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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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Okay okay hear me out, Eggnog is being a creep and watching reader pleasure themselves, and surprise surprise, reader moans out Eggnogs actual name, what would Egg do next?

[stalking, suggestive things and such]

This is bad.... Very bad.

Though they've managed to pull their eyes away from the inciting scene and shut the closet door, Eggnog could still hear your lewd sounds and the rustle of your sheets.

This was not was supposed to happen. You were normally asleep at this hour when they used the passageway conveniently hidden in your closet to watch you sleep and steal things. They were so accustomed to finding you asleep that they nearly got caught; a well timed moan sparing them from the heat of being discovered while kindling a different kind of flame with their chest.

The memory of the scene is still fresh in their mind no matter how far they try to push it into the depths, trapped in a never ending cycle that makes them squirm and pull their sweater over their crotch each time it repeats. Your blankets tangled around one leg, fingers worked deep inside yourself as your body twitches and expels hitched breaths. The closet was positioned at the foot of the bed so they could see it all. Your legs spread further right as they eased the door shut.

Eggnog curses themselves as they palm over the swelling in their jeans to relieve the worsening ache. You're still so loud, so inviting. Their thoughts slip to fantasies of their tongue taking place of your fingers. Worshipping your flesh and body far better than they ever could. They'd bury themselves in your heat and take all you have to offer like the greedy soul they were, leaving their love and gifts of pleasure as payment and praying it'll be enough.

Eggnog's hand slips past their waistband before they can come to their senses. Precum dampens their fingers as they tease the tip of their cock. They hate themselves for it, but it hurts so much. Your sounds flood their ears and it leaves them a complete mess on your closet floor. Eggnog even has the nerve to pick up a discarded shirt and use it to both muffle their huffs and get off to your scent. They can't do this while you're here. They can't. They can't.

"Elisha...."

Eggnog whimpers at the call of their name- then stops. That... wasn't from their head. Reality and fantasy were blended together, but that definitely wasn't from them. There was no way they could imagine their name sounding so sweet. Eggnog places their ear to the door.

"Fuck... Elisha.."

There it is again. That voice that makes their sight blurred, calling them to the heaven they were sure they were in to have such a beautiful mess begging for them. Eggnog would've finished right then and there if guilt had ate at their core so. Taking advantage of your vulnerable state, nearly losing themselves and breaking from the closet to give you what you desired.

Eggnog stands with shaking knees and gropes for the ladder to the attic. They need to leave. Right now. Before they did something they were unsure was just. Their hand missing the railing by a mile and they stumble into the wall knocking over your storaged items in the process. Your room lights flicker on.

"Is someone there?"

Shit.

#Milk farm tag #yandere oc #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere insert #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere smut #yandere lemon #yandere hybrid #yandere drabble

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quackquackcey · 3 months

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Tasty

Stiles freaked out afterwards so Derek had to cut him off with another kiss.~ 🐺❣️ (AO3).

For @sterekdrabbles 1/29/24 prompt: ‘sad, milk, kiss’. 100 words. Rated G. Tags: getting together, pining.

Stiles opened the oven just as the front door slid open.

"...You know my loft isn't a hangout place, right?"

A pang of sadness shot through Stiles' chest, but he shrugged it off. His plan to win Derek's heart through his stomach never worked. "Is that how you should treat someone who baked you cookies?" he retorted.

Derek walked over to where he stood dunking his cookie in milk and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You're right," he said, and then he kissed him.

On the lips.

Stiles froze.

"Thanks," murmured Derek with a lick of his lips. "Tasty."

#sterekdrabbles #sterek #100 words #sterek drabble #sterekdrabbles: sad milk kiss #omf writes #sterek is eternal #eternal sterek #derek x stiles #derek/stiles #stiles stilinski #derek hale #cey writes

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wwrenwrites · 1 year

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You know what would have been funny.

Jason Todd being lactose intolerant.

Like no one would actually expect this big-ass more than 6 foot of a man.

One of the best fighters in his family and the vigilante community. A big eater, a decent sweet tooth and is actually pretty good with spice. But has a fucking weakness for anything dairy.

Would say ‘fuck it’ if it comes to good ice-cream or gelato. But any good cheese in pasta?

Pain in the fucking ass.

Still good if it weren’t for the awaiting sleepover in his beloved bathroom. Which is absolutely hilarious cause it is only you who would figure it out when you notice the pattern of him being in the toilet for 20 minutes.

And him refusing to acknowledge it like you’re telling him he can’t indulge eating a greasy-ass 4 cheese pizza anymore? nor his go-to mac and cheese recipe he perfected with a good ole take-away of Wing Stop???

This would go on for months. No. Forever.

Till he dies again.

Completely convincing himself and you that it is just some stupid worm.

