#Third Drabble

[sinsandsweetness]

season 5 scary beard rick getting sweet, hyperfem reader on her knees for him, and her just looking up all sweet and obedient and docile, just about ready to do anything for him I FEEL LIKE ITD DRIVE HIM WILDDDD

“Are you okay?” She whispers as he tugs her behind the barn. Neither of them wanting to attract any attention from the potential threats out in the woods.

“Just need your help with something, princess,” his mouth starts trailing down her neck as he pushes her up against the barn. Rough wood with the threat of a splinter catches on her sweater. It’s stretched out collar falls off her shoulder and grants him even more access to her neck. Nipping lightly at her collarbone.

“With what?”

He doesn’t answer, tilting his head up, he catches her lips and grabs her hand, placing it against the front of his jeans. Tall and hard under the dark denim, she gets the hint almost immediately.

It doesn’t take long before she’s on her knees. So obedient. The very impractical mini skirt she wears is riding up above her hips and the sight of her soft bare skin drives him wild. He’s thankful that her pretty lace panties are only shown to the wood siding of the barn and not the forest behind them. He holds one arm up against the wall for support, doubling as an unintentional shield to their intimate act. His fingers lace with her unruly locks, guiding her close enough to kiss him through his boxers.

“Atta girl,” he says as her fingers trace at his waistband. The site in front of him nearly catches him in a trance. She’s so pretty like this. All wide eyed and willing.

He urges her on, “You know what to do.”

#idk how to feel about the third person vibe #tell me what u think pls #i need validation #rick grimes x female reader #Rick grimes x reader #Rick x reader #rick grimes x y/n #rick grimes x fem!reader #Rick grimes x hyperfeminine reader #Rick daydream #Rick Drabble #Rick imagine #twd fanfiction #Rick grimes smut #twd smut

[faux-ecrivain]

Yan Bully Victim

(Twenty third Official Post)

(Name’s Thomas Road)

(Enjoy this short post!)

(Trigger Warning; Mentions of violence, negligence, masochism and other triggering topics.)

(This might be a bit confusing..)

Yan Bully Victim who’s been ignored all his life, by everyone who should love him.

Yan Bully Victim who has no friends and is basically invisible. No one knows he’s there, even the teachers forget he’s in class.

Yan Bully Victim who can’t handle being alone and irrelevant much longer, whose mind wonders into darkness and he begins to contemplate thoughts that would make any normal person sick.

Yan Bully Victim who almost acts on his thoughts, then you show up and, despite the fact that you’re making him miserable, he feels seen.

Yan Bully Victim who begins to go out of his way to aggravate you, stepping on your toes, bumping into you in the hall and he’s spilt quite a few drinks on you (accidentally he would say).

Yan Bully Victim who begins to enjoy the attention you give him, despite how much pain it causes him and actually seems to encourage your behavior.

Your frown deepens as you listen to Thomas ramble about something stupid, you weren’t listening and, yet, it still made you angry. You lash out and slap him, an action relatively tame considering all else you’ve done. He bites his lip and a low groan rumbles through his chest, he looks at you in a strange way that makes you even angrier. So, you hit him again, this time the slap was a lot harder and caused some bleeding.

Yan Bully Victim who panics if anyone threatens to turn you in, but he also resents the person saying they would do so. After all, no one’s ever cared before, so what changed?

Yan Bully Victim who does whatever he can to prevent you from getting in trouble, he’s not ready to lose you just yet. Sure, you hate him and hurt him, but at least he isn’t being ignored.

And he’ll do whatever it takes to keep your attention on him, regardless of the cost.

(So, this is a short one and it’s certainly not the best. But, hey, it’s a Drabble and it’s the post for today. I hope you enjoyed this and I’ll be happy for any advice you give me!)

#Thomas my oc #My oc Thomas #yandere x reader #Drabble #enjoy this short fanfic! #fanfic #gn reader #not the best #yandere oc #my writing #Twenty third official post #yandere drabble

[kaeichi]

ღ ˚⋅ coffee talk — mikage reo.

mikage reo is not addicted to caffeine.

that's what he keeps telling nagi, anyway. the latter doesn't know why he keeps reiterating that “fact” either—he doesn't even care, nor does he believe him in the first place—but even someone like nagi would suspect something is amiss solely by the way reo keeps coming back to the coffee shop that the heir deemed second-rate not too long ago.

today marks day eleven of visiting said coffee shop in a row; nagi barely steps his foot in, and he already wants to leave.

“welcome, reo! and nagi too!”

that something that nagi suspects comes in the form of a living, breathing person; one that usually takes reo’s order and makes his specialized coffee for him.

(“it tastes different somehow, nagi!” reo had explained to him the other day, justifying his countless visits and spending too much on tips—though for the pro soccer player and CEO of a business corporation, absolutely nothing is too much for him. “you should give it a try. i swear, that barista has magic hands or something. i've had so many macchiatos before, but none of them has tasted so…delectable, so lush, and so—”

“oh, i’m sure.” nagi commented offhandedly, zoning out and hoping this is just another one of reo’s many fleeting interests.)

unfortunately that is not the case this time, especially not with the way reo’s legs immediately go stiff when he advances rather awkwardly over the counter, as if he suddenly forgot how to walk just by the sound of your voice. nagi can tell how you pretend not to notice, a gentle smile on your face beckoning him closer, your eyes as warm as the yellow string lights hung on the walls around the quiet shop and the freshly ground arabica beans that you’ve been brewing in the back.

this is so…yeah, no. nagi should definitely just leave.

“the usual caramel macchiato today? or just a regular latte this time?” your eyes look up from the register when reo doesn't verbally reply, peering at him through your lashes, and he wants to smack himself for accidentally being entranced by your lips moving and taking too long to answer. he can already hear nagi’s voice taunting him: get a grip already, reo.

“yes, please.”

“…sorry, which one?”

he takes a second to breath. he has to, or else he'll end up making an even bigger fool of himself. “uh, i'll just get a latte. since i already had one this morning.”

you then focus your full attention to him, a teasing look evident in your gaze. “you should really tone down the caffeine intake, reo. i can't imagine how that'd be healthy for you.”

