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astralnymphh · 5 months

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why is it always about ellie pleasuring us and never about us pleasuring her??? like I wanna edge then and then overstimulate her till she cries 👉👈

right?? like.. ugh especially with a vibrator !! mdni. mama petname used. sub!ellie. bratty behaviour. blah kind of a lazier drabble focused more on dialogue im just practicing for pccb (pretty cunt central, baby: a fic) 1.5k+ wc.

⤹ edging ellie with a vibrator ⋆ . ☣

Hung like a vignette upon her lain body, Ellie was vulnerable. Accelerated in the pump of her blood. Cold of her sweat, beading clammy condensation on her cheeks, a single bang strews itself across that muggy biome of skin— somehow looking darker as it soaks up her wet frustration. The bedspread, however, drank up a lethal amount of her crying sweat. A dull radiograph beneath her, turning lilac hue of her blanket—mauve, marking her body with a vignette of her own.

Ellie on her back, thighs broadened on each side of you, and you fully kneeling with cold toes wedged into the chub of your ass, is your position. Skimpy end of her pubic bush tickled your belly button whenever she scoots closer, eagerly trying to rub her greedy pussy on you— fuck, you cherish those little antsy movements.

"Fuckin'— unhhh— nuhnonono babe, baby.. fuck, c'mon!" her words drove on a groan, snapping into an upset whine when a certain toy was drifted from her beaming cherry clit.

Fun. Fun is what you gain from this, and it fed you with hormones to perceive it in that light. Your thumb planes plumb on a flat button, the surrounding indentation kissing your print as you let it sit softly, no vibrations to numb it.

Ellie chases your detach with her hips bucking and legs arisen, sticking out her cunt for that damn toys' bulbous head, "Mama— please, fuck.." the whine leavens, straining in her clench of stress.

She is so fucking handsome, cute— alurring with that glassy daisy nose. Buttony and speckled like a daisys lemony pistil, but glossy as a pearl washed upon a rocky cove, orb of luster on the tip to prove it. Fairest terra of her skin, has gone scarlet against the pale sand of her cupids bow, which she rolls inward to her bottom lip in even more neglect of her edging. Too fucking cute.

"Yeah, you fucking like that?" you flipped the toy on and jabbed it into her clit, provoking her hips to jerk in regret and her legs to clamp in on you— to which you dug your free hand into the plush hind of her thigh, stretching the web of your thumb and pointer, and craning that shit 'till her knee nearly kissed the mattress. Sprawled like a bitch in heat.

"Fuck fuck fuck! N— ohhh my guuh, haah—" Els bolted her eyelids to a creasing shut, scrunching up to her nose as you sunk that vibrator head in vertical drags, watching her pretty pussy lips swallow the ridge of it, "uhhhnn t'can't, cuuhh— uh!" blabbered she.

Your blabbering mess. Jolting up her pussy for you, the bulge of its aroused state really catching your eyes.

"Can't what, baby?" you coo belittleingly.

A nubby mass pushes your nude hips into her butt, thereafter you realize her heel was nudging you close, because she longs for your closeness, to be near when she cums.

Strias of breath warble from her throat, panting in dainty breaks, "Huhh— ha, uhh babe, m'wanna cum for you, cum with my pussy all over y—you, y—yeah.." her tune turns squeaky, enticing you with that weak coo, only to grow pouty and sassy, "stop be— uhhn, being a dick.."

A brow arches in amusement, "What was that?" you curl in feigned curiosity, lifting the whirring bulb with a webbing of her slick gluing from the verge of her hole to the plastic tip.

"Fuck—" a dramatic pulling of pants rise again, chest aswell, vocal chords calming, "you're just getting me back for teasing you, hmm?"

"Yes.." you spur from lying, sounding proud.

Rose buds of her lips curl in as she chugs air, gazing so doey—eyed at you through lashes sodden in faint tears. Those fucking brows curved in at the base of her nose, making her look so— dizzied, like she was about to pass.

She hikes up onto her elbows, pressing her hot buttcheeks harsh into your thighs until they splat. Ellie just knew, by the twist of your words and the crescent carving below your nose, you enjoy this. "God, you.." a sigh leaves her, cheeks inflating, "you fucking like this."

You frill, "Mhm."

"Fuck you."

Faking offense, you dusk your lids to a slit, glaring, "Scuse me?" stern with a smile, you winch a hand behind you— wrapping around another toys girth, "wanna talk t'me like that?" you press the vibrator back to her clit, swerving your other hand 'round and dipping the spade of a purple dildo into her hole— fast, stretching her lips open and bottoming 'till the small silicone balls squished her perineum.

"Shit!" yelped she, sudden lunge of her large mitt now grappling the hand on her thigh and burrowing bowed nail marks deep in your wrist, second hand clawing the cotton sleeve of her pillow.

You smack the balls hard on her wet skin, draining every bit of precum from her filthy gaping pussy— which landslides in between her ass. Drawing strings and strings from her cervix, the squelch arouses your ears, flushing them in heat.

"Yeah?" you silken a muse at her choked and elongated moans, dazzling the front of your knuckles in slick with your speed, "slutty fucking pussy, lookit' her— clenching that cock in."

It hadn't even washed over you that she was already cumming, bubbly sounds of her piped squirt swelling into your ears— thenn the little spurts come and the pooling of white cream licking up the pumping veins spatters your belly, riling you the fuck up. You didn't let up, nuh—uh, not when her raised brows, banshee—wailing mouth and ghastly eyes made you feel hot inside your own cunt, striving for overstimulation.

"Ohhh my god— huhhnn.." Ellie groaned, tatted arm flexing it's veins and yielding pigment from her fingertips.

You slipped the dick out like butter— her labia kissing closed, and slap it down on her swollen folds, noise coiling, getting her to jerk and push out more slicky finish, "There you go— good girl, cummin' for mama?" you steady the vibrator, letting it torture her convulsing clit for an.. untold range of time, whatever floats your boat.

"Uh'huh.."

Nimble as ever, you glissade the dick up her torso, crushing her slobber webbed lips with the pussy—reeked tip, "Mhm, that's right, open up babe.." asking of her with a satiny softness taking over that cold voice.

Spit drools down her chin as she caves her gob over, pupils colliding as she crosses her eyes in, "Ghh— uhhhahnn.."

"Don't talk.." you enlist a ruder tug on her clit with the vibe, forcing all that sweet syrupy cum down that throat of hers in droplets off the dick, "suck that fucking cock.."

Obeying, she rumples the plump coral skin around the thickness and drags them over the texture, pulling them out slightly. Cream white began to build at her pie—hole, cherry pie lips, a la her scarfing gags spitting everything that wanted to travel down. Little 'guh, guh, guhhs' bounced off her larynx, a fucking angel soprano to your ears.

However, she just couldn't stop thrashing. Past her point of please, were her non—verbal pleads of relief. Relief from that whirring device, rolling her butt deeper into the mattress now opposing the chase.

Ellie's quivering right arm fleets up and grabs your wrist, shanking the hell—sworn cock out of her mouth with spit connecting, messy girl, "Nonono, fhck— too much t'much 'tmuhh— ahh~" she gabbles, locking her butt up and humping up into the air void of intention.

Too much.

Too much..

Not enough.

"You know this baby," a bastion of even more pride instills your craving cunt, winding your knees smushed into the bed and crawling over her, body casting dark in your vignette, chastising "Ellie doesn't get a break 'till I cum too, 'kay?" you whisk the toy away, just for a second.

The bitter burn of tears piggyback over her bottom lids, squeezed out like orange juice and glossing like her wet and mucky slit did, both squinting at your actions. A snotty sniffle flows into her woozed words, "C—can I at least tou—uhh, touch you.. babe?" red puffy eyes gazing into yours with such want, skipping momentarily to search for any expressive sign of a reply.

"Sure baby, sit up— but don't close those fucking legs." you accept her ask, watching that ruffly—haired girl scoot up with such excitement.

Ellie sits vanward still, slouching with widely spread legs and a timid hand reaching for your cunt, the contrary paw dropping and fondling the cushion of your butt cause she just couldn't help the urge, tucking her head in the warm hearth of your neck— latching a bite so she may distract herself from what you're about to do.

You take her hand and invite it in, feeling her fingertips divide and tease your folds and her teeth nipping tiny spots of flesh into her dried chuckling mouth like a goat grazing, giving you the green light to creep the toy on her bloated bud, once more.

"I fucking love playing with you."

#ellie williams #⤹𓍢ִ໋aestras asks #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #ellie tlou #ellie x reader #lesbian #sapphic #ellie williams x fem!reader #ellie williams fic #sub!ellie #ellie williams blurb #ellie williams drabble

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chosokamolvr · 7 months

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pathetic little curse user

nanami kento x male reader

- nsfw under the cut

[name] was running for his life. he was running down the empty streets around the shibuya train station to save his life. but alas, his efforts were in vain.

a tall, blonde, yellow and black speckled tie wearing sorcerer was chasing after [name]. mahito had mentioned a sorcerer of a similar, or even the same description, but [name] never thought he'd see the day where he'd finally get caught by a sorcerer.

[name]'s legs kept dragging him along, going through different corners and short cuts along the way. then, [name] was trapped. he ran into a desolate alleyway with no way out. oh how he was fucked now. he didn't want to die this way, not to a stupid sorcerer he didn't even get to see the face of.

the sorcerer finally reached the alleyway, panting slightly as he looked straight into [name]'s eyes with a glare. [name] was panicking, he was shaking and his heart was thumping out of his chest. he hadn't lived long enough to die now! he didn't want to die by the hands of a handsome, tall, muscular sorcerer now did he?

"you." the sorcerer stated, walking closer to [name] before he held the poor man up by his hair. [name] was already squirming whilst the sorcerer hadn't even finished what he was going to say. "what did you do with gojo satoru?" the sorcerer continues, still holding [name] up by the hair.

[name] whimpered and he tossed his body around, wanting to be let down. yet, this sorcerer was too strong, far stronger than [name] or any other puny sorcerer the curse user had faced. "i.. i don't know! i wasn't in on it! i was just hired to distract other sorcerers! let me go, please!" [name] whined, not meeting the sorcerer's eyes.

the blonde man scoffed and he threw [name] against one of the walls of the alleyway. "maybe this will make you talk, or it won't." he said before unbuckling his belt and pulling his trousers down. the sorcerer creeped closer, as he pulled his boxers down revealing his hardening dick.

[name] looked at the sorcerer with a gulp. he couldn't believe this was happening to him right now. [name] was getting hard, and to a sorcerer at that. how pathetic. "what.. what are you going to do to me?" the curse user asked, but he already knew what this sorcerer was going to do.

