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xawkward-ariesx · 1 month

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Because it hurts

“They’re people?” “They were, until they had all their humanity taken away… All emotions removed.” “Why no emotions?” “Because it hurts.”

She thinks about that sometimes over the years. After everything. After the walls have sealed them universes apart. After she sees the Doctor one last time but only to say goodbye, to tell her that this is the end, that she can never come back. After everyone moves on and carves a space for themselves in this new world that had left a gap just for them.

She thinks about the Doctor stood before a cyberman’s head as he told her, “An old friend of mine. Well, enemy.” She thinks about the way he couldn’t distinguish between the two for a moment. She thinks about the way he’d spilt about old monsters and the world he’d burned to destroy them. She thinks about Sarah-Jane, an old friend he’d never been able to speak of.

She thinks she understands some of that now. She wonders if he keeps silent about her the way he did Sarah-Jane. Thinks she’d understand that too. She thinks about Sarah-Jane telling her the Doctor had been called home by the Timelords, how she’d never seen him again. She thinks about the way the Doctor never talks about them; talks about the beautiful planet, the trees, the grass and the two suns it used to orbit.

She thinks about the Doctor screaming at the Nestene, trying to bargain with it even after it’s shown itself to be hostile. She thinks about the Doctor and how his pity for the Gelth had made him blind to their intents. She thinks about the way he wears his scars and if she’s one of them now, or if he keeps her hidden away with his memories of people. She wonders if he still lets his pain and his anger fuel his need to save another planet, another people. She wonders if it still burns a hole through his hand the way there’s a burning in the back of her mind.

She thinks she understands him in a way she never could before as she fights to prove him wrong. Words and numbers falling from her lips in a way that reminds her of Jack, remind her of him. Things come to her easier these days, things she’d never understood before when they’d gotten lost in techno babble back before. Before she’d gotten stuck. Before Jack had stayed behind to fix the Earth. Before they’d left him alone, despite their best intentions.

Things slot into place for her now in a way that she doesn’t understand how but comes from the golden, burning place in the back of her mind that she knows shouldn’t exist. Should be locked behind fortified doors. Shouldn’t still be glittering, but hollow and cold. Shouldn’t leak secrets of the universe into her ears. Should leave her clueless and frustrated, grasping at dead ends in a way that’s expected of a girl off a council estate that never finished her A levels. A girl that had followed a stranger to the stars and picked up a few more along the way because she hadn’t understood then; but she’d seen the same lonely shadow in him that she’d felt in herself.

But she understands things now that she shouldn’t. She understands dimensional travel. Understands the cracks in the walls and the scars in the void that never completely heal if you press just right. Understands the physics and theory better than anyone of her time period should, let alone her. Understands why monsters are easier to face than the ones you’ve lost. Understands why there had been locked doors on the TARDIS in the same way she can’t bring herself to decorate the blank room she’s found herself occupying.

And she wonders if the fire ever burns out for the Doctor in the way the universe feels a little too heavy for her sometimes. She wonders if he sees her in the way she hears his words in her mouth. And the shadows she’d seen him seem heavier in her own eyes these days. She thinks about her mum’s words on that fateful day.

“You even look like him.” “How do you mean? I suppose I do, yeah.” “You've changed so much.” “For the better.”

She thinks about how it had filled her with pride at the time. She thinks about how she’d thought she was fitting into this new world that he’d shown her. How she’d become more than just another nineteen-year-old girl from the Estates. She thinks about how she doesn’t bother to fit into this world. How she doesn’t try to force this world to make space for her where there is none. She thinks about how that sentiment has become even more true in his absence. She does look like him. From the way she carries herself to the way she carries her scars and her secrets, lets them make her someone else.

She thinks about the worlds she’s seen dying as the stars blink out of existence across reality as she fights her way back to him. She thinks about the way she’s let every single one of them harden her when she couldn’t save everyone. She thinks about the nonchalant way the Doctor had spoken of the empty Earth before the sun had swallowed it whole. She thinks she understands how he’d focused on the survival of the species of the planet living amongst the stars instead of fixating on the planet he couldn’t save. She thinks about the lone survivor of a planet with its twin suns and the little blue box that remains its planet’s only reminders of its existence after the universe moved on.

She thinks about all the people they hadn’t been able to save. About how every single one of them had burned deep inside of her, fueling a resolution to do better next time. She thinks about how the first few fires had burned her before she learned how to put up the appropriate armour up. She thinks about the Doctor and his own armour. She wonders what taught him to put walls up between himself and the fires.