“haha, consider it as a compliment to your coffee-making skills.”

there is an actual growing concern that you have for him, since he has been showing up for the past eleven days and getting macchiatos or lattes; at times even twice a day, so your mild unease is valid. there is also that possibility that he's been getting those for someone else, but you discard that thought when you see him stay in the shop sometimes, leisurely drinking from his steaming mug as he types away on his laptop on nights that he's not overly busy.

nonetheless, he remains your favorite customer, and it's not just because of his generous tips and all. you do wonder what he does for a living; would it be rude to ask? though, you suppose you can reserve that question when you start to get to know him personally on some other occasion.

wait, get to know him personally? you glance towards the elegantly dressed male once again once you're done pouring the scalding liquid onto the disposable cup, taking in his lavish appearance and slicked back violet hair—you can't help but think he may be out of your league.

but something tells you that you shouldn't be afraid, not with the hint of pink dusting his cheeks and the earnest, tender smile that always adorns his face whenever he talks to you.

“my shift is ending in five minutes. if you wanna wait, then maybe we can head out together…?”

you're relieved to have taken the chance, because the purple-haired male suddenly jolts, “y-yeah, of course! let me just tell–” when reo turns around to see that his companion is nowhere to be found, he sighs. “…nevermind.”

he hears you stifle a giggle, a sweet melody falling in his ears, and he's so glad he found the time to squeeze in this quick trip tonight despite his hectic schedule. when you hand him his latte, the corners of his mouth inadvertently lifts up as he sees your handwriting on the cup in black ink:

Reo ღ ◡̈

a few minutes later, after you have changed out of your black apron and gathered your stuff, reo walks out of the coffee shop with you, the chilly autumn air breezing past his skin.

his eyes flit downward when you rub your hands in an attempt to heat them up.

it's cold tonight, coldest it has been in a week, yet reo feels warm all of a sudden, even though he barely had a sip from his drink. he wipes his free hand on his slacks, a build up of sweat coating his palm. he regrets not taking his blazer off in his car, because it now feels uncomfortably tight around him, and since when did it get so hot—

“you okay, reo?” you cast him a side glance over the shoulder, eyes raking over his restless form, “you're so fidgety.”

“sorry, yeah. it's just the coffee.”

you give a pointed look, wordlessly reminding him again that maybe he should dial it down or some. it's fine, he's not addicted to caffeine, to something else maybe, but not caffeine. reo’s gaze drifts downwards again, glancing at your empty palm again, and… oh.

that must've been why his fingers kept twitching. for now, he refrains from reaching out, hopeful that this wouldn't be his last encounter with you, and that he'll eventually find the courage someday.

slicked back hair reo.... reo i need u so bad ples

#ik theres alot of coffee shop AUs but u can never go wrong w one #this was js supposed to be a short drabble how did it end up with 1k words #pushing my third wheeler nagi agenda #hes so sick of them #blue lock x reader #mikage reo x reader #reo mikage x reader #blue lock imagines #reo mikage #mikage reo #mikage reo fluff #reo mikage fluff #reo mikage x you #mikage reo x y/n #mikage reo x you

[heich0e]

“i’m in love with you, you know.”

you don’t know that, actually. and neither does your heart, judging by the way it races to life under the arching cover of your ribs—hopeful and delighted and petrified all at once, you can feel the frenetic th-thump-th-thump-th-thump beating in your suddenly too-tight throat.

even in spite of the riot raging through your veins, you stay deceptively still as you lie next to suna, bundled under your blankets that have started to smell like him because of how often he’s been staying over lately. wrapped in his hoodie because you stole it off the floor when you shuffled into the bathroom to brush your teeth and get ready for bed. with his teethmarks pressed into your still-tender skin from all the things he’d done to you before the two of you had curled up to go to sleep.

and now too much time has passed since suna spoke those ill-begotten words, but you haven’t offered anything up in response.

you could pretend to be asleep, you consider fleetingly, but you’re sure he knows the truth. you’re certain that he can tell your eyes are wide, in wakefulness as much as in shock, just like you can tell he’s staring at you even though you have your back to him. you feel the weight of his gaze as surely as every shaking inhale strains your aching lungs.

suddenly, you feel his fingers dance along the nape of your neck. they slip under the rucked up fabric of his sweatshirt's hood as his fingertips brush your skin in a ploy for your attention. goosebumps prickle in his wake. you wonder if he notices.

“stop,” you complain, lifting your shoulders up to your ears on instinct to shield your neck from his touch. it’s as much a reply to his graze at it is to his startling admission. 

“i can’t,” rintarou replies, inching forward to press himself closer to your back. he nuzzles his nose into your hair, and you hear him swallow thickly. his next words are barely above a whisper. “hey, can you like.... say something? you're kinda killing me here.”

it’s unfair that he would wager that accusation against you when you feel the exact same way.

but you don’t know what to say, what to trust, what to believe. you don’t know anything beyond your thundering pulse and the feeling of rintarou’s warm breath fanning against your ear, scorching even in its tepidity.

your face feels flushed and your head is spinning; that violently beating heart of yours has sent too much blood rushing far too quickly to your head. you hardly feel capable of stringing two words together coherently, let alone formulating a response that a confession like his might deserve were it truthful.

“don’t say things you don’t mean to me, rin,” your voice is meek when you finally manage to articulate your thoughts, and your tone is wary. “please.”

rintarou wraps his arms around you, pulls you into him until the only thing between you is the material of your (his) hoodie and the rapidly crumbling barrier of your resolve.

“but i mean it.”

his lips are right by your ear, his words spoken so closely that you know for all the people in the world they’re only meant for you. your heartbeat is so reverberant you feel it thrumming down your spine.

wait.

you press yourself back into suna’s hold. impossibly close. 

th-thump…th-thump…th-thump.

and then you realize what you’re feeling isn’t your heartbeat.

it’s his.