And that’s also a very Jason thing.

He would continually be stubborn and ignore the little lactose pills that would solve all his problems.

Cause he has pride.

A reputation, he says.

He’s a fucking ‘big boy’ he says.

Hell, his family doesn’t even know about it.

Not even Alfred.

So every-time there would be a family dinner in the manor. And the one time it’s Italian cuisine theme. Homemade pasta and different variations of salad. A big plate of fried calamari and special whole roasted chicken. Red sauce, white sauce, oil-base sauce. With complete sides and extra condiments, meaning plates of sliced cheese and shredded.

The fucking variety knowing Alfred.

And then there’s you, encouraging Alfred to add as much parmesan as he wants since you said “Jason loves it the most with that kind of generous amount.”

You knew he was glaring at you, even ignoring him when he pinches your ass. He scoffed at his other siblings who whined on him hoarding all the cheese.

Mind you it was good quality cheese. Imported from Europe, Alfred said. And you even told Jason, cheese from Europe won’t make you shit. You smiled with love to the side-eyeing handsome man; eating his share of plate clean.

#to this day he refuses the pills not because of his trauma but because he hates losing #jason todd will not give up on cheese nor will start drinking almond milk cause it taste shit #everyone has a dirty secret #jason todd rant #jason todd #jason todd x reader #redhood #redhood outlaws #jason todd x y/n #redhood x reader #batfamily #dc x reader #dc universe #jason todd fluff #jason todd drabble

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pure-vanilla-lilies · 1 month

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“WELL WELL WELL.. Isn’t it the fool king himself~” Shadow Milk Cookie said as lifted his chin

Elder Faerie Cookie looked away not facing the jester, with Shadow Milk Cookie making the faerie king look at him again.

“Aww what’s wrong fool king, embarrassed hm. I can see you that your flustered around me. Are you so cute when your flustered~” Shadow Milk Cookie said with a giggle.

The faerie king softly grumbled, hell he didn’t want to even show it. But he did have feelings for the jester for sure.

“Now.. Tell me fool king. Don’t lie, do you really care about me?”

Elder Faerie Cookie can sense the soft tone of his voice. But honestly, seeing the jester drop his sinister voice and showed his true self, soft spoken and quiet, he truly thinks that his true self is still trapped inside… He can see the jester dropping his staff and felt like tearing up, but to the faerie king he can’t see him cry. He maybe the cookie of deceit, but he does have feelings like other cookies…

“Why you still here fool king….” Shadow Milk Cookie said as he wiped his tears.

No response from Elder Faerie Cookie, but he grabbed Shadow Milk Cookies hand which made the jester confused. His heart racing as his Heterochromia eyes look at the faerie king, with the faerie king pulling the jester to his chest a faint blush was spread across his cheeks.

“You maybe a cookie of deceit.. But you still have feelings…” Elder Faerie Cookie softly said to him.

Shadow Milk Cookie didn’t know to respond, but covered his face in Elder Faerie Cookie chest. The floral and honey scent was actually make the jester calm and close his eyes. Some reason, his scent is always makes cookies sleep or calm, with the two sitting against the tree, the jester was calming sleeping which made the faerie king wrap his wings around him..

“I be here for you.. No matter what..”

#lillies drabbles #cookie run kingdom #shadowfaerie #eldershadow #elder faerie cookie #shadow milk cookie #I never wrote ElderShadow / ShadowFaerie before please forgive me if it’s bad

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miss-spookhead · 29 days

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thinking about a Blast From the Past steddie au tonight. like, think about it for a second--steve as the sweet, well-meaning himbo raised in a fallout shelter and eddie as the cynic who shows him the world as it is:

The year was 1962, and an atomic bomb had just dropped on top of the Harrington household.

Okay, not really. It was actually a fighter jet that suffered a mechanical failure just above the little plot of land the Harringtons called their home, but Walter Harrington took it differently. Far differently.

See, the thing was that the man was living in a state of paranoid delusion over the Cold War--terrified of the possibility of an outright nuclear holocaust over the Cuban Missile Crisis and the Soviet Union. He had been carefully building a fallout shelter under his home for his wife and possible children to live in with the works--canned food, running water, and even a working television.

And one day they went in and simply never left. The explosion right when they closed the door was tangible proof that the nuclear war was happening right above them.

A few years later, around 1968, a baby boy was born in a fallout shelter with no one but his mom and dad to keep him company.

They raised Steve the best they could, even if Walter Harrington was a mad genius and Madeline Harrington was a borderline alcoholic. Even if the boy was living in a perfect little time capsule of the fifties and early sixties. Walter made sure to educate him right and teach him how to be a sociable gentleman--even if he had no idea what swear words or the concept of sex were. That was for another time. Although, twenty-four years came and went for Steve Harrington, his father still owes him 'another time'.

