he always this smug?

his tongue took only a second to sweep across his lips, but the way his teeth bit down on it made you want more. want him to take his lips into yours again. want the pool of neediness to subside. most importantly? you want him to stop fucking teasing.

your whiny expression says it all. hobie was skilled at reading people, but he didn't have to try just now, which he found very amusing.

"oh, shut up," you whined, giving him a push.

he only holds up his hands, “i ain’t even say anythin’!”

“you were going to.”

he pulls you in by your belt loops, sending you to fall over his chest. he looks down at you and mumbles, "wasnt."

liar.

you raise yourself higher and get closer to his face, hovering above him. your arms extended over his head and rest on the bedframe for support. it's quiet for a moment, with only the whistling wind to keep conversation going before you speak. “i hate you.”

he twists your belt loops and lightly yanks you back to your original position on his chest. when he stares down at you with that same expression, it's like deja vu, "oh yea’? should i stop?"

“i’ll push you off this bed.”

when you're staring up at someone, it's harder to be threatening. from the raise of hobie’s brow, you make a mental note of that.

"jus’ keep going," you continue, patting his chest as you prepare to sit up, when he gives you a knowing look.

your face falls. you already know what he expects. it was the only type of consistency he genuinely enjoyed, which you used to tease him about. getting a good laugh while he rolled his eyes, but nothing was funny once he brought up how you dreaded it, longed to just get your hands on what you desired. that's why the joke stopped.

“please?” you sigh, your voice quieter and less demanding than before.

a third smirk tugs at his lips today, to which you roll your eyes.

“see? was that so hard?”

© 2023, CHISHIYAE

#「𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐘𝐀𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒」 #about how many words are considered a drabble guys #because idk whether or not to put this in the oneshot section or not #across the spider verse × reader #spider man: across the spider verse #astv x reader #astv #across the spiderverse #hobie brown #hobie brown x reader #hobie x reader #hobie brown × you #hobie astv #astv x you