"you'll just have to wait and see, won't you?" he chuckled before he pushed [name] fully against the wall. [name]'s face was now pressed up against the brick, feeling weird and rough on his cheeks. "the name's nanami, by the way. nanami kento. i guess you'll want to know the name of who's gonna fuck you, don't you?" nanami says before pulling [name]'s trousers and boxers down, pressing his hard-on against [name]'s ass.

all [name] can do is gulp and stand back to recieve what nanami is about to give him. he closes his eyes and he takes a deep breath in. [name] knows nanami is probably not going to prep him or anything. why would you prep the enemy's ass for your dick anyway?

then, nanami pushes into [name]. first it's the tip, then he immediately slams in his whole length causing [name] to hiss out in pain. it burnt, but [name] knew nanami wasn't going to care.

nanami then kept a grip on [name]'s hair as he started thrusting slowly, trying to aggravate the curse user he was inside of. "shit. you're so tight, i feel like i can barely move my dick." the blonde chuckles, but in reality he loved how tight [name] was. "you're as tight as a virgin. have you never had sex? or have you just never been fucked by a man before?" [name] whines at nanami's questions, his body pressed against the wall as nanami thrusted. he didn't know how to respond, the dick inside of him was making his brain switch off.

as nanami thrusted, [name]'s dick was pressing and rubbing against the harsh texture of the wall infront of him. as painful as it was, [name] was in a state of pleasure. all of the pain he felt dissipated and turned into pleasure.

"ah- faster.. please nanami.." [name] blabbered and slobbered out onto the wall. nanami huffed and he took [name]'s arms, tying them up behind his back before thrusting faster, as per the curse user's request. "it's sir to you." nanami scoffs.

[name] didn't realise what had just happened. he was too late in the pleasure. once nanami slammed into him faster and deeper, [name] yelped out, coming back to his senses again. he tried to move his arms only for them to be bounded by nanami's yellow and black speckled tie.. the tie mahito had described before.

"mm.. sir.. please.." [name] whined, although he didn't know what he was whining for himself. nanami just chuckled and he continued thrusting at a decently fast pace that was also rough on [name]'s behind.

"you're pathetic, you know that?" nanami grunts inbetween thrusts, hand still firmly gripped in [name]'s hair. "you're letting a sorcerer, your enemy, fuck you and you're enjoying this too." the blonde chuckles, but he truly had a soft spot for pathetic idiots like [name]. "can you imagine what the people who hired you would say if they saw you like this? what's his name.. mahito, right? how do you think he'd react." nanami huffs.

[name] just mewls. he can't say anything as he's lost in the pleasure and ecstasy, he's practically drowning in lust. his back arches and his eyes roll back as he feels nanami go deeper. it just feels so good, too good to be the enemy's dick.

nanami smirks as he sees [name]'s reaction. the fact that [name] is too pathetic to respond and too built up due to a few minutes of sex is so thrilling to nanami. "answer my question from before." nanami states, gripping [name]'s hair harder to get him to speak. "what have you and your little friends done with gojo satoru?" nanami repeats his question from earlier. [name] responds by drooling on the wall even more. he's probably forgotten why gojo is, and truth be told he didn't have to do with gojo's sealing in the first place. nanami's dick was so good it made [name] forget about everything.

then, [name]'s vision went went and he cummed all over the wall. white painted and stained the brick, leaving nanami disgusted. "who said you could cum, you pathetic curse user? i certainly didn't." nanami grunted, clearly annoyed by [name]'s actions. "guess we'll keep going until i think we're finished. you wouldn't mind that, right?"

[name] shook his head, or, he tried to. his head was still against the wall, leaving a few scratches and marks and his hair was still in nanami's hand. "no sir.. we can keep going.." [name] squeaked out, his thighs trembling slightly as he had just came and by the fact that nanami was still thrusting into him.

"good." is all nanami responded with. he went far more deeper and rougher than before, the tip of his dick reaching [name]'s prostate again and again leading [name] to cum several more times over the wall.

once nanami was finished, he cleaned himself up and left [name] panting heavily on the floor of the alleyway. [name] was covered in his own cum, his hair all over the place and his wrists almost forming bruises. he did like the experience nanami gave him, but he never thought he'd be fucking with the enemy.

"pathetic little curse user you are." nanami said before he left. "you should be glad i didn't kill you and that i spared you because you're so cute." he smirked.

and that was the last [name] ever saw of the blonde sorcerer.

#nanami kento #nanami #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x male reader #nanami x male reader #nanami x reader #x reader #x you #x male reader #smut #nanami smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk smut #jjk season 2 #gay

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like-it-or-not-i-am-alive · 23 days

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Mini T update!

I'm delighted to inform my endlessly adoring fans that I! Have! Amazing! Eyebrows!

It caught me by surprise just now. I shaved my face (as I have specklings of facial hair developing in various places) and blabbering to my partner about how proud I am of my four chin hairs and my fuzzy neck.

I took an after picture because I thought it was funny that despite my facial hair not being outwardly noticeable, I still look extremely baby faced/clean-shaven after the fact.

When I looked at it to boost my gender euphoria, I noticed the front of my eyebrows were getting kinda fuzzy... then I noticed how dark they've gotten.

Guys, gals, and pals... These eyebrows are to die for. These are, like, my dream eyebrows. It's not the most noticeable to anyone else, but it's so nice.

#transgender #gay #lgbtqia #save trans kids #trans #trans pride #nonbinary #transitioning #ftm hrt #hrt #gender euphoria

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blossommoonwrites · 7 days

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HYBRID: Mayblade 2024, day 2 - As a bit-beast.

Series: Sweet Dreams Fandom: Bakuten Shoot Beyblade Genre: Fantasy/Humor Setting: Takao's dream Characters: Takao Kinomiya, Max Mizuhara, Rei Kon, Kai Hiwatari Rating: K Summary: Takao finds himself in a new realm, but as a hybrid.

[header by @/saradika]

FFN | AO3

A beam of light flickered the teen’s eyes. His eyelids parted immediately to the stimulus. But, he didn’t wake up as a human being. He found himself in a supernatural realm, unbound and unfathomed. He was bewildered to see himself, a mixed breed of a human being and a Dragon. He had no mirror to look at his face, yet he could touch and infer from the feeling. His body turned cold, his limbs trembled and his heart accelerated with intolerable fear. He was able to fly, further aggravating his assumptions.

“No… it can’t be… It seems like I’m a hybrid now. I can talk, but I share the Anatomy of a Dragon now. What?!”

The last time, he remembered he was going to bed at night. Is it his dream?

“This can’t be! I don’t belong to this world!”

Takao wandered for a while. He saw if there was some door or a portal to his world. He finds it bizarre and unbearable to have transformed into a hybrid. After a couple of minutes of searching, his frustration knew no end. He spotted another strange creature after moving a few miles away from his initial spot. He was a hybrid of a human and a turtle. Takao gasped jaw dropping.

“Max! You too?” Takao asked him.

“Uh? Seiryu-sama!”

“What?! Am I blended with my bit-beast now?” Takao gasped.

“What are you blabbering, Seiryu-sama?”

“Are you Genbu-sama?”

“That is my name.”

Takao understood that he was in a different universe. Something had happened to the original world. He assumed most of his friends were hybrids with their bit-beasts. He can’t afford to live a life like this. Takao was itching to find a solution.

“We have to meet Byakko-sama and Suzaku-sama in a few minutes. We have to secure our realm. We’ve heard rumors of aliens attempting to invade this with supernatural powers. They are probably human beings. We are the most powerful beings in this realm. The strength and integrity of the realm rely on us.”

Takao was confused, but when he looked at the pond where Genbu lived, he saw his reflection with sparkling silver and blue speckles near the corners of his eyes, causing him to panic. He was awestruck to see himself in a new Avatar.

"I've become a fictional character from a world champion, good riddance," Takao sighed.

Genbu was unable to fly. He is in the habitat most of the time.

'How did he know my name? This sounds so strange. Has this Universe existed for all these centuries or is it my dream?'

Takao and Genbu saw two more creatures approaching. Undoubtedly, they were Rei and Kai as hybrids with their bit-beasts.

"Seiryu-sama, the barrier of this realm is seemingly unstable. Our friends are trying to seal the barrier, but it consumes so much time," the tiger creature said.

"B-Byakko-sama? Is that your name?"

The tiger creature chuckled, "Seiryu-sama, you act differently today. Do you need help?"

"I'm good, Rei! Oop," Takao blurted.

"Rei? Who is that?" The tiger creature was confused.

“Apologies, B-By-Byakko-sama!” Takao stammered and bit his tongue. The others were able to read him like a book.

“Seriyu, your power is the most important to have the barrier sealed. There has been disruption. Everyone needs your help. We need to hurry up and reach the broken barrier. This is a paradise for creatures like us,” Suzaku added.

‘So, Kai doesn’t call me with respect even in this world, huh?’

“You guys delay everything here!” an old man’s voice was audible. The four mythical creatures turned back.

“Gramps! Dammit!”

“Gramps?” his friends turned to him. The word was way out of league for a mythological world.

A human male celestial was seen, with a greyish-white-long beard and mustache. His hands were tied. He had his legs crossed. He was floating in the air.

“Ryu-sama!” the creatures knelt. Takao was alarmed to see the sight.

“Seiryu, kneel!” Suzaku yelled.

“Seiryu! Because of your incompetency, our barrier has become very unstable. You need to make an effort to stabilize it! But, you eat and sleep most of the time!”

“Gramps! I have no idea why I entered this realm. I don’t belong here!”

Ryu’s ears turned red. He gritted his teeth and slapped his head.

“Get to work! You should not get a wink of sleep until you finish the work!” He splashed a gush of water on his face.

…

“No!” Takao woke up, panting hard. He found himself in his room. He glanced at the surroundings for once, and his grandfather was standing with an empty bucket. He sighed with relief.

“Thank god, I am out of the nightmare, finally.”

“Now you’ll have the worst nightmare ever! It’s ten in the morning, and you have to run errands! Get to work!”

Takao was frustrated and sighed, “After all, it’s the same fate at the end, regardless of where I am.”

#mayblade 2024 #mayblade #beyblade #bakuten shoot beyblade #tyson granger #takao kinomiya #max mizuhara #rei kon #ray kon #kai hiwatari #beyblade fanfiction #beyblade fic

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me-uglypretty · 1 year

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friends and more

Pairing: Carol Danvers x F!Reader

Summary: Carol finds herself falling for someone on earth while trying to understand why Christmas was so important, and trying to stop herself from making a mistake.

Warning: (18+), fluff, friends to lovers, carol running away from her feelings | 4k words

| winter things | Notify | Navigation |

Carol Danvers had lingered on earth after her work-related visit. Extending that period from a week, one month, three months, and delayed till December appeared, blossoming into a festive cheer.

Though, it wasn’t entirely reasoned after work that ceased her return.

It was, for the slightest of hint; lasting gaze across the room or inches away, flushed cheeks, subtle mentions of dinner or lunch, the shy graze of skin, and infinite moments that left her a blabbering mess.