Steve Harrington grows twenty-four years in perfect seclusion, but that changes at the flick of a switch.

The year is 1992: supplies are dwindling Walter is growing sick, and Steve is tasked to bravely set foot in the nuclear fallout to retrieve more material. (The only reason why Walter assumes they can even get more stuff is because he observed the outside world when the shelter unlocked and mistook it as a post-apocalyptic mutant society.)

The moment Steve made it outside his little bubble, he was utterly fascinated by the world--how different the people were outside of his television and his little books, how bright the sky was outside, how the irritable man on the bus wouldn't accept the money he tried to give him, how the bus moved and didn't fling him right off his seat.

(He even saw an adult bookstore. Dad told him that those things were filled with poisonous gas. How were they even to operate if they were filled with poisonous gas? That's dangerous and totally inconsiderate of the general public's safety.)

Anyway, he tries to follow the grocery list that Mom and Dad gave him the best he can, stocking up on poultry and tissue paper and the works. But by the end of the day, he doesn't know where he came from. Not a single sign or building or person can give him a single clue where to go.

After a few hours of wandering, suitcase in hand, he comes across a store with WE BUY BASEBALL CARDS written on the window.

Golly, Steve loves baseball cards--could look at Dad's collection for hours, and with the collection he has, he could make a pretty penny selling them for supplies. Despite the little hobby store being beside an adult bookstore with poisonous gas, he scampers right in.

"I see you're looking to buy baseball cards," he says breezily to the gruff, scary-looking man behind the counter.

"That I am," he replies.

Steve pulls a few from his jacket's inner pocket. "Well, these are a bit old, you see, but I was hoping you still might be interested."

The gruff man yanks them from his hands, a spark in his eye. He looks delighted to see them, and it fills Steve with an excitement he hadn't felt at all today. Nobody has been this happy over something he's done today. "Woah," he gasps, then covers it with a cough. "Mickey Mantle rookie season...how much do you want?"

"I was hoping to sell all of my cards, actually!"

The man sputters incredulously. "All of 'em? Are you fucking with me?"

"I'm not sure what that means, but all I have are hundred-dollar bills and I need something smaller. Like, uh...ones, tens, fives..."

"Tell you what, I'll give you five hundred in small bills for all you got."

Steve smiles brightly. "Oh, that would be wonderful, sir--"

"Five hundred for a case-full of rookie season Mickey Mantles, Rick, are you fucking joking?" A deep voice cuts through Steve's thanks from the other side of the small store. He turns around to find a man leaning against a magazine rack, arms folded sternly.

The man is unlike Steve's ever seen before. Long, long limbs and big brown eyes that look traced with black and smudged around the edges. Pretty lips, too almost girl-ish, in the way they were big and plush like the women he'd see on the television. The strangest thing about him, though, was the curly hair that tumbled past his shoulders.

He looked mad, though. Madder than mad.

"Tell the poor guy you're fucking with him," long-hair-pretty-lips says to the man behind the counter, who bristles.

"Were you raised in a fucking barn, Munson? Who told you to interrupt on business?" Rick counters. Steve was really not appreciating the amount of f-words dropped in the conversation, it was uncouth.

"Sure I was!" Munson saunters towards the counter and Steve's eyes follow him like a moth to a light. "But my morals go past your business practices at this point. You remember the ninth commandment, yeah?"

"You shut your Goddamn mouth--"

"Excuse me sir, but I really don't appreciate how you're using the Lord's name in vain like that," Steve says firmly.

"See?" Munson smiles. It's like sunlight. "He gets it."

He plucks the baseball card from Rick's hand and holds it over his head when he tries to reach for it again. "See this little thing?" He says to Steve sweetly. "This guy costs six grand alone."

"Get out of town! Really?"

"Oh yeah, big guy. Selling the thing would give you a small fortune, and Rick over here is trying to con you out of it."

Steve frowns. "Is that true?" He asks Rick.

"Nothing but," Munson says in place of him. He slips the card back into Steve's hands and gives them a pat.

"The Hell is even keeping you here, Munson?" Rick sneers. "Did the gig you won't shut up about fall through like they usually do? Better to bum it out here than in your shithole apartment? Stop loitering in my damn store and make like a fucking tree. You're banned."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," Munson says rolling his eyes. He looks at Steve, then the door, gesturing at it with a flick of his head. "I'll see you out, Beaver."

He walks them both out the door, stopping to gesture at Rick strangely--hands balled into fists with only his middle fingers up--before stepping outside onto the sidewalk.

"Well merci, Monsieur," Steve says appreciatively, because Dad taught him French was always to be used on such occasions.

"What, you're French?"