#suna x reader #suna x you #suna rintarou x you #suna rintarou x reader #suna rintarou #hq drabble #hq writing #writing #not back - not NOT back - but a secret THIRD thing (clearing out my drafts)

[yuu-kumeii]

It's always your husband who's the one not wanting to let you go, but what about you not wanting to let him go? Because we can all agree that your husband isn't the only one capable of being cute and clingy.

Why is it always him who gets to be called cute for missing you when it's you who calls him every moment you get, using the excuse of wanting to ask how he's doing when that's the only excuse you ever bothered to come up with?

How is it never mentioned that when you —who's tired from work— come home unable to take a nap, linger around your husband whether it be sitting on the couch together or laying in bed? No one ever knows about the times where you end up falling asleep on his arm, finally able to rest your eyes after being kept awake by your running mind. Refusing to compromise in any way which ends up with your husband being trapped, any attempt he makes to get up is met with your smaller figure wrapped around his torso. Moving your body on top of him to keep him pinned down —even though both you and him know that he could just get up even with you clinging to him but it's the thought that counts—, eyes still closed yet body working tirelessly to keep your personal arm pillow in place. Eventually getting your husband to succumb to his fate and fall asleep with you.

Can't you get a little credit for also being the loving one?

HINATA <3, ATSUMU, OSAMU <333, Kuroo, Kageyama, Ushijima, Sakusa, Iwaizumi <33, Honestly the husband in this is so vague he might as well be all hq men

#「★ It's showtime! ★」 #haikyuu fluff #haikyu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #haikyu x female reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #hinata fluff #hinata x reader #kuroo fluff #kuroo tetsuro x reader #ushijima x reader #ushijima fluff #osamu fluff #osamu x reader #iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x reader #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #I don't like how the third paragraph ended up :( #But I feel bad for not posting in a while #Maybe I'll redo it someday?

[chlerc]

last night ; charles leclerc

— summary; in which he shows up right at her doorstep although he swore that he wouldn’t come back here again, and there he was yearning for the comfort of her arms.

pairing — charles leclerc x f. reader ( third person story )

word count — 796.

content — friends with benefits but charles broke it off between them, he said he wouldn’t return yet he was back there asking for a forever.

NAVIGATION + author’s note: first drabble and i have no idea how to end it off so please bear with the ending 🙏🏻

THE LAST TIME HE said it was over and he wasn’t coming back was a weekend ago. Yet, here he stood in front of her with his gray hoodie and black sweatpants. The hood of his hoodie hides the way his face usually glows in the bright moonlight, illuminating the perfect facial features he had.

“What are you doing here at half past 3 in the morning? And you shouldn’t be seen here at my doorstep, you’d be on the front page of every sports gossip page tomorrow!” Her voice comes off as a whisper, her eyes droopy as she rubs at it.

His cherry red lips clash against her luscious ones, savoring the slightest taste of her chapstick present. Charles pulls her by her waist, closer to his chest than it already was before. The pieces of her heart that had been struggling to fit into the world became so quiet when in his embrace ; it was as if they had found peace, as if they needed his glue to bridge their gaps and connect.

She pulls away, tugging at his sleeves for him to enter, just in case anyone actually followed him here. Everything was a contract, or a relationship in summary, friends with benefits. One gets needy, they have fun, and they leave but come running back again. He was different, the one that sticks out like a sore thumb from others. Charles would stay till the next morning and she’d be woken up to the fragrant smell of pancakes drizzled with maple syrup and coffee.

They’ve been friends since too long, she was his source of comfort when he came running to her with his arms wide open for comfort and anger from a fucked up race weekend. Neediness got the better of him every night he had landed back in Monaco, leading to many other nights before this and the pair of best friends agreed to be solely friends with benefits.

“You can’t just show up here like nothing happened, like whatever you said last week didn’t matter and then proceed to kiss me, Charles.” He leaned against the door, hands tucked in the pockets of his sweatpants and his expression made it hard for her to read him. “One last time please, I had a bad weekend and I just need one more night with you.” She knew she would agree to whatever he said, zero doubts and hesitation. He was her weakness.

Her heart felt fireworks in them whenever he was near her, yearning to be released from the rib cage. Her heartbeat keeps a steady rhythm until the thought of Charles running to her apartment after a horrible weekend, then its tempo raises into a new genre all together. Butterflies occupied her stomach at the slightest thought of him, burning pink cheeks whenever she welcomed him. She was in love, and she knows she shouldn’t be, after all they were just friends with benefits, before he broke it off.

He had a way to her heart, like a key unlocking a lock and before she knew it, she was nodding at his request. Horrible weekend? As if she hadn’t been awake, watching him take pole position and race winner for the weekend. “Horrible weekend but you won the race and clinched pole position, Charles. What are you talking about?” She watches as he takes a step forward, embracing her in his arms.

“Horrible weekend because I knew you weren’t at home waiting for me to celebrate with you. I know I said last weekend was the last time I’d be here, and honestly? I don’t know what I’m doing here, I just know that I want to be in your arms tonight.”

His words tugged at the strings of her heart, looking into his eyes, the window of a soul. He was handsome from the depth of his eyes to the gentle expressions of his voice. He was handsome from his generous opinions to the touch of his hand upon her own. She loved the way his voice quickened when he sparkled with a new idea, or was so enjoying one of hers that he lost himself for a moment and quite forgot the mask he wore for others.

Charles brings his hand up to her cheeks at her silence, stroking them with his fingers as he gazes into her eyes. His eyes steady on her as they were filled with nothing but a longing desire. He had told himself it’d be the last time he would show up here, yet there he was in the comfort of her arms.

“Mia cara, nothing matters more than you. I want to keep coming back here to you after every race weekend. Would you let me do that?”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles #leclerc #f1 #f1 x you #charles leclerc x reader #fluff #third person #ferrari #f1 ferrari #charles leclerc fanfic #fanfiction #charles leclerc fanfiction #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc drabble #cl16 #cl16 x reader #cl16 imagine #chlerc

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The castle’s ramparts formed a cold line against the fiery sky. The sun rose on blood-slicked walls and fields muddled with death.