Carol never expected for such things to invade her focused mind. A strong disinclination wake amidst returning to space, where she was needed for a longer period that hours length. She couldn’t offer a suffice answer to their questions, but the restrained response of soon—

tasted bitter in her mouth.

A part of her aches for that soon to never appear as she watches you, body mingling with those around, the content of your glass sloshing at every unsteady movement, the sudden seconds when eyes would meet and your mouth curve into a smile for her. Only for you, she could hear you professed.

“You’re giving heart eyes again.”

Carol huffed. “I’m not,” she excused, “I just look like this.”

Natasha, the intelligent spy and a concern friend, scoffed at her friend’s avoidance tendency. “Oh, so you look like you’re in love all the time. Good to know.”

The thought of confessing her deepest desire, terrifies her heart into an internal confinement from ever uttering such things to you. It wakes her mind with memories of a family she had, the years spend together, and celebrations made the happiest, then her abrupt departure which was presumed as death to them.

Coming back had only restored speckles of what that family was—because she could never return as the same person they knew.

She couldn’t afford to know that agony could bestowed upon you. It wouldn’t be fair for someone so pure of heart. You deserved more than someone needed elsewhere, and someone who had prioritise work so seriously.

It wounds her heart to watch you from afar, but she accepts that finality than nothing at all.

Christmas had always brought a melancholy remembrance of her past life. Muffled laughter as a child and those shared with a child, and her friend, the first person she had ever loved.

Maria was someone tender and rough, burning with passion and always emitting a comforting warmth. One of the few significant moments in Carol’s life was shared with her. The starting point of strangers to where they were living together, aiming for the same dream and caring for the kindest child, Monica.

As she sat there on her borrowed bed, a warm cup of coffee in one hand while the other pressed on the mattress, and blurry eyes staring ahead at the grey wall—you walked into her room, knuckles grazing the wooden door with soft knocks to draw her attention.

“Hey, the guys are planning something for New Year, but I think I’m going to head back home,” you explained. “And I’m offering a space in my car because I don’t think Nat or Wands are staying here either.”

Carol smiles at that, your genuine offer for a space in your home than for her to wallow in loneliness. You, somehow, knew the moments when her mood dampened to an obscure state, and you would appear, embracing her with a comforting warmth that she clings onto so greedily.

Even if she has avoided most of the festive week in her own confined space and hasn’t returned your daily calls. Only a short text consisting of busy and work.

“Before you disagree again, I promised Liho to bring you home and you can’t hurt her heart,” you added hastily, pointing an accusing finger at her.

The sheer gesture instigated an affectionate laughter from Carol which you joined, and she was readily accepting your request. It was difficult to deny you. Especially by the way you appear out of thin air, a jovial smile on your face and you would easily initiate the first contact of skin. Your hand grasping hers and she must utter the next line;

“I could fly us there,” Carol jested, followed by fumes of beige canvassing the width of her hand. “It’s faster, you know?” she added, the glow emits brighter as her eyes reflects a similar gleam.

She always yearned to hear your offended sound each time her offer rings, and you would meet her eyes—the silence that bravely dots her cheeks with warmth, and your gaze daring her to say more. A challenge ensued on what extend she would try to convince you.

You scoffed at that. The sweater on the ground had seized your attention as you collect it. A navy cotton sweater owned by Carol. It was bought two months after living in the compound when she grew tired of wearing the same jaded tint clothes since her arrival, which was generously gifted from the compound. Mostly consist of workout clothes or clothes comfortingly worn for high impact activities, all in depressing shades of grey.

“You’re such a show-off. It’s not cute,” you declared, attention fixed on the sweater’s material as your thumb brush over the seams of the left sleeve. “That kind of energy doesn’t work on me,” you mumbled, then you lifted your gaze to meet hers with a glare.

Cute lingered in her mind, while the corner of your lips rose into a smile, and she felt the distinct thumps in her chest, tugging at her heart and her mind. The sensation waking by your sheer presence.

“Are you afraid?” she teased, “Oh, Natasha would love to hear this.”

The instant dip of your smile into a frown caused a reaction from within her chest. A fleeting look appeared like you were contemplating something, and it commended her into stepping forward, unhesitatingly reaching for you, but you stepped away from her reach.

“Whatever. I’m waiting in the car,” you announced, waving dismissively as you clutched her sweater with the other hand and hastily walked out her room.

Carol was left gawking at the empty space where you stood. Recently, there were moment in which your mood abruptly declined, and frequent enough for her chest to tighten, worrying for what she might had done to trigger that reaction.

Soon or later, she promised to enquire your sudden change, as she couldn’t endure the absent smile on your face. Only for you, should never be uttered if not blushing in sheer happiness.

At least three days in a week, Carol would find herself basking in the pleasant ambiance of your shared home with Natasha and Wanda. The hall room was her preferred space. An amber lamp lit at the corner of the room, reflecting a faux glow on the pale wall and the maroon couch. There was always a stack of books on the coffee table with a simple pink note; don’t touch.

Carol often find herself compelled into grasping the books between her hands, to feel the paper slip between her fingers, to read the words that was highlighted or underline with a pencil, and to hear your annoyed sigh, as you fling a pillow at her face.

“Better put it back the same way…or else,” you’d say. After seconds that pass, you would find yourself situated beside her, an arm link over hers and your head resting on her shoulder. “Continue reading…“ and she would read to you, then pause, because there’s a wonderous glow on your face and she couldn’t help but admire.

Those books were yours, and anyone else daring enough to touch them, would wake chaos. It was your hard work from years old research and some—a secret amount only known to her—were books seeping with romance, so pure that you would smile when characters finally meet, and you would frown when heartbreak occurs.

But Carol was the exception.

The feverish warmth she felt on her skin that spread to the depth of her chest, and where you would haul her body into your room. She reminded herself of a finality that wouldn’t cause harm on you.

Now, she settled on the ground, flipping absently through one of your discovery journals. The routine was hindered. A gloomy cloud casted over your form as you excused yourself into finishing the chores around your home than those you would ignore for her.

It wouldn’t hurt for her to confront your abrupt avoidance. “Something is wrong,” she claimed, keeping your book neatly on the stack and standing from where she sat. The distance from the hall room to the kitchen wasn’t far, merely fifteen steps before she reached your proximity.

The silence that occurred for seconds, burrowed through her heart with an ache. You halted the action of pouring water into a pot and shake your head with a frown, then continued the task.

“And you’re not looking at me,” she added, her body closer to yours than before. “Did Natasha say something wrong again?”

You forced a chuckle at her presumption. “She wasn’t wrong this time.”

The encouragement that gathered her, harvesting a strength to finally speak, deflates in worrisome thoughts. Had you discovered her increasing attraction towards you? Was that the reasons for your abrupt mood change? Her thoughts ambushed with assumptions made from the dither in your expression.

“We’re close, right?” you asked softly. “Like, we spend the most time together. I like that and…you like that too, don’t you?”

Hesitation ceased to exist with the urgent nod of her head and on instinct, her hand enclosed around yours. “Of course. I love spending time with you. It’s the only thing that I look most forward to. I mean, this, you are the highlight of my day.”

You seemed reluctant at her affectionate touch. “Why didn’t you tell me about Maria?”

It was comical at what phase the question cracked through the warm space. Faint jingles in the background, diffused fairy lights from the hall room casted vaguely in the kitchen, and the festive trinkets around mocked her misery. And yet, her body absentmindedly sloped, the scent of your soap smears her nostrils.

If she pretended, the ambience pulled at a domestic chapter of life. Her hand would grasp yours, body melting into the other, and forgotten was her past in exchange for a future with you.

But you pushed yourself away from her.

“Maria? I don’t understand,” Carol paused, contemplating whether she should excuse herself from saying something wrong or endure the wounded look on your face.

Your sharp intake of breath had pushed her mind into the worst scenarios. But your hand found hers, dragging her to where a faux Christmas tree stood proudly, glimmering in colourful decoration and emitting the strangest cluster of a family from some unusual ornaments.

A specific ornament seized your attention. “Wanda made this for me,” you said, right fingers hooking around the silvery thread that hangs from the faux tree branch.

The ornament in question was a glittering sphere. When shook, it reveals an image of you and Wanda, stood close together and appearing younger in age. It was taken exactly three weeks after joining the Avenger’s initiative. The position deflected in extensive research of powerful existences.

However, your supposed unnoticed role had roused a conversation with an equally new Avenger.

“She was my first best friend,” you muttered, “I was a nobody and she was somebody— but we felt like nothing. We lost so much, and we became friends out of grief. Now, we live together and can’t live a day apart without bothering the other,” you said with humour laced in your tone.

The ornament was placed back as another graze the tips of your fingers. It was two miniature batons, similar in colour and design to what Natasha owned. A vast contrast in shape from your forefinger to the ornament and the hand that seemingly tightens in yours—as your left hand stayed enclosed around hers.

“This is for Nat from me, because we are friends too,” your gaze shift to another as your right fingers clasps a flat golden pendant. “We are friends, aren’t we?”

Carol sought for a better answer that would ease your worrisome questions, but your hand was tugging at hers, resulting in eyes to meet intently and in her favour, for she could admire you closely. The characteristics of your emotions, displayed on your face and still, different from what flickers in your eyes, how words seem to slip from your mouth and swirls discreetly in the round of your eyes.

“Tell me, why do your hate Christmas?”

She doesn’t understand what had led to your question after mentioning your best friends. The intense look on your face halted her advance of diverting from the question.

“Maria was someone important, wasn’t she?” you asked, and she nodded her head. “You…you loved her, correct?” and that received the same answer. “Is that why you hate Christmas? You used to spend it with them. Your own family and now— Natasha told me everything. The distaste for the holidays, how space was better because Christmas was another day, and everything was easier.”

All those thoughts, acknowledged or unconsciously ignored, returned to her in rapid pulses. Carol’s life was carved out in the universe far from your earth, where your most precious people live while hers concluded with devastation.

But that wasn’t the reason for refraining to entertain in the idea of a holiday that she has happily joined with you, sharing memories of fake snowball fights, being the only adult among children and taking pictures with the mall Santa Claus.

“You spend the most of December with me. Why would you do that?” you scoffed. “And you’re leaving next month. It’s funny, Fury told me….and not you.”

Carol knew she has acute sense of avoiding conflict which had worsen since she acknowledged her fondness for you that went far from what was found between friends. It wasn’t fair, as you were leaning forward and raised yourself, surely to stare into her eyes without the chance of her drifting from the current matter.

“You were away on Christmas week, but you said it was work,” you seemed, already, demand on knowing her truth. “Why did you lie and pretend that everything was fine?”

She looked away, eyes gazing through branches of the faux tree and found distraction on the fairy light, specifically a yellow tint bulb flickering every few seconds.