"Oh no, I'm"--he thinks back to what Dad told him if a mutant asks where he's from. Gosh, he thinks he's supposed to be--"out on business."

"And you don't even have a clue about the little business trick that Rick tried to pull?"

"No...no, I--"

"Yeah, doesn't matter." Munson shrugs. He smiles sympathetically at Steve before turning on his heel and walking off. Oh boy, what would he do without him?

He follows him like a lost puppy, that's what.

"...You going the same way?" Munson asks incredulously. Steve shakes his head.

"Well, I'm following you."

Munson stops in his tracks, blinking, and Steve almost runs into him in his state. "Me?"

"Well yes! Where are we going?"

"We?" Munson asserts. "I'm going back to my shithole apartment, and judging by that jacket you're wearing, you should be taking the next left and hop-skipping straight to the barber college."

"Oh, I'm lost, though."

"Aren't we all?"

"Say, did you just get banned from that hobby store because of me?" Steve says to change the subject.

Munson sighs. "Seems like I did, sailor. The place was shitty anyways, with that dickhead running the operation. Wayne could get better cards from a different joint."

...dickhead? Steve's never heard that leave the seams of anyone's lips before. "Dickhead?"

"Yeah, he's a real fucking loser. A walking talking penis capable of human speech."

Steve gets queasy at the image he's concocted in his head. He leans against the nearest brick wall, his suitcase tumbling to the ground as he drops into a contemplative squat.

"Dude, what is wrong with you?"

"Well, the mental image that I..."

Munson's eyebrows scrunch before he reaches out a hand to Steve. He takes it, letting the man haul him upward. "Look, man, where'd you park your car?"

"I came by bus."

"Aren't you full of surprises."

"I am?"

"Okay look." Eddie raises his hands, palms splayed in the air. "It's your first time in Los Angeles, right? Everyone wants a taste of it, I know, and you're out for business and fucking famished. You got the opportunity to see the great big world outside of your little bubble and you got excited--but you took a bus and got mixed up in the middle of San Fernando Valley without a clue in the world. Am I correct?"

Steve listens in wonderment. So far, Munson's been correct in a way. He's convinced he might be psychic. He nods slowly and seriously just to see Munson flash that lighting-strike smile.

"Great, great. Which brings us to here. Correct again?"

"Oh yeah."

"Where are you staying?"

Nowhere, at the moment. Steve opens his mouth to say so, but Munson interrupts quickly. "Holiday Inn?"

"Yes, the Holiday Inn!" Steve says totally truthfully.

"Okay, cool. Cool." Munson claps his hands together with finality and starts walking. "The nearest bus station is a couple of blocks away if you take a right--"

"Don't you have a car?"

Munson stops in his tracks again. He turns to face Steve once again. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

Something warm pools in Steve's gut at the pet name. Something about the way those pretty lips form that word sends blood rushing to his cheeks. "Steve," he says.

"Alright, Steve." Oh boy, his name sounds even better when Munson says it. "Rule number one in Los Angeles? Never let a stranger drive you anywhere."

"If it makes you feel any better," Steve says sweetly, "I don't have a gun."

Munson pales, then starts running.

"Hey!" Steve cries and makes haste to follow him. "I must've said something wrong, please forgive me!"

"Nope, nope--get the fuck away from me, man!"

He grabs Munson's wrist to pull him back, which is a bad move since the man starts writhing around in his grip. "I'm not going to hurt you, sir!"

Steve drops Munson's hand and raises his in surrender. "See?"

"...Just let me get to my car."

"I'll give you a Rogers Hornsby if you take me to my hotel," Steve reasons.

Munson stills. "...That's like four grand, don't bullshit me."

He pulls the card from his jacket and presents it as evidence. "See? I was holding it back." He wants Munson to feel safe. "I got two." He reaches for the other cards in his pockets and pulls them out. "And-and all these other ones, too!"

"Okay, okay. You'll give me four thousand dollars if I drive you to your place?"

"Uh-uh!"

"That's it?"

"Yep."

"And I don't have to give you a quickie in the backseat or anything?"

"Yes sir--wait, what?"

Munson blows past his question like it didn't even leave Steve's mouth. "Can you stop with the sir crap?"

"Well, I'm sorry, sir--"

"My name is Eddie."

Eddie...Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. Wow, what a name. It's almost like something he's heard on the television.

"Why, it's nice to meet you, Eddie."

"Tolerable to meet you too, Steve."

Steve smiles shyly, then asks, "So are you a girl?"

"Excuse me?"

"Well it's just your hair...it's so long." Steve points at his as an example. "I've never seen anything like it before."

"Dude, it's 1992, every other guy looks like this--have you been living under a rock or something?"

Something like that. Steve shrugs.