But mostly she thinks about the ways the years slip by her unnoticed, despite her mortality and the way she feels as though she’s never getting any closer to what feels just out of reach. And she wonders if it’s the same for him. She wonders if his immortality weighs on him the way her humanity weighs on her. She thinks she understands now the adamant way he’d spoken of humanity and how it hurts, the way there’d been no room for argument. The conviction in his words as a man burned too many times.

#Ace writes #doctor who #doctor who drabble #DW drabble #Rose Tyler #Rose Tyler drabble #procrastination drabbles #this is unedited #dimension hopping rose #my favourite girlie is back <3 #rise of the cybermen my beloved #i havent written anything in forever and my dw inspo has been particularly absent so were taking the win #did i bash this out in one sitting immediately after seeing that gif set? yes. absolutely. thanks to the op for returning my inspo from war #im a lil scared to post this actually ive done a quick passover but i havent posted anything in forever #im supposed to be working on my lab portfolio but instead im here

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 4 months

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he’s staring.

in the corner of your eye lies a silhouette, a blur of black hair and sharp facial features. awfully hard not to notice, when he’s standing so close to you — gazing at you so intently. waiting for you to say something.

(resisting the urge to look at him directly is a struggle.)

a smile tugs at the corners of your lips, something giddy and sweet flooding your veins. he’s just standing there. all while you tap at the keys of your laptop, trying to focus on your work. in vain.

because, inevitably, the rubber band of your patience snaps — and you can do nothing but give in to the temptation. feeling him shift from foot to foot, silent as a mouse. you turn your head.

suguru looks meek.

there he stands, tired eyes trailing over your facial features, before falling down to the floor. something about it makes you want to coo — almost like he’s a little flustered. fidgeting with his hands, wringing his long fingers together, so patiently waiting for your attention to fall on him.

you swear you see the ghost of a pout slip into the curve of his lips. wearing a comfortable sweater, oversized and fluffy, framed by the obsidian of his hair; cascading down his shoulders like a black river. let loose, free to fall as it please, a signature sign that he’s tired.

and as soon as your eyes meet his, a certain something blossoms within the scope of his iris. peeling at the corners, slipping into the amber and cedar, an emotion you can’t quite place. would it be too tacky to call it love?

a giggle slips from your lips, dancing on the tip of your tongue. it’s soft, a little teasing, but who could blame you when he looks so cute? suguru, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, sharp eyes and intimidating presence, staring meekly in your direction. as if too embarrassed to ask for something, curling into himself.

”hey there,” you exhale, something amused laced into the vowels. ”everything okay?”

he averts his gaze. enamored with the smile on your face, the crinkle of your eyes, the melodic lilt of your sweet laughter. like peach blossoms and duvet covers, too soft for him to handle. far too sweet, the mere sight of you, all cozied up on the couch; legs crossed and laptop balanced on your thigh.

(suguru wishes he could take its place.)

a tilt of your head beckons him to speak, and he can’t help but notice the remnants of something teasing in the gesture. he feels a little out of his element, almost shy, and it’s discomforting — but he’s just so tired. much too plagued by the need to be close to you.

he can live with a little teasing, if it’s you, only if it’s you.

”what’re you working on?” he asks, delicate, soft voice flowing from his lips like melted honey. there’s a raspy tilt to it, a little scratchy. you smile, gaze drawn towards the screen in front of you.

”nothing much, just some essay. i’m almost finished.” a low sigh, as you lazily scroll through the text. suguru hums. when you look over at him, the smile on your face grows just a tad softer. ”did you need something?”

suguru stills. blinking drowsily, slow and awfully endearing, a flutter of his black lashes. absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his puffy sleeve. the silence lingers, a contemplation etched onto his features, until he clears his throat — still unable to look at you properly.