A hand, soft and tender, touches her face. “Carol, I wouldn’t ask for anything…but I would be happy having you here with us, and not know that you were downing in your sorrow. We are friends, and I want to know about Maria…about everything.”

Carol was smiling as her hand rest over yours. “I know. We are the best of friends. I would always treasure that, us.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you pushed, shaking slightly and she saw, her eyebrows furrowed at your needed answers. “We are friends and friends tell each other everything, don’t they?”

Little by little, Carol allowed her mind to wonder, and feign that her reason wasn’t forced upon her past, but she had begun to love the feeling, and perhaps, she feared it may surrender her life on earth infinitely. It was too late for such decisions. Carol reflected on her last Christmas, decorating the tree with Maria and Monica. Joy wisps through laughter and love, so pure that her heart trembles to lose that again.

“Friends,” Carol mumbled, “We are friends.”

Your thumb traces the texture of her skin. “Tell me, why you did you do every little Christmas thing with me then disappeared for a week and promptly made the decision to leave.”

She resisted the temptation that fastens around her throat, then surrendered. “Because I was falling in love.”

And the confession that fell, was embraced by your hand on her face—guiding her to meet your gaze.

“I know,” you whispered with such secrecy.

Carol felt her heart halt it’s needed pulse. “What?”

When silence befell, she felt the soft press of your lips on her own, and the experience was different. The contact of lips melding together, and not like those kisses placed on her cheeks. But the caress of soft lips against her own and blood rushed to her face, warm and senseless as she descends to your prodding touch.

You abruptly drew back, as if the kiss was compelling you for more by your sheer grip on her bicep while the other grasps her jaw. The first sight she saw was your dilated pupils and mouth parted, just pleading for her touch.

After a pause, Carol said, in a hesitating tone and a vast contrast from what she felt at the meet of lips;

“You kissed me?” she tested, worry clouding her mind of an illusion. “We kissed,” she concluded. “And you are— why did you? This shouldn’t have happened.”

You scoffed at her response. “Stop running away.”

Carol, upon hearing your offended tone, stepped back immediately and your hands fell to your side. The impudence of your action had made her overwhelmed and senseless in what she must do next.

“We aren’t friends,” you countered. “A friend doesn’t do everything on their friend’s Christmas list, to the most ridiculous thing— do you actually think I wanted to meet mall Santa? He looked like a creep. I wanted you to finally admit it, but you go off hiding and planning your next exit,” you ranted, taking a deep breath and staring at her bewildered face.

“What— what?” she choked.

You crossed your arms, jaw slacked as you waited for her mind to apprehend the vital information.

The flood of confessions hasn’t surfaced in her mind. You had poured out your heart to her, while she repeated those words in her head and pictured the days leading up to where she stands opposite you. A feeble body with an even worse reaction.

She hasn’t realised at first. The persistent request of her presence and no-nonsense response to her extended invite at other’s questioning looks. It was clearly your necessity of having her, just her and not anyone else.

And the one specific memory. A moment in which you had easily grab her hand, pulled her towards a wonderous hallway of Christmas decoration dangling from the ceiling, and insisted on stopping below one ornament, but Carol was hungry, and diverted your attention to lunch.

That ornament was a flourishing mistletoe.

Signs after another crashed in her mind. “You wanted to kiss me before. The mistletoe at that place.”

You hummed. “I thought I was wrong about your feelings. But I was told about…what happened with your life before this and I guess, it’s scary to find yourself in that position again.”

Carol was unable to move. “So, you knew? And you like me too?” she asked in a certain plaintive tone. She faintly hears the sounds ripples around her and felt the warmth that made her skin feel sticky as an itch made known in the palms of her hand.

“You can’t run away,” you blurted, sensing the sudden change. “Liho wouldn’t like it— and I wouldn’t like to see you leave.”

The rhythm of her heart echoed in her ears. The confession repeated as a thought in her mind. It wasn’t a fiction or a daydream, but you had kissed her and confessed to something she feared admitting out loud, only to acknowledged in the confined space of her mind.

“Carol,” you continued, reaching for her hand. “We both know that just friends aren’t us.”

A thought occurred, shocking and joyful, a thought of which she felt a bond break and mend again, only differently this time.

“If you like me, would you fly with me?” Carol proposed, gripping your hand in hers, and the fumes of beige seems to canvass around your hands as an enchanting glow.

The moment circulated familiarity in the air. A beaming smile on her face, cheeks round and eyes glossy, as though, she was at the verge of crying for the sudden confession.

Your mouth parted in shock at her question, before smiling widely and you squeeze her hand. “Still a show-off,” you whispered, releasing the words slowly and leaning closer into her. “It’s not cute,” you added as your lips brushed over hers, and felt the hot air blew at her shaky breath.

Carol squeezed her eyes closed. Anticipation made her flushed and she tries to think of everything that wasn’t you—not the warmth of your mouth over hers and warmer tongue tracing the seam of her bottom lip or your hand resting firmly on her cheek while the other lead her hand to your waist, insisting her to hold you with a sturdy grip.

Eventually, she submitted into your amorous touch.

She kisses you the way her heart thumps with the beat of sensual tenderness and an eager roughness, like she might had imagined you and she had to know if you were real. The proof was received by your grunt as her hand tugs your body flushed against hers, and the lurid moans pulled from your mouth at the abrupt touch of her hand over your cladded ass.

“Okay,” you breathed out, pulling away from her. “You’re working too good on me and— I’m making tea, or I won’t stop.”

In seconds the warmth of your body was replaced with the cold wind that blew through the space, and your retrieving steps back into the kitchen. Carol remained there, her hand lifting to her face and the pad of her fingers pressed her lips for seconds, before a soft laughter left her mouth.

Carol never know—she had never knew the sparks that would spread the width of her hand, or that the glow emitting from her body would be rendered as trivial matter when compared to the way you had kissed her and fully embrace her body with a significant warmth.

Amidst her dreamlike state, she doesn’t notice the way you were intently watching her reaction. But feel something else instead. A foreign object prodding at the right pocket of her jeans. At that, her attention was seized by what was kept in her pocket as her hand slips inside, the pad of her fingers grazed something cold, before clasping the object between her fingers and taking it out.

What was revealed—an unknown golden pendant.

It gleams beneath the faux lights from the Christmas tree and the warm lights in the hall room. Her hand twists the object held between her fingers with a golden thread messily tied at the edge. A circular border held the shape in the middle which was a beautifully carved star, unique in style and detail. At closer inspection, she realised the similarities to the symbol on her suit and she felt her heart clenched.

Her thumb traces the texture of the object, till she felt something peculiar behind the pendant. She turned it over and released a shaky breath at what she saw.

For the universe I’ve love since…

Those words were neatly engraved on the circular border, perfectly lined and easily read. Beneath, on the other end of the border, was the continued of said sentence.

and for who I shall love forevermore…

She felt her heart pulsing in her chest and thumps on her wrist as she held the pendant. Fingers tracing each curves and edges, memorising where it laid and what it said.

It was, as if, the precious object in her hand had whispered reassurance to her wondering mind and guided her heart toward the desirable direction, not one led by doubt and worry. The true notion of her heart slips at her palm, as she clutches the pendant affectedly.

“She loves me, she really loves me…oh fuck, she loves me?” a soft voice whispered, cracking at the end, and the silent weeping that followed.

Carol was there, awaiting the horrid flash to strike her—but she only sees you, walking back into the hall room with two cups. A beaming smile on your face when met with the sight of her clutching the pendant.

The past is a faint sound. A blemished memory that aided her at some point of life. It doesn’t control her heart from leaping into your hands and for her to dive into the depth of your heart. The past is that, a beautiful moment and a sad memory, but a lesson and a life that couldn’t be change.

“So, what’s the plan?” you questioned, hesitation laced in your tone at what answers may reach the fond ambience.

The answer came with a desirous kiss on your lips, and her hands firmly cupping your face. “Here, with you,” she whispered, before kissing you again.

Christmas brought a new jovial memory—one that soothes a warmth in her chest, the kind that leaves her smiling till her cheeks ache, and the pure love that flutters at every second. All by your side, the one she sworn to stay by and never consider leaving infinitely.

#winter things #carol danvers x reader #carol danvers x you #carol danvers imagine

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comatosebunny09 · 2 years

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Good, Better, Best

Genre: PWP, Angst, Modern AU

Warnings: Graphic Description of Sex, Female Reader, Self-Loathing, Word Vomit, MDNI!

Inspiration: Call Out My Name – The Weeknd

As always, thank you so much for reading! Hope you enjoy! Considering making this another multi-part series.

‘I have a thing for blonds,’ you muse, sifting through strawy, flaxen locks. Maybe you always have, but it took a certain fiery-haired pillar to bring it to the surface.

Your lips part in a shaky sigh, eyes weighted like sandbags, chest afire. The man between your thighs—your prey for the evening—grunts into the juncture of your shoulder; paints your flesh with foul words and open-mouthed kisses. He talks too much. Touches too little, but you will take what you can get. Whatever brings you closer. You deserve this, after all; deserve the discomfort of your back grinding against the brick wall and the veiny cock fucking avidly into you and...

This is painful bliss.

Sweat pours in rivulets down your chest, drip-dropping on the ground below. You grit your teeth as his pace quickens; thrusts harsh and disordered as he snaps into you. And oh.

Oh, fuck.

A shudder wracks your body, toes curling. Speckles of light stipple the corners of your vision. He hit that spot. Not very many people have done it, so focused on bringing themselves to the brink whilst neglecting your needs. You wonder if it was on purpose, seeing as how he’s become more and more erratic by the second.

He’s close. You’re far from it, but...

Fuck it. Anything to feel, right?

You scramble for purchase, nails leaving ellipses in his shoulder blades. Hiccup so pitifully into the nook of his neck. You asked for this; begged for it. This is warranted. You never like it soft, anyway. Prefer hot and furtive fucking that reduces you to a blabbering mess of incoherencies. This way, you can forget how you continually allow yourself to be violated by cheap imitations.

For now, this is good. This will suffice. This will do, and…

And his hips stutter like a sputtering engine, disrupting the inner mechanisms of your mind. Suddenly, he comes undone, much too soon for your liking.

Of course, everyone does.

You deserve this, too.

You wince whilst he releases a guttural sound. Coats your walls with scorching, viscous fluid that burns a trail down your inner thigh. The smell is repugnant, but it’s okay. This is alright as he releases you from his ironclad grip and unsheathes, allowing you to slide down the wall with a fucked-out expression descending onto your features.

He doesn’t say a word. The only sounds between you are the jarring zip of his pants, and the chorus of city-life beyond the towering walls of the alleyway. The blond departs as quickly as he came, leaving you to gather yourself from the crumpled heap of sweat, cum, and contempt you’ve become.

You didn’t get his name; never asked. You prefer it this way, as it makes it easier to envision him between your thighs instead.