"Well guys having long hair doesn't mean that they're girls, Steve, that's a given. It's not 1962 anymore." Eddie backtracks. "Well, I mean, dudes can have long hair and be chicks and chicks can be dudes too but that's not--"

"Oh, wow, my dad told me about one of those the last time he went here!"

"Oh that's fantastic, sweetheart," Eddie says, sugary-sweet. "But how about I drive you home?"

"That'd be a pleasure, Eddie."

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levmada · 1 year

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quick thought before i forget!

kitty!levi comforting reader after they have a nightmare by purring and giving cuddles

do with that whatever you want - love you <3

- 🥛

genius idea as usual😏

//gn!reader

“Nightmare?” Levi whispers.

You nod frantically. Imprinted on the front of your mind is the black feelings and images of bodies and blood. You blink them away, but the shadows in the dark won't go. The sobs leap to your throat.

“A bad nightmare,” he remarks dryly, pulling you closer. He's warm like an oven, and his arms around you, shields of their own from fear.

He was already turned towards you when you jerked awake. You'd like that to be a coincidence, but the logical part of you knows it isn't. He always has a sense for these things.

He rubs his cheek along the side of your head as he hushes you. Black fluff touches your ankle. “Breathe… Hey, it’s alright. I’m here.”

With this, you latch onto him, cringing at the sound of your muffled crying. You want to apologize for getting his shirt wet, but you're crying too hard.

He continues to hush you in soft tones as he brings your head to his left chest, where his heart beats. Every limb is intertwined. You center on the sound, eyes closing, until warm purring rumbles to life.

“Shit… sorry”—he moves to touch his neck—“it does it on its own.”

You shake your head viciously.

With a soft sigh, he tucks your head under his chin, stroking your hair. With his ceaseless purring at full force now, you find your breathing begin to slow, and the images of the nightmare fade and blur. Honestly, you could…

Your breathing slows and evens. Blinking in surprise, he finds it's true—you fell back sleep. Good. He's glad it turns out he can be good for this type of thing, comforting.

He blinks away sleep of his own, just in case you stir again, all the way until he dozes off himself.

#milk what if i told you this is loosely based off ur fics #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #captain levi x you #levi fluff #levi ackerman drabble #levi drabble #aot drabble #levi x y/n #kitty levi #moots: milk

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goddess47 · 3 months

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Drinking Games

For @sterekdrabbles January 29, 2024 prompts: sad, milk, kiss

-----

"Why is Eli so sad?" Derek asked, leaning in for his usual welcome-home-kiss.

"He forgot he drank the last of the chocolate milk this morning, and now he has none for dinner," Stiles replied, returning the kiss.

Derek glanced at the clock. "How long until dinner?"

Stiles grinned. He knew Derek well. "Half an hour?"

"Can you stretch it to forty-five minutes?" Derek asked.

"Sure!"

"Hey, Eli!" Derek called. "Come on, we'll go on a milk run."

"Really?" Eli's head whipped up.

"Sure," Derek said. "No dawdling!"

"None!" Eli scampered for shoes.

"Be right back," Derek promised.

"I'll be waiting!"

#sterekdrabbles #sterek #drabble #prompt: sad milk kiss

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shadowlychee · 3 months

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my personal heater ★ ( a shadowlychee ficlet )

Shadow Milk always had cold hands— or rather, his entire body! That much was obvious.

So when he fell in love with the warmest dragon on Earthbread, he obtained his own personal heater; one could say.

Everywhere on their body, from head to toe was covered in a comforting warmth. Everywhere except for their claws, but.. he was okay with that.

Especially now, as the beams of the sunlight shined into their shared bedroom; he was quite warm with them around.

Their arms were tangled around one-another’s body, the two huddling for warmth under their covers as the violet dragon’s claws dug deep into the back of their lover.

They always did this when they cuddled, but they always made sure it was gentle.. even when asleep, somehow. As if it was a subconscious thing.

His eyes fluttered open, staring in awe at the sight for a moment before a soft smile began to creep up his lips.

He enjoyed the small moments like this, waking up in the morning as the sun slowly rose up and above the hills of Earthbread.

Luckily, he had nothing planned today. So he opted for staying in bed with them, his head settling in the crook of their neck as he slowly drifted off back to sleep.

Life was better this way.

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camels-pen · 6 months

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I'm still thinking about vampire Usopp w/sanuso btw, just like

Sanji insisting Usopp come to him whenever he's hungry, for multiple reasons, but primarily bc he's the cook, it's his job to keep his cremates fed above everything else. And Usopp going along with it, asking for blood around the same times he used to ask for food. Thinking Sanji would tell him if he ever took too much.