(there’s only one thing he wants. needs. asking for it is just a little bit tough, though.)

patiently waiting, you begin to study his expression. second nature, to tuck his features in between your ribs, smoothe along the contours you’ve come to love so dearly. memorizing every dip and birthmark.

there’s a barely noticeable flush to his cheeks, a crimson smear that starts at his ears and only ever nips along his cheekbones, but it’s enough to let you know that he’s embarrassed. more than enough, seeing as his gaze won’t even land on you, seeing the fatigue beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows. something that sticks to his skin and drags him down.

he has been a little stressed, lately. more so than usual. and you’ve noticed, of course you have — worriedly waiting for him to approach you, to let you help. winters are never very kind to him.

he’s gorgeous, though, even like this. especially like this. sleepy, just a little unkempt, in his natural state. bare, somehow. like he just woke up, like the morning sun is kissing up his collarbone and he just made a cute little sleepy noise that you’re going to tease him for over breakfast. like he’s unguarded, at peace, safe in your arms.

it makes your heart soften considerably. crumbling at the corners, a pang of lovesick ache tugging at your fragile heartstrings.

and finally, you speak up. urging him to continue, gently, not wanting to rush him. ”well?”

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, just a little chapped. his tongue flits out to lick along the dry skin, and he does a little cough under his breath. you’re patient, waiting for him to speak, but it’s tough when all you want is to tug him close.

(you have an idea of what he’s going to ask you, what it is he wants. because you know him — and you want it too.)

”… can,” he starts, tentative. slow, as if he’s trying to swallow the embarrassment, gulp down the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. then he continues. ”i get a hug?”

finally, he looks at you; and your heart ricochets in your chest. amber eyes boring into yours, deep and warm, soft around the edges. kind of shy.

a sharp intake of breath. you can’t help the grin that crawls up to your lips, and you can’t help the words that spill from them. ”gosh, you’re so cute.”

suguru turns away, with what you’re almost sure is a low grumble — buzzing in his throat, like a dragonfly itching to break out. he really does look meek, a little needy, so cute you’re afraid your lungs might collapse. when a chuckle pushes past your lips, the red tint on his neck and ears only seems to exacerbate.

with swift movements, you close your laptop, plopping it down on the table in front of you. not wanting to waste any time, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind. ”of course you can,” you assure him, a soft lull of your tongue.

leaning back, you rest your head against a pile of cushiony pillows, melting into the couch beneath you. extending your arms; beckoning him close, into your embrace. the smile you grace him with is a little teasing, but mostly soft, inviting.

and suguru can’t resist it.

he still seems a little flustered, as he crawls along the couch, to take his rightful place in your arms. flopping down on top of you with a huff, like a big dog, cheek squished against your chest — eager to listen to the echo of your heartbeat. steady and soothing, a lullaby to his muddled mind.

a long, satisfied sigh escapes him, muffled into the fabric of your shirt. he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling a little further into your touch. slowly melting.

ah, he’s just too much. try as you might, you don’t fully manage to stifle the coo that laces the tip of your tongue. just admiring him, in the dim lighting of the room, all sleepy and content. that palpable fatigue, slowly dissipating. a soft groan slips from his lips when your hand goes to card through his hair, softly, nails raking over his scalp.

”my big baby,” you murmur, planting a kiss on the top of his head. suguru wants to grumble, protest a bit, but all he can do is soak in the words, the skip of his heartbeat that follows. ”everything okay?”

he nods. groggy, cheek against your soft chest. no longer able to hide his neediness, to muster the strenght, thoroughly soothed by the warmth that seeps from your body. from your veins to his. and he sighs, barely above a whisper. ”jus’ missed you.”

he must notice it, you think — the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat, something erratic in the decisive thumps of blood. a little louder than they should be.

but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. only shifting a little in your arms, nuzzling further into your chest, relishing in the sensation of your hand in between his messy locks. so cozy.

”i missed you too,” you echo, unable to fight off the sappy grin on your lips. so much affection in every caress, every soft glance. eager to be let out. ”’m sorry if i’ve been neglecting you.”

suguru shakes his head — brushing off your guilt. always so willing to put your peace of mind before his. it only weakens you further, thoughts fuzzy with the image of him, the love that clouds your vision. how to properly convey it in words.

”i’m always so proud of you,” you exhale, a little shaky. so earnest that you falter. a loud mantra of your heartbeat filling your ears, so much fondness stuffed inside your chest. ”working so hard. love you so, so much, honey.”

this time, it’s suguru’s heart that stutters and flails. reduced to a desperate instinct, something intimate and bare. the term of endearment slips off your tongue like it was always meant to be there, like that’s where it belongs, coupled with the soft sensation of your fingers ghosting over his skin. brushing away his bangs to smear a kiss against his forehead.

”i’m never gonna let you go,” you promise, unable to control the affection smeared into your voice. like you’d explode if you didn’t speak it out loud. ”my angel.”