You fight to get your breath under control. Sweep your tresses into some semblance of neat, heaving yourself up from the ground onto trembling, crackling limbs. You fix your dress as best you can, grateful for its length.

Wouldn’t want him to see the remnants of your tryst coasting down your legs.

He regards you so highly, after all. Too highly. You’re not that amazing; not the innocent woman everyone has typecast you to be. If only they knew how frequent your run-ins with passion have become. Would they still respect you? Coddle you? Adore you?

Would he?

You spare a glance at your reflection in a shop window. Push yourself into the sea of passerby once satisfied, stumbling down the sidewalk, eyes darting this way and that. You continue fussing with your hair until—

“There you are!” That voice: warm, familiar, enticing. Drawing you in like a moth to a flame, commanding your attention. You watch with bated breath as Kyojuro approaches you; polished in his burgundy button-up, loosened tie, and onyx slacks. He stops a few inches from you. Aura is imposing despite the effervescent grin on his face.

Burnt cedarwood and aftershave impede your nostrils, a tide of vertigo crashing into you. Heat from his body trundles off him in waves, causing liquid fire to singe your innards. Kyojuro dwarfs you by a foot. Slowly, you tick height off as another must-have in your internal book for your future victims encounters.

You think of how easy it would be to stand on the tips of your toes and just kiss that pretty, cerise mouth of his. Your mouth grows dry with the notion. How silly you must look, gaping like a fish out of water. Stammering like some frazzled schoolgirl.

Really, honestly, truly. Kyojuro is much too beautiful like this, iridescent eyes gleaming under the harsh streetlights. He gives you a once over, frowning.

“Are you alright?” he asks, reaching out to console you, ground you. Concern swims in the undercurrents of his tone. You shrug away from his touch because…well, you don’t deserve his compassion right now. Never have, never will. Especially after—

“You look a bit flushed,” he adds, hurt dotting his tone.

Good job. You’ve gone and made him feel bad. Stupid, stupid girl.

“Perfectly fine!” you chirp, clasping your hands together behind your back, bouncing on the balls of your feet. You plaster a foolhardy grin on your face, following it up with a strained chuckle. “Just a little cold is all.” The lie is heavy on your tongue, much like the regret sinking into your stomach. You’ve never had a problem doing it before. Filling your spare time with quickies and men in his likeness.

So, why is it bothering you now?

“Ah! It is a bit chilly, isn’t it? Here! Take my jacket!” Kyojuro wrests his coat from his shoulders, moving swiftly to drape it over yours.

Sick. You feel so very sick. The sour taste of bile collects at the back your throat, but you smile around it. You aren’t worthy of his kindness. His pity. Not when…not like…

“I’m fine, Rengoku-san. Really!” your voice, saccharine; overwhelmingly so. Liar. Liar. You’re not fine, but this will do. ‘This is fine,’ you chant to yourself, ignoring the homely embrace of his coat enveloping your frame. How it reeks of the cinder he was forged from.

Kyojuro grins tenfold, maneuvering himself to stand beside you. “I will hail us a taxi,” he says, offering his arm. You observe it for a little while. Feel the acrid vomit char your throat, but you take it. Twine it with yours, falling in idle step beside him as he guides you to the cabstand. This, you don’t deserve. However, it is as close as you will get to touching the sun.

He swims in your peripheral, a stark contrast against the twinkling bokeh in the horizon. That ardent insufferable smile still sits atop his lips. He is so very warm and welcoming. You swallow, looking at your feet.

This was your last time. For real. Has been the last time four last times ago. You can’t continue doing this to yourself; to him. What would he think if he knew you possessed such depraved thoughts of him? If Kyojuro knew your body ached so painfully for his touch; if he discovered what you did to satiate your yearning for him…

Would he able to stand the sight of you?

You can’t risk it. Can’t keep putting your friendship at stake. The sun is unavoidable, after all. If you continue on like this, it’s only a matter of time before you are burned.

Masterlist

#kyojuro x reader #my works #demon slayer fanfic #kny fanfic #rengoku kyojuro #kny reader insert #rengoku kyojuro x reader #kny rengoku #kyojuro rengoku #rengoku smut #kyojuro smut #pardon me i've got some self loathing to do #friends to enemies #friends to lovers #rengoku x reader #18+ fic #mdni

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thatonemedicinecat · 1 year

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Crunch, crunch, crunch...

That was the sound of the snow under my paws. It was better than pure silence, which was came more often than I liked. Even in camp every cat was silent, as if some secret closed their jaws shut. Whatever it may be, I've grown to enjoy the silence. It's much better than...

"Do you think we'll find any prey?" A light brown and black patched apprentice asked, her golden eyes gleaming despite the darkness of the snowy meadow. "Will there be enough? What if we get hungry? Or lost?" She kept blabbering. I narrowed my blue eyes against the blowing wind, feeling irritation prickling at my paws, my claws itching to slide out and slash her cheek. But, I kept composed. "Of course we'll find prey, Twingepaw." I managed to snort the least hurtful words. The she-cat didn't look like she believed me the slightest bit, but I ignored it and lunged forward a few tail lengths.

Without Twingepaw chewing my ear off with her nerves, I managed to snatch a thin wren and a sparrow. But something pulled me further out into the dead, snow-packed meadow. Maybe just the itch to walk around after being stuck in camp for weeks after the blizzard. What ever it may be, I let it guide my paws over the lumpy, thick, crunchy snow.

I walked to the very edge of the territory, beside the border of my clan, Witheringclan, and Brittleclan. I carefully scooped snow over my prey, patting it with my long, black-gray tail. Then I turned and sniffed around the border, catching the faint smells of Brittleclan. Old, young, weak, strong... It all was here.

Suddenly, a twig crackled from across the border, and my head snapped up. I met the irritationly cheerful gold gaze of a white and gray speckled she-cat, who stood on the other side of the border with a mouse in her jaws. Beside her, a light blue tom-cat with black paws glared at me. "Are you a Witheringclan apprentice?" The speckled she-cat asked, her voice filled of amazement. My black-gray pelt tingled with hostility, knowing quite well these cats were not my friends; Loststar and Wolfstar, my leaders, had made that clear after much bloodshed during border disputes. "Yes." I managed to growl, my blue eyes still narrowed. "Cool! I'm Quailpaw and this is Skypaw!" The speckled she-cat waved her tail at her companion, who looked the least bit excited to see me. "That's cool." I hissed half-heartedly. "Now if you don't mind-" She cut me off with a squeal. "I've never met a Brittleclan cat! What's it like?" Quailpaw meowed. My pelt burned with frustration. "The same as you, probably." I retorted. Though I gave short, edgy answers, she looked determined to stay and chat. But in this weather, with them? No way. "Do you kill your own Clanmates?" Quailpaw squeaked, her gold eyes wide with questions. "Wh- n-" I began, only to be cut off by a deep hiss. Great. I turned my head over my shoulder and saw Wolfstar, her long and ragged gray-and-white patched pelt glittering with snow. Behind her, Twingepaw and a light brown-and-gray speckled she-cat warrior followed.

"What are you doing so close to these beetle-pelts?" Wolfstar demanded, her pelt bristled angerly. "I was checking the border and they started talking my ears off!" I snapped back, my black-gray pelt bristling crossly. "You left Twingepaw in the territory to come sniff borders?" Wolfstar sneered mockingly. "Twingepaw wouldn't shut up!" I spat. I looked over my shoulder and realised both Brittleclan apprentices were pelting away. Rabbit-hearts! "Get over here!" Wolfstar hissed to me, lashing her tail. Angerly, I slipped to her side. Wolfstar turned on her heels and began racing towards camp. Specklepelt, the warrior, raced beside her. I and Twingepaw followed more slowly. "You told?" I grumbled. "You never came back!" Twingepaw hissed, her patched pelt ruffled. I rolled my eyes and pulled ahead of her, anger prickling at my pads.

#warrior cats comic #cats #art #authors #warrior cats #SS'Spage1

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friendsoftheforest-novel · 11 months

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Ch. 3 Night Begins

Rosa's POV

---------------

The sun was beginning to set.

The sky, painted in brilliant warm colors, was preparing for a change. Weaving in and out, various shades and tints bobbed over and under the horizon, seeping through the fluffy clouds, making the bland, white clouds bleed with colors. Yet farther from the horizon line, the darker the colors became. Bright pink to dark pink, light orange to blood red, speckles of light gray to velvety blue…

The night was approaching, the moon was soon to dominate as the sun retires.

"It seems like it's finally time."

Blood red eyes blinked awake, a color more gruesome than any slaughtered prey's blood within this foliage.

The little creature, the size of a walnut, yet honing a pair startlingly eyes craned her small body. She was perfectly camouflaged within the trees as the green of her body fits right in with the leaves.

Shuffling her body, the creature slowly stretched her body out, taking a huge stretch. The good kind of stretch that makes the eye glimmer in a twinkle in satisfaction, the whole body twitching.

With a little pop, cobalt blue limbs appeared as her little, orange feet and hands also peeked out.

Originally tucking her little limbs under her body, the single tone of green ended up with some a company of colors.

"Aaah."

With a slow blink, the creature, a red-eyed tree frog, took a breath of the nighttime air.

"Ay, Rosa, are you prepared for some hunting!"

Rosa turned to the noisy source calmly and slowly spoke, "Rony, please tame your excitement. It just turned night."

"Whatever you say, Rosa!" Rony exclaimed. He was exactly the same as Rosa. Bright green, shiny blue, striking orange, and…blood red.

"Anyways, I'll be going with the pack, the family. I guess I gotta use the technical name, you know, the Army! Defiantly know the ants ain't happy with that one. Anyways, you know, the Army likes to have some nightly partying while the stars are coming out. You gotta come!"

"Alright, Rony. Enjoy some family time then. I'll be taking a little hop around the place."

"Why? No family time?! Why go to other boring places?"

"Rony, let's not be a frog in the well. You've only seen this one tree, what about the hundreds upon thousands of other trees? Open the mind to the new of this world." Rosa gazed thoughtfully within the deepness of the never-ending barricade of trees.

"C'mon Rosa, you know the brain in here is smaller than a seed! Can't. Understand. Nothing." Rony blabbered playfully, wadding up his little orange toes into a little fist, knocking at his brain on beat with every syllable, "I'll be going now. Just don't stray too far away!"

"Don't worry, I won't," replied Rosa.

With a skillful leap, arcing in the air gracefully, Rosa started to make her way to the interlocking branches of the trees. Twisting and tangling, vines wrapped around the branches, tying them into a messy bundle. Thousands of leaves tickled each other, brushing past each other gently when the nightly breeze kicked in.

Rosa, using the intimately knotted foliage to her advantage, with great ability, soon disappeared into the greenery.

"Dang...What a badass," Rony murmured in a daze.

"..."

"...Whelp, I better get going now!" With much less skill than Rosa, Rony leaped up the tree, hopping by foot to every skew branch that look like broken limbs, until he finally made his way to a flat yet sturdy branch.