Sanji, however, is a fool. A very kind, but large fool. He doesn't tell Usopp when he's taking too much or too frequently. In fact their whole arrangement barely lasts a few weeks before Sanji collapses in the middle of food prep.

Like, just the idea of the guy who gives and gives and, yeah it feels nice to give, but can't fathom the idea that there are others on the crew able to do the same. That he doesn't have to give until there's nothing left.

Idk just. Physical manifestation of his problems with accepting unconditional love without having to give anything to earn it. As in, the more he gives without bounds, the more he's literally killing himself.

And then. And then.

Usopp coming into the galley, ready to sheepishly ask for a snack, just like before this whole thing, and finding Sanji on the floor.

And he yells for Chopper before looking Sanji over. Coming to the realization that this was him- this was his fault. He took too much. Asked for too much. Asked too much of Sanji.

And he's just kicking himself the whole time, telling himself it was stupid to ever think Sanji- Sanji of all people- would ever deny him a chance to fill his belly.

He comes to the conclusion he can't ask Sanji for blood anymore. He can't ask anyone for blood anymore. He couldn't risk this happening again. To any of them.

After Sanji got a transfusion and isn't at risk of falling over anymore, he and Usopp begin an agonizing back and forth routine.

Sure, Sanji can't give blood for a while- doctor's orders- but there are some rather big fish in the aquarium, and Usopp has always loved the taste of fish. He drains the blood out of a few, stores the excess in the fridge, and offers a glass to Usopp to make up for the lunch portion he never got.

Usopp says something or other about grabbing a bite from a sea king earlier and waves him off. Sanji frowns but doesn't say anything.

And this same bit continues and continues and continues, until Sanji puts his foot down. Literally.

Kicks Usopp's ass to the galley. Has an infuriating conversation with him. Continues to try and get him to drink. Ends up coming to a conclusion that Usopp only liked drinking blood from the source. A passing thought making him consider that there was only one source- one person he'd drink from.

Usopp- tired and fuzzy and hungry, so so hungry- is trying his damnedest to keep Sanji satisfied with lies he doesn't have the energy to make believable. He's trying and trying but Sanji is bulldozing through each one, not taking no for an answer and-

Is it me? Sanji asks, his voice far, far too hopeful. Do you only want to drink from me?

And if Usopp wasn't tired- wasn't literally starving and finding it hard to keep his thoughts from slipping away- he would examine that voice. That tone. Run through his own daydreams with different words, different contexts, being implied with those words.

But he is tired. And he is starving. And he needs to get a grip before he wavers even more in his resolve.

And so, it's surprising yet all too expected when Usopp declares Sanji's blood as the nastiest thing he's ever tasted. Says he never wants to get within smelling distance anymore, it's that bad. Too late, he realizes his smelling distance, now, covers the entirety of the ship and then some.

Sanji stays silent. Usopp contemplates taking it back. He doesn't.

Casually, Sanji reaches over to his knife block. Despite his current status as a member of the undead, Usopp fears for his life. He wonders if Sanji was just as skilled with a knife as Zoro was with his swords and desperately hopes that's not the case. Aloud, he tries to calm Sanji down while subtly trying to put distance between them.

Without any warning, practically without sound, Sanji tilts his head and cuts a thin line near the juncture from his neck to his shoulder. And all of a sudden, Usopp's filled with another, far more terrifying, kind of fear.

It's just like Boin, Usopp, he thinks to himself, eyes glued to the spot where dark red beads of blood well up on pale skin. Just like Boin.

#one piece #vampire usopp #sanuso #sanji #usopp #nemotime #ye this is related to the other drabble thing i wrote #i dont have explanations for chopper uhhh #maybe they both got embarrassed about being found by the crew like that and just kept it a secret that they kept doing it #like sanji would assure chopper that he had pigs blood or smth for usopp but in reality. foolishness #ohhh chopper is So gonna let them have it though #Sanji: i always have juice and bread after-#Chopper: YOU CANT FIX EVERYTHING WITH JUICE AND BREAD!#luffy and brook fixing themselves up with milk is different bc they're. hmm. theyre something else #i took out the last bit bc i couldnt find a way to end it nice but Sanji wipes the blood on his finger and sticks it in Usopps mouth #and Usopp is trying so damn hard not to give in but his knees are very much shaking at this point

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

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Thembo cow hybrid reader being oblivious to rootbeer's drunken flirting 😼

"Anybody ever tell you you're too damn good for this town?"

"Aw, thanks Riley, but if I think living out here is great. You're here, plus it's hard to find a town mostly run by people like us."

Rootbeer is always so kind. He had been since you moved into town, but recently his generosity has only increased. You can't walk out your door without him being there to surpise you or knocking right on your bedroom window when you haven't been outside yet. Your living room is packed with all the flowers he's given you - truly an amazing friend. You try your best to match his energy by being there whenever he needs you, like when the bartender asks you to pick up him after he drunkenly calls your name throughout the bar.