”okay — that’s,” suguru croaks, before you can continue. exasperated, deeply embarrassed. at this point, he’s sure his face must be red, and he’s sure you can see it. despite his attempts to hide away in the crook of your neck. ”that’s enough.”

laughter bubbles up in your throat, sweet like osmanthus and whipped cream. giddy and teasing, in equal measure, sending a jolt of fondness running through his veins. ”are you embarrassed?”

”no,” he scoffs, too quickly. you both know he’s lying. it’s a rare treat, seeing him this flustered — how could you resist the urge to tease him a bit?

”then why d’you want me to stop?” you grin, searching for his gaze. but suguru refuses to look at you.

”it’s just…” he mumbles, a string of tiny words. gnawing at his bottom lip. ”a little much, don’t you think?”

”i mean it, though.”

suguru groans, and a bout of giggles pushes past your lips. the smile on your face is starting to make your cheeks hurt, an achy kind of joy. yeah — suguru is just far too cute. he’s cute, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous. how could you keep yourself away?

reaching for a strand of his hair, you let it fall between your fingers. smooth and silky, brushing against your skin, soft and familiar. memories bloom from your fingertips, seeping into your subconscious; the first time he let you touch his hair, that content purr in his throat, the time you braided it as the world fell asleep around you. he takes good care of it, always has. attentive and delicate, almost as lovingly as he handles you.

a great surge of affection sprouts in between your ribs, spreading throughout every cell of your body, wholly engulfing you. it’s too much to bear.

a blissful sigh. you tilt your head, softly, a bleeding tenderness to every word you speak. and you do, with a sincerity to your voice that he’s never been able to handle. “is it really so strange if i want to give the love of my life some affection?”

— and suguru’s resolve crumbles into dust.

”… you’re,” he tries, a shiver of his weak voice. under normal circumstances, he could think of a suave reply, something to get the upper hand; but today, suguru happens to be very tired, and you seem awfully set on making him melt through the couch. ”— awful. you know that?”

his heart aches, when the bitter words make you giggle. a little sleepy. it makes him want to tuck you into his chest, hide you away inside his ribcage. kiss you breathless.

”so mean,” you pout, entirely fabricated. a heavy amusement lays thick on your tongue. “i’m professing my undying love for you here, y’know?”

”that’s exactly what i mean,” he sighs, unable to repress the slight smile on his lips. a little tug, that says more than his words ever could.

the laughter in your throat lingers, for a bit, until the intimacy of the moment softens you up. something tender and genuine in the depths of your eyes. ”i mean it, though. i’m not just teasing you.”

your hand goes to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. and then you’re leaning in, to press your lips against his forehead — pulling away with a drawn out mwah, a soft grin, a little boyish. terribly cute.

”i really do love you,” you profess, a whisper. he believes you. “i love everything about you.”

a moment passes. the soft ticking of the clock fills the space between your words, and the scent of leftover curry and brewed coffee simmers in the faraway kitchen. wafting out into the living room.

suguru places his hand over yours. a rough palm, always so gentle with you, slipping down to your wrist so he can hoist himself up.

you blink.

before you know it, he’s pressed his lips to yours, slow and methodical. tender, tender, tender. always. he sighs into the kiss, content, and your heartbeat quickens — he tastes like honey and rain.

when he pulls away, he’s smiling. a little lovesick.

”i love you too,” he hums, a soft purr that trails down your spine. he delights in the way you finally blush, cheeks warm beneath his heavy hands. ”so, so much.”

all you can do is stare, entirely transfixed.

then you’re averting your gaze, and he’s stifling a soft bout of laughter, and something warm and wonderful blooms in the nearly non-existent space between you. his cheek finds itself pressed against your chest, again, allowing the soft and rapid thumping of your heartbeat to carry him away.

an anchor for him to hold on to, his lighthouse at the end of a murky ocean. it’s always, always there — that soft mantra of thump, thump, thump.

(he can’t tell you how many times it’s saved him.)

”… you can’t do stuff like that when my guard is down,” you murmur, after a moment. sheepish. ”what if my heart explodes?”

suguru only chuckles, sleepy and raspy, the same as ever. he turns his head to press a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, right above your heart, a kind of cheeky, soft apology that you know he doesn’t actually mean.