"Ayoo! Everyone! Rony is in the Army!"

There was a hollering and croaking, an enthusiastic response to Rony's arrival.

And with that, the night began.

#novel #original writing #wholesome #frog #daily dose #cute #comedy #funny #cute animals #original novel #rainforest

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primadonnaromance · 1 year

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Prima Donna Romance Season 1 Episode 2: Leslie

Previously on Prima Donna Romance... Shelby Denningford discovers that Jacob LaFierre is in a relationship with someone else, even though she thinks he's a monogamous man.

The bullies sat at one table, the popular kids sat at a table next to them, the loners sat at their own table, the miscellaneous and those who fit no or more than one stereotype sat at one table, and Shelby Denningford and Jacob LaFierre sat at their own table alone. The principal couldn't control it, and it's not that nobody wanted to sit with them; they just wanted to sit alone, and the others at that lunch just let them. Now, it was just Jacob LaFierre and some others while Shelby Denningford hung out with the socialites, who sat in the opposite end of the cafeteria.

At the table Jacob sat at, there was Bonnie Nelson: the quarterback for the girls' football team; Fidley Oswaldson: the school bully who Bonnie had a crush on; Pattie Watson, the school's news anchor for their YouTube channel and YouTube sensation overall; and then there was him. Jacob wasn't too popular.

But they who named themselves "The Rude Boys" didn't care, just as much as they didn't care that they called themselves "boys" whilst a girl dined among them. They were what they wanted to be, and right now they were friends.

LaFierre sat at the circular table, at the seat facing the window peering into principal's office; Harvey De Brosse was retiring, and that was the topic Nelson was blabbering about while Jacob spaced out. "Did you all hear about the principal? He got caught yelling at you, Jacob, and now he's getting fired."

"What a bunch of baloney," muttered Watson, slamming her fists onto the table. That drew the attention of the entire cafeteria. "I'm sorry for interrupting your dining experiences." The cafeteria returned to its usual chatter. "There's no way he's getting fired after the fiasco Jacob caused."

"Yeah, whatever," LaFierre snapped out of his trance and put his feet on the table. He didn't feel like Denningford and him had to break up, but when Denningford found out he was having an affair with the principal's daughter, Leslie De Brosse, Denningford didn't take it too kindly, and neither did the principal. Dating the principal's daughter didn't do him any favors with either party. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Baloney, you didn't do anything wrong." Watson got up and walked over to LaFierre, who slouched into his seat. It looked to the Rude Boys like Watson was about to slap LaFierre so hard she'd wake up and Denningford would be married to Oswaldson. "If you hadn't cheated on Shelby, we could've avoided all of the 'first school week chaos.'"

LaFierre rose from his seat and clocked Watson in the face, who fell to her feet with her nose covered by her hands. That was unexpected. The cafeteria didn't stop its usual chaos to see what was happening this time.

Watson dragged LaFierre into the hallway and punched him until Principal De Brosse left his office, and shouted, "What in the name of names is going on?"

"I'm giving Jacob the beatdown of a lifetime, that's what." Watson kept punching until Principal De Brosse stomped over and held her back, grabbing her while simultaneously grumbling into her radio. But that didn't stop Watson; she kept wriggling in the principal's arms, and Principal De Brosse had a smug smirk on his face.

While Principal De Brosse took Watson to his office, a mitten-clad hand helped LaFierre up; his second flame Leslie De Brosse had witnessed the beatdown happen, but she didn't want to do anything because Watson and Leslie knew each other. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," said Jacob, panting. "Why is Watson so mad? Shelby and her aren't even friends, especially after the incident at Salisbury."

While Watson was punching him, she smeared hot dog all ober his face; Leslie took a napkin to LaFierre's mustard speckled face. "Pattie and Shelby were part of the same club. There was a schism in the club."

"There is still a schism in the club," Oswaldson said, wiping the excess mustard splatter off his shirt. LaFierre didn't see him, but he was slowly approaching Watson while she was beating LaFierre, and he too had gotten a smear of mustard, and even a bit of relish, evident by a green stain on his collar. "The club members are split because of what happened."

"What happened, exactly?" LaFierre asked. There was talk around the school of a schism, but he wasn't in the know. Whenever he brought it up with Denningford, he got the same answer. What happened in the Chess Club Schism in the first three days of school?

Oswaldson gossiped, "Shelby caught Pattie with Pattie's boyfriend at the popular kids' lunch table after Shelby broke up with you." The others at the table gasped, and leaned in so they could hear her better. "Pattie wanted revenge, so she started dating Shelby's middle school ex."

LaFierre stopped her right there, thinking he may have learned something from Oswaldson that Denningford didn't tell her while they were dating. Denningford had a boyfriend before him? LaFierre rose from his seat, stomped over to the popular girls' table, and smacked Denningford across the face. She fell to the floor with a thump.

When LaFierre checked on her, she wasn't breathing. LaFierre started to panic, and the principal was rushing out of his office. What would he do now?

Coming up on Prima Donna Romance... Shelby's and Jacob's war against each other ignites once more, but so does their affection.

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serosgirl · 3 years

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the differing ways attack on titan characters smooch the love of their lives (includes: armin, jean, mikasa, connie, hanji, eren, reiner, levi, erwin)

sensual fluff (some are vaguely suggestive)

gender neutral reader !

— ARMIN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who plasters a chaste peck onto your unsuspecting figure before dropping his head and stealing away whatever breath you were to afterwords inhale. armin who can’t find the resolve to peel his eyes away because you are a descendant from the heavens; a gift of abundant blessings to an unforgiving mortal who had deemed himself unworthy of your grace, but he were no saint. armin, the sinner, who indulged himself with the bliss that had been you. armin whose own exterior falters and dwindles into an imitating replica of when he were an awestruck little boy. he had become so fascinated, bewitchingly enamored, by illustrated wonders of the world, yet he so quickly abandoned his previous enchantment to consume himself with your intoxicating touch.

— REINER ༄ ˗ˏˋ who passionately sweeps you into his arms and smooths his capped lips flush to your jaw. reiner who leisurely swallows your exhales of bliss as if previously deprived from the touch of intimacy. he fervently irons an abundance of disorderly suckles to your neck, bruising the heated skin with contortions molded as the shape of his lips. reiner who strives to leave your knees weak and buckled, inducing your considerably smaller palms to desperately grip at his shoulders as his palms effortlessly hoist you by your hips.

— HANJI ༄ ˗ˏˋ who cutely giggles against your glossy lips. hanji who zealously sighs into your mouth, rambling ceaselessly when blabbering all abysmal contents residing in their heart, further leaning into your chest and cheekily whispering of the finite promises that awaited you both in the future. hanji who refuses to blink away the lovely sight of your countenance and meticulously etches the mesmerizing taste of your lips into lasting memory.

— MIKASA ༄ ˗ˏˋ who awkwardly shuffles her lips against yours, not quite certain where to efficiently glide her mouth or place her wringing hands. pink tinges the porcelain of her flared cheeks, but a feisty glare pinches her brows into a brief expression of irk that dies at the sight of your amusement. her bottom lip juts into a pout when you laugh at her contemporary conflict. mikasa who continuously proceeds to clumsily bump your nose as she impatiently tugs your shoulders near. the romantically inexperienced ackerman who can’t suppress the desire to impress you but fails to stick the landing each time. mikasa who earnestly perks to her knees when your soft lips split, eagerly asking if you’d let her try again. she convinces you that the last attempts were flukes; a warm up for the final challenge. mikasa who outwardly squirms and curses in disdain when you both buck heads and separate with various exclaims of pain. mikasa who, in her defeat, chooses to speckle a reconciling smooch at the corner of your mouth, visibly preening when you told her to do it once more.

— CONNIE ༄ ˗ˏˋ who impishly cups your face as to directly draw you near before he playfully tackles you into a brief series of faintly peppered kisses. connie whose optics of sterling silver glint with mischief as his fingers spontaneously wiggle along your quivering sides in an effort to extract the echo of a laugh from your lips, and connie who concludes his ministration with a lingering swipe of his nose, roughly brushing the tip of his own against yours in a child-like kiss.

— EREN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who heatedly guides your settlement onto his lap before plunging towards your mouth in a frisking effort to devour what remained of your hazy awareness. eren who leaves your puckered lips swollen and quivering by the conclusion of his endeavor, leaning away to observe your dazed state with a satisfactory hum of approval, drawing near as to rekindle the bruising force of his lips upon your own. eren who greedily clutches and detains your antsy frolic by cleaving a palm to the small of your back, stiffly pressing you to his chest with an unyielding restraint as to freely conduct a scheme motivated by the intention to reduce you to a state of wilder.

— JEAN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who simpers when he deliberately separates from your embrace by prying away and halting the intimate dance formerly initiated. his first kiss had been vexatiously brief, whisking your subjected plump hills in a synchronizing graze similar to the fleeting contact of something ghostly; never lingering upon your nude appendages for a second too long. jean whose riling infliction deserved brazen classification as a poor display of affection. jean who purposefully teased you to receive an earful of whiny whimpers that suggested he promptly exhort additional efforts or his cute, little lover would be compelled to execute empty threats. jean who indifferently mumbles an apology and roughly pins you beneath his weight, smugly questioning if he had efficiently made amends.

— LEVI ༄ ˗ˏˋ whose kisses are commonly renown as esteemed rarities and seldom acquaint with your supple skin. levi whose faint brushing of his lips remains long after he has finished as a bitter tinge of coffee sour on your tongue. the weight of his doughy lips coat yours in a sugarless tart, his sheen lips nark and purposefully tormenting you with an antagonizing pleasantry that were to occur once every eclipse of celeste. levi who struggles when conveying his harbored ardor, submitting to the intensity of heat that blossomed from the kindled fire of his heart. levi who yearns for an affinity but is terrified of the eternal menaces that endanger you and himself alike, scared to lose the last entity with possession of his fancy.

— ERWIN ༄ ˗ˏˋ who claws the blunt tips of his fingers into your dough-like middle, eyelids fluttered to a gentle close and hands eagerly palming at your waist as if he’d never receive another opportunity to hold you in his arms. erwin who wrenches your hips flush to his own when you attempt to break away, and erwin who lengthens the duration by hastily capturing your pouty lips in a wordless goodbye.

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stickyspeckledlight · 3 days

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Still haven’t finished 2.2 bc I had to stop to study for midterm, BUT SUNDAY IS NOT BEATING THE YAN ALLEGATIONS JUST LOOK AT THAT BIRD SCENE—

Look. Sure. I have an Aven fic, and then at least two or three more planned after it.

But. Listen.

Do you really think that hyv can dangle a carrot in front of me AND EXPECT ME NOT TO TAKE IT LIKE A GLUTTONOUS LITTLE PIG???!!!!!!!! 🐖

I have sooooo many ideas…….