"But I mean it. You're easy to be around - the only person worth a crap to begin with. You got a good head on your shoulders. Cute as a button too. Anyone would be lucky to have you"

"I can saw the same about you. A sweet talker like yourself is bound to have a people after them."

RootBeer grins, the blood rush to his head causing him to dip in closer. "Think so?"

"I know so.... Can't wait to see who wins you over."

Rootbeer falls back against your couch with a groan. He loves that gullible side of you, but sometimes he really hated how you never picked up on his advances. He had half a mind to kiss you right then and there, but he was trying to be a gentleman and butter you up first. He swore you were gonna be the reason he did something he might regret, or drunk himself into a coma.

"Are you alright, Riley? Need some more water?"

"Only if your mouth is the cup."

"What?"

"What."

#Milk farm tag #yandere oc #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere drabble #yandere cowboy #yandere hybrid

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milkywaydrabbles · 9 months

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Milky Way Drabbles

Navigation

「⸙͎」 Rules 「⸙͎」

「⸙͎」 Master list 「⸙͎」

「⸙͎」 Commissions 「⸙͎」

「⸙͎」 Fandoms (Under construction) 「⸙͎」

「⸙͎」 Kinktober list here! 「⸙͎」

「⸙͎」Flufftober list here! 「⸙͎」

:✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.:₊ °✦ ‧ ‧ ₊ ˚✧:･ﾟ✧:･.☽˚｡･ﾟ✧:･.

「⸙͎」 About me 「⸙͎」

Milk | 28 | Multi-fandom writer | AO3 can be found here!

#Milky way drabbles #Milk writes

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sinnamonpork · 2 years

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It would be really sad if the dabihawks lovechild got the misfortune of an incompatible quirk to their body. Feathers and fire is already a horrible mix and with the way touya's body ended up, it wouldn't be surprising if the child's feathers burned every time they tried using their quirk.

Just Touya seeing the struggle their child is going through because of their quirk and remembering his own childhood. He'd definitely blame himself bc he thinks he passed down his own body's problems to their child and he really can't do anything about it except be there for them. The realization that their child wouldn't be able to fly and stay grounded, probably forever, was enough for him to get on his knees to whisper and repeat apologies again and again.

(thinking of making a oneshot where touya comforts his child and says it doesn't matter, giving them all the words of acceptance and support that touya wishes he had when he was trying to burn himself up just for an ounce of validation.

"your quirk doesn't define you.")

#burning wings looks cool in fanarts but not in reality #im sorry hawks i forgot to add u here #let's pretend hawks went out to buy milk #dabihawks #dabi x hawks #dabihawks lovechild #todoroki touya #takami keigo #pro hero hawks #drabbles #mha #bnha

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pure-vanilla-lilies · 1 month

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“What’s wrong Pure Vanilla Cookie~ Something bothering you~” Shadow Milk Cookie giggles in his head

Pure Vanilla wings not only flicked at hearing Shadow Milks voice, but the bandages he was wrapping around his arms to cover his burnt dough was making it worst… Soft humming could be heard in his mind as Pure Vanilla covered his ears tightly.

“Oh poor Pure Vanilla Cookie, it seems like you haven’t learned your lesson such a shame.. What would your wife Milk Tea Cookie would say~” Shadow Milk Cookie said with a giggle again.

“Keep my wife’s name out your mouth!”

Shadow Milk Cookie laughed as he hummed softly, which was making Pure Vanilla Cookie tear..

“Oh poor Pure Vanilla Cookie looks like your at your breaking point.. Sooooo cute~” Shadow Milk Cookie said cutely.

“GET OUT OF MY HEAD!” Pure Vanilla Cookie screams loudly.

Without a warning, Pure Vanilla Cookie woke up, his wife Milk Tea Cookie putting a cool rag on his forehead, she was worried for him.

“Another nightmare my king?”

No response as he hugged his wife tightly, yeah it was another nightmare…

“Just keep fighting him, you can win it I know you can.” Milk Tea Cookie said softly.

#lillies drabbles #pure vanilla cookie #shadow milk cookie #milk tea cookie #mind break tw #break downs

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craycraybluejay · 9 months

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When You Go To The Child Torturer's House

Do not be surprised when there is child torture. Do not show alarm.

Instead, do assure The Child Torturer that you are its friend. Feed it some milk teeth from your work or family, but never from yourself. If you feed it your own milk teeth there will be consequences.

Do not attempt to remove the children or call for help. In fact, best not to interact with them, I promise you it knows. It knows what you are doing. It watches and listens. In fact, it does so through the collected children.