A girl stood at the great doors, mouth set hard against the early winter cold, her dress streaked with soot and golden rays of sunlight. She raised her hand, curled her battered fingers into the red on her palms, and knocked.

Tap, tap, tap

The knight in charge of opening the doors covered his mouth to catch the sob. He slumped against the cold stone and did not reach for the pulley system that could heave the giant wood doors open. “Please, go back. Go back, your highness.”

“That’s hardly fair,” the girl said. She shielded her eyes against the sun and looked over the battlefield. There were not many who were able to return her gaze and those that could didn’t. “I won.”

The knight shook so hard that his armor clattered together at the joints. When the king agreed to let the throne go to the victor of the coup, no one expected this. Neither the Crown Prince nor the young Duke returned from battle.

Only the Princess.

“The people will rejoice,” the princess said. A girl of only sixteen summers and her voice was as smooth as the most seasoned negotiator. “The kind princess who gave so generously to the orphanage ended the battle before it spread to the country. She did it for the people. Isn’t it right she rule now?”

“I s-saw you,” the knight stuttered. He was keeping watch in the ramparts at midnight when the moon hung full overhead. He saw the princess jump over the wall. He saw what she changed into. “Y-you’re not the princess.”

There was a long pause. “Ah.” The princess sighed. “You’ve only made this harder for yourself, you realize? The result remains the same. I will be queen.”

The knight felt all his breath flee from his lungs as shadows writhed underneath the door. No. He drew breath to scream, but it was too late. The shadows crawled over his face.

The last thing he heard was a familiar groan as the castle doors opened.

#drabble #still practicing third person past #I love eldritch abomination princesses #my writing #nanowrimo

[catharusustulatus]

Unbelievably uncoordinated (besides playing soccer and running for her life) Robin was actually great at skipping rocks. Even better at finding the best ones to skip. She knew just how to spot and hold the good stones, where to place them in her palm. How to flick her wrist, how to be fast.

She started inviting Steve to her favorite side of the lake after they’d settled they were more than workplace/survived-torture-and-monsters-together friends, late August heat plastering her bangs and painting Steve pink. He always seemed to glow in the sun, the same sparkle she knew drew everyone to him in school.

Steve was still recovering from Starcourt - they both were - and his chest would tighten up after bending down, still bruised and sore, so he would mostly drive them there and soak it all in; her chatter as she searched for the right rock, jokes about Mrs. Click and Tammy, her nightmares about the guards and the laser beam and the dripping flesh beast they’d barely escaped. He chimed in from time to time, adding how Tammy’s cousin Maryanne was a bad kisser, told her about the time Mrs. Davis wouldn’t let him into class when he was late, late because Tommy and Carol had had a fight and almost burned his house down the night before. But he mostly listened, striped shirt riding up his mole-covered belly, and smiled at her as she skipped stones hour after hour.

Arm tired, they’d get milkshakes and he’d drop her off. Waving goodbye to Steve, she always thought the same things: that she was lucky to be alive. That it felt good to ripple some surface of this godforsaken place, especially with a friend. That she really did know how to pick ‘em.

#stranger things #steve harrington #robin buckley #stobin #platonic stobin #stobin fic #stobin drabble #they are my two best friends #I rotate them in the microwave of my mind #two homies and I’m their third #sorry duffer bros they belong to moi

[macaqueconfession]

What if the mc overblots & how.

Ok what if the mc is like a sponge and absorbs the blot magic every time their exposed to it. Like in ch1 when riddle used his unique magic on every one and the mc just absorbed a little magic. It increases as time goes on, and depending on how ch7 ends they just brake.

They can't stand the thought of leaving and running the risk that could forget all about twisted wonderland and all their friends and the adventures they had(they might think it was a dream) they can't leave them. And at first it starts off like an emotional scene where their talking to the people who they spend most of their time with in twst, and then chaos hits the fan. The mc overblots whether it some body horror/a semi regular overblot, the dorm leaders and dorm mates rally together to bring back the mc to their senses and help them like they helped them.

If the game continues after ch7 which I think it will hopefully, they can send the mc home but have it so that they either visit or view the twst boys throw a mirror or something.

#disney twisted wonderland #twst #twst x reader #yuu overblot #twst dorm leaders #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland yuu #twst angst #twst first years #twst drabble #twst imagines #twst second years #twst third years #twst thoughts

[amusingmusie]

The Demon! Nel asks have my brain exploding with cheesy ideas, I swear. She'd make fun of his hair cut, and he'd spend an inordinate amount of time making his little shadow trip her every time she walks down stairs.

She'd have his demonic brain so divided that he'd probably phase himself across hell just because she was talking to someone other than him. Alastor being very "I'm uncomfortable when you're not about me" with Nel is my favorite!

My silly little idea:

"What are you doing here." Her voice dripping with annoyance as the sinner she had been discussing the acid rain forecast with launched away from them in a desperate attempt to flee from swirling mass of black and green that just manifested itself behind her.

"Oh, what a surprise! I didn't see you there, my sweetest of evils. I have some business in this part of Hell and really, I can't be late. And now you're in my way, you do so enjoy being a huge inconvenience!" (There's no reason for him to be there. He just literally yeeted himself so hard and fast across the map to interrupt their conversation. He'd be panting if he wasn't gritting his teeth together so hard.)

For you, anon :))

THIS IS FOR FUN ONLY AND NOT CANON TO YOURS TRULY

Five O'clock Somewhere (But Not Here)

Nel heads to the bar to get a damn drink, grumpy as ever and in desperate need of cheap booze. It won't get her drunk, but it will allow her a reprieve from Alastor's insidious presence that seems to trail her wherever she goes in this shitty building. The Hazbin Hotel is a fitting name for such a rundown crapshack, though she feels that the Shithole Inn would work just as well.

The second she crosses from red carpet to green floorboards she can taste newfound freedom- until there's a hum of radio static that pitches in her ears, causing her to hiss and scowl as a familiar shadow materializes right inside of her personal bubble.

Alastor pops into existence practically on top of her, eternal yellow grin widening as his crimson eyes crinkle in pure malicious delight.