FOR THE PEOPLE DEMAND KFC 🍗

#snndbdjdjkd hngghhhhh sunday with emotional manipulation against a ‘weak’ reader #hdhehdbsbwwhudhdbdbsjsjssgbwshkdndjdndkdjdndbd #AHHHHHHHHH #look aventurine listen ok I love writing self destruction esp mutual self destruction #but here’s the thing #the people DEMAND KFC #Dw aven lovers I still love our peacock #but you gotta understand #I hate KFC #but now that KFC has its own anime boy #I’m prepared to write thousands of words venting my hatred of KFC #yes this is actually just a cover to tell y’all how much I hate kfc /j #speckled blabbers #yandere Sunday

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years

Note

22! angst to fluff pls love ur works <333

THANK YOU SM EVERYONE FOR REQUESTING HOPE YA'LL LIKE IT LOVE YAA !!!!!!

Harry hates one thing, most. That’s silence. Still, Y/N gave him a silent treatment knowing how much it drives him insane. It pinches him in throat in the most sickening way and makes him vicious about their fights more.

She has her reason too. Anyone would have a right to be mad if their boyfriend will be seen going to bars with models and cherry on top it turns out be his ex.

In his defence it was a PR stunt to keep the quietude about his dating life since Y/N and Harry’s relationship is private for Y/N's sake.

“You could’ve atleast told me, tha' you were going with her?” Was all she said. Confusion and insecurities and the images of her glued all over him mocked her in the most brutal way before she was distancing herself away from him.

He did anything in his will to bring her back to him, apologised and tried to shower her in kisses, making her brekkie and staying at home but she kept on pushing him away.

The problem wasn’t him. It was her. She blamed herself. He’s been nothing but so gentle with her and she’s towing him away like a used tissue.

Harry knew Y/N anxiety was always at bay and he didn’t want to worsen it by going public but it was biting him in arse as questions upon questions were thrown at him for past three years.

It's Saturday morning and she appears from the guest room after ages, the sight for sore eyes.

Harry’s eyes that were staring the tiled wall of kitchen flitters towards her and his gaze turns soft when he sees her drowned into one of his lilac sweater (she missed him so much and felt awfully hollow and cold sleeping in the bed that doesn’t smell like him at all; so she did what could comfort her best).

She looks so small and frail as if the demons of the lone bedroom swallowed her whole.

Heavy eyebags digging away the glimmer in her eyes, her cheekbones prominent and the pinkness of her eyes visible telling how much she’s been crying.

He turns expressionless on purpose when she meets his gaze and isn’t what she wanted? Some space to figure her thoughts out – but that polite gesture turned into a silent treatment from Harry’s side this time.

She knows that he’s more of a meanie in this game than her because he’s the one that never let things bottle up, his eyes gives away everything but right now they’re just murk of anger.

“Can we talk?” Her voice dim from crying for days and Harry elevates his shoulders carelessly, wrinkles on his forehead and his frown deep as he shrugs, “Dunno. Realized t’pick y'puppet back, your eminence?” His taunt hits her right in chest and she blinks the moisture in her eyes away looking down at her fingers fumbling with the frays of the hem.

He’s cloaked with sadness and dejection from her misbehaviour.

He’s the most petty when she’s the reason of his agony.

“I hate how much I care about, you.” He spats. Knuckles turning white from his grip around the marble counter and Y/N listens —— because good, she should now she’s out of her own bubble.

“How much I’ve told y'that no-one ‘n damn nothin’ could come between us —-" His tone dripping with malevolence and bitterness it tears Y/N up.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Harry!!” She almost shouts. Shaky fingers contemplating to rip at her hair and her tears now shines at her cheeks, Harry elicits a flak taunting chuckle.

“See you’ve never trusted our love. Can y'fo’ once get outta y’head?” His own eyes glossy and his cheeks flushing rosy from the impact.

“You don’t want to bear what comes with lovin' me, don’t want me to cover up tha’ fo' you and you couldn’t spend a single day without doubting us,” He licks the salt away from his lips and his heart pauses a slow beat when Y/N's lips wobbles -- incoherent blabbers slipping past her swollen lips.

“What d'ya want then!?” The loud snap of his abrasive voice hitches her breath and she sobs out sorrowfully, “I just want you.” He sighs in defeat. Not really pondering over the severity and nuance of his words before speaking.

“Falling in love with you was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done in my life.” That was the last blow for Y/N. She gasps out a cry. Pupils bursting wide and her insides falls sick as the itching goosebumps pin-prickles at her skin.

Everything gets struck for a moment. Harry’s expression matches her as he realizes what damage he has caused and to confirm it a blaring thunder roars through the sky.

Y/N gulps the achy feeling in her throat and just nods silently retreating back through the steps that led her to him and he’s rushing behind her in fret only to get the door to be slammed on his face.

He curses himself. Hitting his forehead into the door frame, that was the lowest and most cheapest fucking insult you could’ve managed to throw her way you dick.

“Y/N. I’m —-...fuck.” He knows that a sorry will be too humiliating for the hurt he has caused her.

While, Y/N sits on the floor at the most corner of the room with her knees bunched up to her chest. His hurtful words rings in her skull and she stuffs her face into her elbow sobbing into it watching the bear Harry won for her in a carnival with doleful blurry vision.

Through his whole life the only decision he regrets is loving me – out of every stupid thing he thinks our love is the most stupidest, what if it's the end? How I'll live without him? It’s impossible.

Forgetting hurts the more than grieving and she’d never be able to do that.

Her toes numbs to tingles and she feels herself drowning somewhere into pitch darkness, her heart lurching ruefully at each knock Harry taps on the door and her stomach burns with acidy sting lungs knotting tight making her gasp for oxygen.

Her panic attack crawling up her body in beasty blood curling gashes and she attempts to shout a plead for Harry but white dots appears at the back of her eyelids tripping her into mountain of floor pillows.

It knocks the vase out and it shatters beside her head, “Y/N! Baby!” Harry pounds at the door and when doesn’t hear a response from her side he’s kicking it open harshly.

The lock unhinges as he rushes inside worrisome and his world shatters when he sees his lovie struggling for a breather, her petite body trembling and shaking with each gasp that bolts her throat more and she nearly begs for him to do something.

He’s falling beside her on the floor and embracing her pliant figure in his gentle hold, “’S okay. ‘S okay.” He croaks out wiping his own tears with the sleeve of his hoodie.

He rubs her tummy in soothing circles then trails his clammy palm up her chest and maintains an eye contact with her panicked ones. Her breath shudders when she tries to calm it back and her nails digs into his skin in doing so.

“Doing s'good f'me darling, yeah —-..yeah.” He bobs his head vigorously and assuring-ly stroking his thumb against her soaky cheek tenderly in pacifying motions.

Her breath lulls slowly back into a pattern and she jerks a little while inhaling a nourishing puff, “Take a breath honey, yes princess just like that.” He whispers speckling a tiny kiss to her forehead.

He pushes her up with a firm hand on her hip and into his lap murmuring sweet dottings into her ear, “Squeeze me hand if you could hear me baby.” He just wants to be reassured she’s doing okay –- his face crooked against her pulse point into her throat and she does so giving a weak squish to his fingers.

“Jeez.” He bumps her chin up with his head and touches their temples together – eskimo kissing her nose and her eyelids flutter when he pecks her mouth ever so lightly.

His insides are shaking anxiously from fright and he again hugs her warmly to feel her.

“’M sorry. So sorry lovie' didn’t –-.. didn’t mean to hurt ya, swear moppet was just upset tha’ y’were being so far from me. I love you so much precious ....." He presses his wet lips to the side of her head and buries his nose in her hair -- arms tightening around her waist.

".... and I don’t think lovin' you is stupid. Thinks tha’ ‘s the only best thing I’ve ever done in me life ... could never love anyone like that.” He mumbles cradling her sweaty face into his palms and patches soft kisses all over her face.

She hiccups a whimper. Nose quivering and lip wobbling — letting him kiss her pout and fists the flimsy fabric of his hoodie in her teensy hands compared to him, “’M sorry too. Sorry f'acting childish and not talking to you about it. I’m just scared I’m getting too obsessed with the idea of us and it’ll ruin us pathetically.”

“Wait. Wait woah baby ...” He grabs her gently with shoulders and pulls her back from him, “’S tha’ why you were trying to live off all by yourself?” He asks politely a bit glum she was enduring all of that herself.

When she tries to hide her face out of timidness he hooks his thumb under her chin and highers it up, “Y/N.”

“Thinks you love me so intensely?” She sniffs nodding in agreement and he smiles sweetly.

“Then fuckin' do it silly. Why d'ya think I wouldn’t want that lovlin? I want to be so loved by my sweet baby.” He almost falls back when she slings her arms around the nape of his neck and brings him down for a cuddle.

“I love you so much my Angel.” He murmurs with his face squished into her neck and fills his lungs with her warm vanillay scent.

She rubs her cheek up and down his chest like an affectionate starved puppy then stops where his heart lays under the trap of bones and kisses it three times.

Her love language. When she isn’t able to utter something she’s always appreciating him with loving actions and at the moment she did the same to exchange the sentiment.

Three kisses to heart means, “I love you so much it aches me.” He immediately catches it and pecks her nose.

"I know bub, I know."

#HARRY STYLES ANGST #harry styles angst.#harry styles angsty imagines #harry styles angsty blurb #harry styles imagine #harry styles #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry angst #fluff #harry styles one shots #cute harry #harry styles dirty one shot #harry styles fanfic

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softhuesoflilac · 2 years

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Take My Money! - irl! Quackity x Reader ♤

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genre: fluff, crack? love at first sight, slightly cheesy

summary: you bump into a certain boy at the entrance of a coffee shop :)

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

You were entering the shop way quicker than you should have had, your gaze stuck to your feet as you tried to successfully skip through two stair steps and not fall over, but the rush and the lack of attention ended up in a mess; you flying backwards, a wet and extremely hot sensation soaking your white sweater, eyes widening in confusion while you looked down at the brown-ish stain on the fabric. Gladly you didn't end up on the floor, the fall would have been really painful, but you quickly ignored the quick burn itching in your skin when you noticed the boy in front of you.

He, sadly, had fallen down on his butt, cup lid forcefully open and a growing speckle of coffee on his light blue zip-up.

He almost gave you a glare, but seeing the sparkle of regret in your eyes made him stop in his tracks. He was about to apologize, but you beat him to it in a blink.

"Oh! Sorry! That was so much my fault! Um-here-wait...", you picked at your back pocket for your wallet, your free hand extending towards him to help him get up.

"Here! 10 dollars- I'm really sorry for ruining your zip-up! I should pay attention next time- are you hurt? Did it burn you?"

Quackity was speechless, already on his feet looking at you with an unreadable expression. Well, maybe not unreadable. He felt his cheeks burn, hotter than what the coffee spill had felt.