How? You may ask. To clarify, you may ask me, do not ask The Child Torturer where its abilities come from, how they work, anything about it. The Child Torturer takes off parts of its parasitic body (if you could call it a body) and gives them to the children, usually as food when the child grows so hungry they will eat anything. Oftentimes, The Child Torturer's body appears as a grotesque amalgamation of the deepest fears of its children. It decorates itself at will, not unlike making yourself into a Christmas tree. But when it gives a piece of itself for the child to consume, it appears as a black gravelly sludge, with a sheen of blue-green. When the victim consumes this, it changes inside them.

The strange substance The Child Torturer is made from turns so fluid that it can penetrate flesh, bone, and sinew. It worms its way inside in short bursts over a period anywhere from one to three weeks. It squirms under the skin, dances within organs, rushes in one's veins and arteries. It turns the children pale and sickly, malnourished. At first. After the initial infection is complete, The Child Torturer uses its many abilities to draw on its life source-- youthful imagination and wonder, juvenile hope and compassion. It poisons imagination with ugliness, wonder with fear, hope with abysmally hopeless conditions, and compassion by stoking hatred. That's the thing-- too. The transition into adulthood is by no means a linear one in humans, but for The Child Torturer it is even less so. To one of these creatures, it determines its victims not by how many times they have gone around the sun but by how pure their will is. Not pure in any regular sense; untouched by violence, or sex, or ugliness. But pure in the sense that one gets much easier creative breakthroughs as a child. Pure in the sense that one sees cruelty and suppression and laughs in its face. Pure in the sense of an unbroken hope regardless of what has gone on in the human's lifespan. Life force itself. Loud emotions, good recovery, bravery, wanderlust.

You are not suited to meet The Child Torturer if you retain too much of this life force. He may just add you to his collection. Anyway. What goes on after the initial infection, after the diminishing of life force?

The child begins to grow or shrink strangely, coming to look monstrous themselves. Their senses optimize, oft becoming so powerful that it is painful to exist. The little piece of The Child Torturer they have eaten grows larger, like a particularly parasitic embryo. Most notably, they begin to lose certain faculties past a certain point. First to go is the ability to speak, the vocal cords being clogged and slowly replaced with impenetrable, elastic blackness. They squirm around in ones throat quite uncomfortably if they try to speak, eventually the victim gives up on this impossible endeavor. Next goes the ability to make choices or understand complex concepts. After that, once the life source on that particular child has run dry, they lose access to all off their senses, touch included. They are now by all means a vessel, unable to do much of anything but feel complete dread and horror. Their mind is too compromised to even grasp what is going on or form a coherent thought. It is just pain, fear, and hopelessness. Not even rage is a mercy granted to these poor souls. Not even the purity of rage. The Child Torturer now crawls inside every crevice, and this is the only sensation the fully transformed victim is able to feel. Parasitism is a scary thing, no?

But what can you, dear reader, do about this wretched being? Can it be killed? Can it be imprisoned? Thus far, no one has succeeded in either. And believe you me, many have tried. Even I have run into it way back when. Tried to do the whole hero thing. Almost became lunch. I still have a little piece of it inside me, too far outside its radius of influence to grow or change. I feel it moving sometimes, keeping me awake at night many years later. Especially when I'm having a nice moment. It loves those. I reckon the only way it can die is to starve it for long enough. But how to keep people from playing hero? How to keep curious humans from following the strange and alluring energy they noticed on a wet Tuesday morning? It's hard to resist, the pull to adventure. No less difficult with little life force than with much. Although with the state of the world nowadays I watch with bated breath, both dread for humanity and anxious to see the end of this creature, as less and less humans are drawn to help or to explore. As both quietly and loudly the state of affairs drives us to impure apathy, hopelessness, turns us into wretched beasts, monuments to nothing. Fear presses in from all sides, monsters both in the office buildings and deep in the woods, siphoning from you, sipping on you like a good old fashioned juice box. Your will to live will kill you, and so will your lack of it. How to kill both us AND them, when we know "us" is quite the same and on a much larger scale. How to eliminate poison from our diet when it's in all the food and water. How to erase the parasite when it is sitting behind your pupil, watching as you write this foreboding tale.

Maybe, possibly, if you could map out The Child Torturer's common hangouts. If you could put up signs of toxic waste or radiation in those areas. Maybe then it could starve without us needing to be drained. Maybe if we work together. Maybe. But for now, as with any disaster, no coordinated effort is being made to prevent or reverse it. And so, as with any disaster, more will fall victim. But hey, I'm sure high-tech battle-weapons and suppressing the newest minority of the year and making sure people can't access information will come to be useful sometime, right? Right?? I'm sure it's more important than monsters, storms, and suicides. I'm sure it's more important.

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