“Sweetheart! There you are. I noticed a lack of your terrible black cloud tainting my radio tower and just had to find you- I can’t have you running off on me.” A clawed finger reaches out to bop her nose, but she dodges out of the way with a growl. “I see you’ve decided to curse the parlor with your dreary disposition instead. How delightfully horrific!”

“The only curse here is you.”

There’s a loud incorrect buzzer that sounds from his staff. “Wrong, I am the host of the hotel! So close.”

“Host, pest, plague, same difference to me,” Nel snaps before attempting to brush past him. “Move your boney ass, I’m getting a drink.”

“This early in the day?” Alastor steps right back in front of her to block her from escaping. “Why, it’s hardly past noon.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere.”

“Well, if you’re so insistent that it’s a drink you’re after, I’ll prepare it for you.”

“Jesus, the fucking bar cat is right there!”

Said bar cat flips her the bird as he downs his fifth whiskey of the hour. As much as it stings her pride, Nel attempts to smooth things over by awkwardly quirking up the side of her lips in a strained smile- she needs an ally here.

Husk blinks one droopy eye at a time, decides this shit isn't worth it, then grabs his precious bottle and shuffles away from the bar out of the lobby.

Well. Shit.

The radio asshole laughs down at her, “Scotch on the rocks, dear?”

“I’d prefer a lobotomy.”

Using his microphone to herd her towards a worn bar stool, he hardly bats an eye as she tries to snatch it out of his hands. “Perhaps over dinner this evening, if you’re a well behaved little harpy."

Nel refuses to reply; she groans and lays her head down onto the sticky bartop, gluing her bangs to the sugar-stained wood.

Eternity has never seemed so fucking long.

#my asks #the pookies #first time posting demon Al #first time posting Husk too #and in third person #a drabble! #demon Nel

[cthulhusstepmom]

Fae!Soap Superstitious Bastard! Ghost: Gifts

(Just a heads up this got way more intense than I meant it to but that’s kind of the Fae for you.)

TW: mentions of torture, human remains

Soap is a collector, though not of any one thing that Ghost can discern. He’s seen the man pick up anything from an abandoned rolex to a nondescript piece of broken glass. It doesn’t seem to be about size, it’s not shape and definitely not value; Ghost had thought he’d pinned it down as things that caught the light a certain way but was swiftly proven wrong when Soap went on a spree of collecting pebbles and sticks. He’d glared sullenly at the first jagged gray rock when Soap had picked it up before swiftly changing the subject when he was noticed. There was no apparent rhyme or reason to any of it… well not quite. There was one singular pattern that stood out in his mind, a single thread that held firm no matter how much he rearranged or plucked at it.

 Anything that Ghost gave him, Johnny kept. 

The first had been a bit of pretty blue ribbon that was a close enough approximation to Soap’s eyes. It’d snagged on a bramble bordering the clearing where Ghost had set up for overwatch. Without even thinking he’d snagged it on his way to RV down the hill, offering it to Johnny in the armored car taking them back to base. Soap hadn’t said a thing. It was then that Ghost realized maybe giving your subordinate a piece of trash you’d found in a bush perhaps wasn’t the most well adjusted way to express affection. He’d been about to play it off with a quip, beginning to retract his fingers ever so slightly, when Johnny snatched it lightning quick from the palm of his hand, holding it close to his chest for a moment before stuffing it into his chest pocket next to his journal. Soap had given him a small strangled “Thank you” as they sat the rest of the ride in an awkward but warm silence. Johnny disappeared almost immediately after they got back to base but Ghost could see light in the space under his door so he wasn’t too worried that he’d done permanent damage to their relationship.

After that his eyes just seemed to catch on things that he assumed Johnny would like. He couldn’t help it. Little glass marbles, a river stone with an interesting marking, a large brown feather; Somehow it all made its way into the hands of his Sergeant. Usually with a gruff “Here”, barely waiting for Johnny to hold out his hands before he dropped his small offering into his gloved palms. Soap has also gotten over whatever his episode of silence had been, responding with a blinding smile and enthusiastic gratitude and a happy quip. (“Thanks Lt!” a piece of antler, Montana “Y’ shouldn’t have!” an old toy car, Finland “Find this on sale?” a scrap of pink fabric, Brazil “Ghost you’re spoiling me.” green river stone, India etc.(no he didn’t catalog all of them that would be creepy. He only wrote down his favorites.))

The next time Ghost thinks he’s permanently damaged their relationship and scared Soap off for good comes after an operation sweeping out an AQ base in Afghanistan. 

It’s stuffy and dark, the blistering heat of the day beginning to fade into the bitter chill of the night. The compound has long since been abandoned by all but the stubbornest of rats, slowly being reclaimed by the wild desert it carved its blackness into. They roll into the courtyard through the open front gate, the outer walls have seen multiple breacher charges and calling them walls at this point is more out of respect than any dedication to accuracy. The whole place has already been swept by drone and Laswell has had satellite eyes on it for months confirming just how fucking dead it is. They’re here for information, the drone identified documents left behind as well as at least two hard drives. 

The 141 has split off, each clearing their own section and radioing in at even intervals, they’ve learned the hard way that it’s better to be safe than sorry. Beyond extra caution, the whole place has an eerie, black aura that drags forth memories of scorpion stings and dull knives biting at his flesh. Assisting in his nightmarish stroll down memory lane, Ghost is assigned the lower levels of the compound. Each room is another scene from a past he tries to forget, filled with rusted over implements of pain and brown stains no one cared to clean. 

Something in the last room makes him pause. 

A small barred window allows light from a waning moon to pool into the room, catching on something on the table. Small, most no bigger than his fingernail, a collection of about five objects sits in a tray on the corner of the table. Brilliant white patches shine in stark opposition to the bed of rust brown they lay on. 

Teeth. Human teeth.