"...what? No -haha- It's also my fault, I should be asking the same! Are you- are you ok?" He blabbered, dazzled with your kindness and preoccupation for a stranger.

He glanced at your arm again, still outstretched and holding the 10 dollars, making him raise his hands almost in surrender, shaking them rapidly.

"No! Please take this," you stepped a bit closer, placing the money on his palm quite aggressively, which he instinctively grabbed. "Have a great day! I'm sorry again!".

And with that, you turned around on your heels and dashed out in embarrassment, your own face blooming pink. You were supposed to enter the shop and buy a hot drink, but you decided to be a pussy and run away once you bumped into one of the cutest guys you've ever seen not even before entering.

Quackity, on the other hand, stood still on his spot, the money still on his left hand while the half-empty cup rested on his right one, dumbfounded and flustered.

His bubble popped some seconds later, getting out of the way of the fucking exit of the Cafe.

The man stared at the money, then to his cafe, the price tag big enough for him to shriek.

'Fuck the coffee was two dollars! He should probably go after you to return the money".

And he did, not before bumping into your distracted back and flying across the street of course.

#quackity #quackity x y/n #quackity x reader #dsmp fanfic #dsmp quackity #dsmp irl #irl! quackity #reader #gn reader #dsmp #dsmp x reader #dsmp x y/n #dsmp x you #quackity x you #quackity imagines #alex dsmp #alex #reader insert #dsmp reader insert

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unlikelytai · 2 years

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More about the c!Dream takes Michael scenario because I think about it a normal amount, might as well share, this is completely self indulgent, there's barely any thought put behind this

Dream can understand a bit of piglin - he learned through Technoblade - so when Michael tries to call out to Ranboo, "Pa" he just blanks.

Enderboo would blabber about a family sometimes, and Dream remembers it. It's not hard to connect the dots.

He wants to kill Sam. He already resents the creeper deeply for using and abusing of the trust Dream put on him, but Dream has always made sure his allies stay out of the front lines, he makes sure he takes the damage himself. That's why they're kept secret. And he failed to do that to Ranboo, apparently. His chest churns.

He feels agitated and anxious in a way he rarely allows himself to be.

Sam would hunt him. If he had the slightest idea that he minded Michael, Dream doesn't doubt it would become a axe against his throat.

All because of his stupid pettiness. Because he made sure to leave trails, for Sam to know he was the one who stole him. To rub in his face. "I'm free. I found your secrets. I'm not scared of you."

It was too late to come back - and the masked man would rather not risk it, regardless.

If Michael turned out somewhere safe, the Warden would know, for sure, Dream has opted to not harm him.

It's a risk he can't take.

So in the darkness, guiding himself by the moonlight and stars, Dream sneaks away, holding a small child close to his chest, whispering in rough piglin, but soft intention, "Be quiet."

He glances at the rotten speckles of skin and showing bone covering the piglet. He wonders idly if the book that weights on his heart and conscience could do something about it.

#dreblr #michael #this is a mess but i like it #I'm not (physically) well atm so this was a nice comfort ramble #ficlet #writing #a bit of #endersmile

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littlemissnoname13 · 3 years

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I have always known- Part 2 (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Reader)

Summary: What happens when you find Draco Lucius Malfoy standing on a ledge at the Astronomy tower, ready to pitch himself off

Pairing: (Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!reader) HBP era

Warnings: Mentions of suicidal tendencies, self harm, angst, smut

Words: 1500+

A/n: Thank you to everyone who read part one from the bottom of my heart. It means so much to me! <3

If you haven’t already, you can read part one over here.

Draco let the revelations sink their way into his brain as he carefully and meticulously recalled that fateful day at the ledge once more.

He recalled how he’d sat alone, hugging his knees at the tower later that night after you’d convinced him to get down from the ledge.

His shirt sleeve—pushed up as he stared at the nasty looking snake and skull etched into his forearm all the while fighting a strong urge to gnaw at the flesh till the mark came off.

And just when he thought he’d cave into his urges, something fluttering,speckled in black and orange caught Draco’s eyes.

The paleness of the moonbeam made the Monarch butterfly seem almost iridescent and he held his breath watching it land gently on the palm of his hands.

“I should have known.” Draco finally shouted pacing back and forth in the room of requirement as he ran his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Of course it was you—How could I have not realised! I mean who else would even want to turn into a butterfly at will?!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You asked as you walked towards him—completely ignoring the fact that your shirt was still lying somewhere on the floor.

“The fucking butterfly tattoo, the whole the-world-is-full-of-goodness-and-sunshine attitude.” He scoffed. “Coincidence? I think not.”

“Draco—” you attempted to reach for his hand but he instantly pulled it away.

“Only you would be stupid enough to stick around a bloody death eater despite knowing.”

“Please just calm down—” You began reaching for him once again and he winced at your touch like it pained him as you gently grabbed onto his wrist.

“No.” He shook his head as he cut you off hastily. “Listen to me y/n, and listen to me carefully —You need to stay the fuck away from me.”

“Malfoy please. Just hear me out. I’m sorry for sneaking up on you that night. I shouldn’t have.”

You took a few mindful steps towards him.

He looked absolutely furious at first glance with his bloodshot eyes, heavy breathing and slightly flared nostrils. But when you observed him more carefully, you saw the helpless and vulnerable boy from the ledge again. Tucked away somewhere in the depths of this tired and sunken eyes.

Branded at such a young age.

Forced to give up his youth and any shard of innocence he had left inside of him.

While his friends may have been playing quidditch, getting into trouble and stressing out about their homework, here he was stressing out about the god damned cabinet like his life depended on it.

You felt a sharp stab at your heart when you remembered.

His life did depend on it.

“Please y/n. Just go away.” He pleaded with this voice cracking as you slowly wrapped your arms around his stiff torso and placed your head on this chest. “Don't make it harder than it already is.”

Draco was right.

This was wrong on so many levels.

You knew better than to melt into the arms of a death eater.

But you were already too fucking deep in.

You knew exactly what you were in for when you gave him a smile at potions class. You knew how grave the situation really was every time you walked towards the Slytherin common room with your book bag full of food you’d snuck out from the kitchens.

You knew full well that the task given to him was no child’s play.

Even though he’d barely said anything during your nights at the tower, you’d gotten to know him by the way his eyes widened when you kept blabbering about the most mundane details of your day.

You’d learned him and the way his brows furrowed in frustration while he spent hours on end trying to fix the vanishing cabinet. He was completely unaware of the fact that you constantly looked up from your book to steal quick a glance at him.

“Okay. I’ll go away.” You whispered pressing yourself impossibly close to him.

“Good.” He mumbled even though his slender arms found their way around your waist. He rested his chin to the top of your head and the smell of your smell of your shampoo comforted him.

Contradictory words and actions. Nobody did it better than Draco and Y/n.

You held onto the collar of his shirt and pulled him towards you until your lips were pressed against his. As your lips moved against his, you noticed that he had let his arms fall from your waist.

But before the waves of disappointment could hit you, Draco’s right hand made its way towards the base of your neck while he raked his left hand through your hair.

It would be an absolute understatement to say that he kissed you feverishly.

He may have told you to go away and you may have agreed but the way your lips moved together told a different story altogether. The way he lightly bit your bottom lip before hungrily exploring your mouth with his tongue gave everything away.

Draco Lucius Malfoy was a goner.

The passion and aggression in your kisses had you both tugging at each other's clothes- gasping for air.

It wasn't long before you found yourself pressed up against the wall again while your bra quickly got discarded.

“Stunning.” He breathed trying to commit every bit of your exposed skin to his memory.

He wasted little to no time covering the exposed bits of your skin with open-mouthed kisses. The already existing marks on your neck only darkened with each kiss as you let your fingers comb through this hair—gripping. Encouraging him to kiss you harder.

And when he placed his lips over your taut nipple, he had to remind himself to be gentle with you even though It was impossibly hard for him.

That wasn’t the only thing that was impossibly hard.

Especially when you whimpered and moaned his name over and over again.

You gently pushed his shirt back indicating that you wanted it off and while he hesitated for a brief second, the shirt was quickly discarded next to your bra on the floor.

He suckled and caressed your breasts and you dug your nails on his biceps arching your back, desperate for more.

His fingers skillfully touched you in places that made you blush as you kept moaning deliriously.

Over and over again.

Soon enough, you were lying on our back on the floor as he hovered on top of you, propped up against his elbows and you were seconds away from begging him to take you then and there.

“We don't have to do this if you don't want to y/n.” He said softly. His darkened grey eyes went back to their normal color and you could see the sincerity in his eyes while he asked you.

“I want you. Please. I just want you.” You pleaded bucking your hips as you caressed his face in reassurance.

“Fuck” he hissed as he slipped inside of you and you struggled to keep your eyes from rolling to the back of your head when he started to move. Slow and steady at first before he took you harder and faster.

You felt like the last days of summer in Draco’s arms as he took you.

The kind of day he desperately wanted to hold onto before an impending Autumn.

There was a cacophony of sounds in the room of requirement.

The sounds of skin against skin.

Your pants, and moans.

His grunts and curses.

Draco.

Only his name escaped your lips when you fell apart at his mercy. Waves upon waves of pure, unadulterated, leg spasming pleasure as you came.

Y/n.

And only our name rolled out of his tongue when he found his release inside of you. Glistening beads of sweat on his forehead and veins slightly visible on his neck.

When it was over, he conjured up a blanket and wrapped his arms around you, greedily scooping as much of you as he could into his embrace.

You felt his fingertips trace the outline of your butterfly tattoo before he placed his lips over it. Kissing it gently.

The gesture softened you just like you softened him but he wasn’t going to admit that. Not anytime soon anyway.

“Why butterfly y/n?” He whispered tracing shapes onto your bare skin. “Your tattoo, your animagus.”

“Have you ever heard of the butterfly effect Draco?” You asked, pushing his hair away from his eyes as he shook his head.

“They say that when a butterfly flaps its wings in one part of the world, it causes a storm elsewhere.”

He blinked his eyes at you in confusion and you gave him a small smile before placing a tiny kiss at the corner of his lips, continuing.

“Every small change counts Draco, a small change in the present can garner a completely different outcome in the future.”

He stared at you as you shook your head and mumbled “I just like to believe that our actions matter you know. I don’t know. I just—nevermind.”

You soon fell asleep in his sturdy, safe arms as he held onto you tightly staying up all night to savor the moment.

Little did you know, the butterfly effect stuck with him.

It stuck with him through the war and even after the war.

Just like you did.

The girl who kept him alive and kicking.

The girl with her butterfly tattoo.

~~~~~~

And that’s it. I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Tagging those who wanted a part 2: @imbadwithunsernames @dumbassswhore @larywitchlingacademic @lainphotography ❤️

#harry potter #slytherin #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco smut

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