His mind is acting on autopilot when grabs them and stuffs them in a pocket, so similar but so different to his first experience with the ribbon months ago. He finishes his sweep of the room, conveying his findings back on comms (“Seems like we’re late for the party.” “If only you didn’t take so long to get ready.”-Soap “Shut the fuck up the both of you I just saw a rat the size of a terrier.”-Gaz “I’ve got the hard drives if any of you fuckers remember why we’re here.”-Price), and turns back to rendezvous, his mind now firmly on finding his comrades and getting the hell out.

As they start readying themselves to duck into the humvees they arrived in, Ghost’s muscle memory kicks in to complete his self assigned mission objective. He turns to where Soap stands almost expectantly at his side. It’s not every mission that he has something he’s decided is a worthy offering but it has become more often than not. Mind already halfway back to base, a gloved hand chases down each tooth where they’ve burrowed themselves in the pocket of his tac vest, collecting them and dropping them in Soap’s proffered hand with a grunt. His brain turns back on when the bloody bones hit his Sergeant’s glove, panicking because what the fuck did he just do? What kind of fucking sociopath gives his friend(more?) human fucking teeth as a souvenir. Much less human fucking teeth that were pulled forcibly out of some poor bastard’s skull during a bygone torture session. 

His hand is trembling. 

Ghost forces himself to look down and meet Soap’s assuredly outraged and disgusted gaze. 

Only he doesn’t.

Johnny is staring down at the teeth in his palm with a look of fucking reverence. His pupils are dilated beyond just the darkness surrounding them and Ghost’s detail oriented eyes catch the slight flare of his nostrils on every inhale. Soap slowly tilts his head up to meet Ghost’s eyes and a gasp lives and dies in his throat.

“Oh Simon, you treat me so well.” His voice is gravelly and thrumming with an emotion that Ghost doesn’t know the name of. But, god if this is the look he gets after bringing Johnny desiccated human remains?

He’ll rip the teeth out of some unworthy son of a bitch himself.

#Soap may be the one who is inherently Other but Ghost is fucked up too #I adore deeeply fucked up Ghost™ #almost as much as soft Ghost #Soap is one lucky man #he's just sitting here happily obsessed with his human and then Ghost just up and gives him a courting gift #in folklore giving fairies gifts is a 50/50 chance to get them to go away #i however would like to introduce you to a secret third option: love #Also I'm like 60% certain I'm going to do sort of a mix of snippets here leading up to like a three shot culmination posted on Ao3 #would yall like that? would you prefer all on tumblr? do you even want story or just more little drabbles? #Fae!Soap #superstitious bastard!Ghost #cod mw2 #soapghost #tw torture #tw human dentition

[palossssssand]

Reconciliation

Old dome squadmates Trito and Kinoga get together at Trito’s place to catch up after years apart and a meeting by chance on the surface.

⚠️Warning for suggestive content below + implied chest trauma

After several weeks of chipping away at this, the comic is finally done! Very happy to have rendered a full 7 pages of oc stuff. Please give it a read!!

read the full 7 page comic on twitter! <-please do not click if you are a minor and view at your own discretion, this link contains explicit 18+ content. Thank you!

For the lore, includes stuff from splatoon Octo Expansion: Trito and Kinoga were a part of an octarian military squad living in the domes, Kinoga being their squad leader that many looked up to and admired. There were 6 of them who considered each other to be their closest friends. Upon hearing about the tests from Kamabo Co. and the allure of the Promised Land, Kinoga wished to seek it out in order to find a better life for their squadmates. A difficult decision, since it meant leaving them all behind, promising to come back and take them there.

Kinoga enters the metro trials and soon realizes that the Promised Land isn’t what they expected, their hope crumbling when they encounter one of their sanitized squadmates Agara, who followed suit to the metros soon after. Kinoga narrowly escapes, eventually making a break for the surface, carrying the shame of unwilling to return for their squadmates with them (it’s justified, of course, there might not be an easy way in, they might get caught again, Agara is gone)

Trito enters the Metro not too long after Kinoga does, wanting to catch up to them, and an accident that occurs in a test early on results in Trito’s near sanitization, giving him his scar. Terrified, and realizing what happens to his fellow octolings, Trito is unable to return to his squadmates, not wanting to break the news of their loved ones’ untimely fates. He hides away on the Metro until the events of OE happen and Agent 8 dismantles Kamabo, opening an opportunity to escape to the surface. Unwilling to face the possibilities of going back, Trito takes his chance to leave, starting a new life and feeling that it’s for the best if he doesn’t acknowledge it, though he missed his friends dearly.

Years later, Trito and Kinoga run into each other on the streets of Splatsville by chance, and the implications of them both being on the surface and alive hit them, having to carry the burden of leaving their loved ones behind and finding out the truth, knowing the other felt exactly the same, not knowing the fate of their squadmates and not wanting to think about the possibility of them being gone. They have a tearful reunion about it, and set up a meet later, to sit down and really talk, and get into a brief argument when the topic of returning to the domes comes up. Trito’s in disbelief that Kinoga never went back down to check on the rest of their squad, wanting them to have been a better person than him, who was too cowardly to do so. Eventually they do reconcile, and end up at Trito’s place to hook up, where the above comic takes place :]

#my art #my ocs #splatoon #suggestive #trito #kinoga #aaahhhhhh this is finally done!!!! #a small drabble turned into a sketch turned into a full fledged rendered comic. blowing up #in any case I hope people enjoy this as much as I do…they are so everything to me #splatoon ocs #I have so many thoughts about these two that I could not articulate in a tumblr post. they miss each other so so much #its about the. I’ve known your body. and coming back after years and going oh…this is new… #there’s no context where trito would be able to reveal this to kinoga except for boning #only kinoga could look at it and immediately understand. sparing him the pain of explaining what happened and reliving it #if it had been anyone else he probably would have stopped them the moment the hand went under the sweater #but he’s just so so caught in the moment of the reunion. and the everything . Auughhhh #stealing this from a friend but theyve changed and they haven’t changed at all. I’m going to be ill #chest trauma #‘what if they explored each others bodies’ or whatever. okay #if it wasnt clear enough or implied trito and kimoga are octolings from the underground domes #nsft #oh and the. really long lore explanation <33 teehee #they are so so much #not partners but more than friends. secret third thing. guh #its about holding each other so tightly and physically for confirmation that they weren’t seeing things and that the other was Really There #like the fate of their friends not on their mind constantly and then it all comes flooding back and all of a sudden it opens the door #for finding the others and now they won’t have to go back and face the possibility alone #IM GOING TO BE SICK!!!!!!!!!!!! #this has got to be the most ive rambled in the tags I’ve just been rotatinf them with fado for the past barely a month and they are #tritonoga

[supermarine-silvally]

Reposting an updated version of this for the new blog!

- - -

“Well, well, if it isn’t the brand new number two hero.” Your tone is light and teasing as you approach him from behind, resting a hand on his back. “Congrats. You earned it.”

Bakugou lets out a quiet snort, keeping his crimson gaze focused on the cars that pass by on the busy street below the balcony. “Still not number one.”

“Not yet, maybe, but you’ll get there in time.” You move your hand and come to stand beside him, your elbow propped on the railing as your cheek rests on your palm. “You’re missing the party, y’know.”

“I fuckin’ hate parties.”

“Even when they’re for you?”

“Specially when they’re for me.” His eyes narrow as he watches a sleek red sports car accelerate past a yellow light, its tires screeching loudly against the pavement. “Bein’ the number two hero... ‘S not about fancy shit. It’s about savin’ more lives. Protectin’ more people. Stoppin’ more villains. Not somethin’ that can be taken so lightly.”

“Katsuki. This burden isn’t one you have to bear alone.” Knowing him as well as you do, you keep your voice gentle, yet firm. “No matter where you are in the charts, we’re all still behind you. You’ve got Deku, Red Riot, Chargebolt, Pinky, Cellophane... and you’ve got me.” The tips of your fingers brush over his as you move closer, pressing the heat your body against his as a physical reminder of that fact. “...You’ve got us.”

He’s quiet for a minute before nodding, sliding his fingers so they’re twined with yours. “Us,” he agrees, as if suddenly the weight of the entire world doesn’t feel quite so heavy anymore, for as long as you have each other.

#bnha x reader #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bnha fluff #bakugou fluff #short drabble #my writing #I really like this piece so I’m reposting it #I don’t write x reader very often but it’s fun! #maybe I’ll even take requests someday idk #the original piece was in third person but I changed it to make it more gender neutral

[drivinmeinsane]

COLT SEAVERS {Scene Partner}

{ drabble } ※ { masterlist }

※ Pairing: Colt Seavers x GN!Reader

※ Summary: The stunt guy gets recruited to stand in for your scene partner during a sex scene for a highly anticipated blockbuster.

※ Rating: 18+ for highly suggestive content (simulated sex)

※ Word count: 1,157

“If I’m not going to be the main focus of the lens, then forget it! I spent too long in the gym to get sidelined like this.”

You’re leaning against a headboard on the movie set watching as your co-star throws another tantrum. This is just another one of the many that he’s had over the course of filming. It’s been a rough two months and you’re already behind schedule as it is due to his theatrics. You groan and sag against the mattress. You hadn’t even particularly wanted to do the scene with him, but at this point you would gladly let him flex and posture all over you just to get it done so everyone could move forward.

The director desperately tries to talk him down, but he keeps shouting at her. Finally, he throws his hands up and loudly announces that he is not getting in bed shirtless with you because it won’t be a glamorous sex scene. He actually walks off set entirely.  There are a few tensely quiet moments while his agent chases him down and tries to beg the actor to set aside his arrogance and come back on set. The moment the agent returns empty handed with a defeated shake of his head, chaos erupts around you. 

They scramble to find a solution. Two of the crew are sent to find another blond man who could plausibly stand in as a body double for the scene. While they are away, the director and the writer desperately think if there is any possible reworking they can do for the script. Can they make this a solo scene? Edit your partner in later? And on and on they go.

The crew members come back shortly and they’re not alone. With them is a blond man, taller and broader than your co-star. He introduces himself as Colt from the stunt department. He’s distractedly handsome in a rugged sort of way. The stuntman is nothing but polite when he shakes your hand and greets you personally. His eyes crinkle when he smiles at you. You instantly agree to work with him.

The two of you get into position after he’s been prepped by the intimacy coordinator and had a brief explanation of the scene’s requirements. Your hands are on his waist, resting on the leather of his belt. He, for his part, has his fingers pressing into the arc of your spine, coaxing you towards his body with the lightest of touches. He looks almost shy. His hair is falling into his eyes in a way that makes you want to brush it back for him.

“Be gentle. It’s my first time,” he jokes.

You don’t have time to laugh before the scene director is calling quiet on set. You wipe the smile off your face and relax. Colt sobers up as well, looking deadly serious, like he is about to do something life threatening.

“Action!” The clapperboard snaps closed.

The scene starts with the two of you all but lunging towards each other. You meet in a kiss and your scene partner’s beard is rough against your face. His mouth is soft, he’s kissing you like he means it. Your hands clench on his waist and he moves things right along. The stuntman walks you back into the door that is pivotal for the scene. He kicks it open, hard, too hard. It slams into the wall with enough force to knock a hole into the plaster. You gasp into his mouth. A quiet groan answers it. 

Once in the room, you break the kiss and start fighting to get his shirt off. His hands meet yours and you’re working together to pull it over his head. The minute the garment is off and tossed aside, Colt is crowding against you, catching your mouth in another kiss while your hands splay across his chest. They're going to have to edit out his piercings, you realize faintly. If you were touching him under different circumstances, you would explore him in earnest. Learn everything there is to know about his body.

The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, and your mind short circuits when Colt wraps his hands around your waist and tosses you back onto the mattress like you weigh nothing. That had not been in the script. You’re not sure if you’re breathless from the impact or because he is suddenly crawling onto the bed after you. Your legs fall open automatically at the sight of him. For the scene, you’re wearing  modesty undergarments and an oversized shirt that suggests that it’s actually the only thing you have on. 

He slots himself easily between your spread legs and braces himself over you. He rests his forehead against yours and rolls his hips. The pressure is barely there from all the intimacy padding but all the same, the action has you clamping your thighs tightly against him. Irrationally, you wonder what he would feel like for real. You’re barely aware of the cameras, barely aware that this is a scene. It feels too real, too good to be acting. 

The blond man tucks his face against the side of your neck, hiding it from the camera’s eye. You feel the press of his mouth against your skin as he kisses the juncture of your shoulder. That wasn’t a necessary action, but you can’t find it in yourself to care. You bring a hand to the back of his head to encourage him, clenching your fingers into his hair. You feel more than hear the moan he makes when your nails scratch lightly over his scalp. Heat floods you at his indication of pleasure and-

“Cut!” The director’s voice cuts through whatever was building. “Excellent work, everyone. I think we got it.”

Colt lifts off of you and rolls to the edge of the bed where he sits for a brief moment before standing. You catch the barest glimpse of a scar on his back before the stuntman is on his feet and getting decent. By the time the director and supervising staff let you get dressed and off set, your impromptu scene partner is nearly out of sight. 

You take off running, ignoring the startled looks of the crew. You might be a total fool, but it had felt like there was something between the two of you in that fake bedroom. Weaving through the milling production staff, you get within yards of him before you slow down. 

“Hey, stunt guy!” You yell, winded.

He stops, startled, and turns to look back at you. He’s not the only one staring. It feels like everyone in the vicinity is watching the performance you’re putting on. You close the gap even further, coming to stand in front of him.

“Hey.” His tone is soft, questioning.

“I think we probably should have had dinner first, but will you accept after?”

He laughs, eyes squinting with the width of his answering smile. “I would like that.”

#the fall guy (2024) #the fall guy #the fall guy fanfic #colt seavers #colt seavers x reader #drabble #colt seavers fanfic #my work #my posts #my drabbles #i can't stop thinking about this man #it's only been 11 days since the trailer and this is the third time i'm writing for him

[yume-yuurei]

Smitten Ace × reader drabble

I recently came back from a ve~ery long trip, and I've got a few ideas to share... to be honest, I used to be pretty annoyed by Ace when I first got into twst, but the more content I find of him, the more attractive this prick seems >:/ I swear, liking him as a character feels embarrassing... but who cares? Basically, this post is all about what I imagine travelling with a smitten Ace might be like.

So, almost half of my trip was spent riding the train to get to a camp with a hundred or two of other kids from my region, so you can guess it was eventful. Imagine going on such a trip with the first-years team, having to take a train for three days straight - it's basically like becoming roommates for a short while.

To get at least a sliver of privacy, you call dibs on a top bunk from the very start; that way you can hide away in a space of your own when social interactions start getting exhausting. Hearing that, Ace rushes to claim the bed opposite of yours. It takes him some effort to convince Deuce, who was actually supposed to take that place, to trade, without blowing his cover. When you enter the train car, Ace is already unpacking his things, jumping down his bunk (almost landing on Sebek) to throw your luggage onto a shelf.

Settling down isn't easy, with how many passengers are in the train car and how little space there is, but eventually everyone takes their seat.

The road promises to be long, and what better entertainment is there if not playing card games? Obviously, Ace has brought a whole pack of them, a laminated limited-edition deck with am intricate design that he snagged from his brother. Passing cards out for everyone and starting a game. As expected from someone who's been basically holding cards since crib, he wins every single time, pulling kings and aces seemingly out of nowhere (or, perhaps, right from his sleeves...). When he exits the game, Ace leans closer to you, watching the way you use your deck and giving subtle hints on how to turn the situation in your favor, smirking proudly when you start picking up and winning more frequently.

Whenever your little squad sits down for a meal, Trappola takes a seat as close as possible - either in front of you or at your side. You two often trade or share, swapping food you don't like for something you have a liking for. Ace would never be caught dead admitting to it, but I feel like he might sometimes lie about hating some snack or desert, just to have a reason to share with you.

I don't even doubt that he'd be the one to initiate playing something like truth or dare later into the evening, having prepared a full list of embarrassing questions and wild dares specifically for this occasion. Expect him to bluescreen if, when dared to kiss the most handsome guy around, you pick anyone except him.

And eventually night rolls around. Clad in a complect of comfortable night clothes, you fluff up a pillow and a blanket, wrapping yourself up cozily and turning on one side. You face Ace, barely making out his features in the dark. His two crimson eyes stare into your face, and if at that moment all lights were on, you would've noticed a hint of fondness in his expression. Propping his head up on a hand, Ace whispers,"

Asleep yet?"

You two talk quietly for a few more hours into the night. School, family, plans for future - it's so easy to share with him, conversation flowing naturally. Contrary to the confident and boisterous voice he usually equips around others, right now he sounds gentle. No persona to upkeep (assuming that all others have fallen asleep long ago), nothing to hide or prove; and as you feel your eyelids grow closing and head sinking into the pillow, you succumb to heavy sleep of exhaustion.

The last thing you hear before dozing off is a far-away:

"Good night... dream of me, yeah?"

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yuurei's fics #the way of a housewarden #ace trappola #ace trapolla x reader #another drabble I wrote during class #plss I'm reposting it for a third time hnnn

[loopspoop]

Imagine, if you will, Goemon’s first time in the US. Everyone’s relaxing (or maybe mid heist, who knows?) and he sees a raccoon doing raccoon stuff. Of course he’s like “you have tanuki here in America????” because have you seen the raccoon dogs?? Super similar, super cute! Lupin’s laughing and trying to tell him it’s an entirely different animal but Goemon’s not buying it at all because it has to be a prank or something. Jigen tries chiming in that it is, in fact, an entirely different animal, it just looks similar, which Goemon half believes since it’s Jigen and he would be a little nicer and not prank him. This derails their entire evening and they have to teach him about common American animals to make sure he knows they’re serious about it not being a joke

#lupin iii #lupin the 3rd #lupin the third #drabble #goemon #goemon ishikawa xiii #jigen #jigen daisuke #jigen lupin the third #Lupin polygang if you will #Lupin polycule #goemon is learning #Lupin can be kinda mean sometimes #jigen is less mean