(he could never feel sorry for telling you how much he loves you; no matter how flustered you get.)

and, at last, suguru thinks the fatigue clinging to his soul may have slipped off entirely. substantially. soothed by your presence, your very being.

it’s embarrassing, being so very doted on, being so painfully unaccustomed to it. but suguru could never hate it. he could never hate a single thing you do to him, grant him with, from your soft touches and cheeky kisses to the burnt pancakes you worked so hard on.

he’d rather die than deny you.

so he has no choice but to bask in it; the feeling of your hands in his hair, nails on his scalp, breath against his skin. the change you’ve brought into his life. bringing with you the fading scent of peach blossoms and chewing gum, sweetness and softness. happy dreams.

yeah, that’s right. he has no choice but to melt into your touch, nuzzle into your chest, fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat.

no choice at all.

#didnt have time to write a full fic this week </3 so mindless fluff drabble it is!!#hes sooo babygirl perhaps even more babygirl than gojo #not really. but its close!!#ive said this abt gojo too but being babied really WOULD fix sugu #he needs his hair brushed + chest squished + forehead kissed + etc etc. i volunteer!! dw guys ill handle it #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru x you #geto x you #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto fluff #jjk x y/n #jjk x you

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abbyscherry · 1 month

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abby’s the type to slap your pussy—like she’s more proud of it than she is of you, call you her best girl, grin at your fucked out face, and laugh when she’s done making you cum for the 5th time that night.

#whats up #idk how to write anymore #i fear #dw i’m trying #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson drabble #abby the last of us

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cashmoneyyysstuff · 3 months

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m'starting to get my groove back no emperor so here's a lil valentines day piece i wrote, hope yall enjoy ♡ ! ( a lil bit more love for the hopeless romantic singles like me, ppl in a relationship yall can get that from your s/o's..still love yall tho ♡)

fem reader, katsuki is a nervous lil thing, his friends don't help( they do end up helping him out tho), just pure fluffyness, bksquad boys are sassy towards each other but all in good fun, bkg is a softie, kirimina kinda hinted but eiji shuts it down take it how u wanna, food n takeout mentions,dude talk written by a girl trying her best, kirishima's sheets smell bad lemme know if i missed sum else ♡ !! (no friends to lovers mentioned in this one btw..starting to feel myself goin thru withdrawal already..), not rlly reader oriented like usual but i thought this was cute lol i like the idea of katsuki caring about us so much he goes out his way to ask for help from others (despite hating doing so)teehee (also i like the idea of these silly guys interacting and i like hc-ing them okay okay i'll stop rambling okay-)

the last thing kirishima expected at 9.34 pm was someone basically busting down his door with how hard they were knocking on it.

eijirou opens the door urgently and is even more suprised to see his foul mouthed best friend on the other side of the door.

"woah, bakugou, man !" he exclaims seeing the state his friend was in. his eyes looked droopy and his clothes were wrinkled up like he had done a lot of moving around. usually, he would've assumed his friend had just awoken from a good nap, but his restless expression said otherwise. "what happened to you ? you look—"

" 'm fine." bakugou gruffs hoarsely, taking a deep breath at his friends widened eyes, softening up his demeanor just slightly " i'm good," he rephrased "just—you gonna let me in or what ?"

eijirou sputters out an "of course, of course" only for his friend let himself in before he could even move aside. though he immediately freezes when he sees-

"woah, kacchan's gone nutso ! " denki exclaims, face turning red from laying upside down on kirishima's bean bag for way too long.

"and he's up past 8 ? must be the apocalypse or somethin' " sero chuckles from his place on the floor near the dresser.

bakugou groans has he flops onto eijirou’s bed "of course you losers are here" his complaint is muffled against the pillows, but not muffled enough to where the rest of the boys can't hear.

"hey ! we were here before you ! 'f anythin', you're the one intruding—!" denki gulps, eyebrows furrowed. he quickly spins around to lay right when he feels the blood rushing to his head, taking a deep breath afterwards. sero chuckles and bakugou deadpans at kaminari for a good fourty seconds before slamming his head back down and groans even louder.

kirishima decides he's at a safe enough distance to sit down on his own bed, without making any sudden moves so as not to anger the beast that is an angry, sleepy bakugou. he places a hand near his friends leg, where he deems he's at safe to ask "what's up man ? you're usually in bed by this time.." he hears sero make a noise in agreement.

"yeah, or he's havin' kissy-kissy time with his giiiirrrlffrrieeeend.." kaminari sings, kicking his feet in the air jokingly. bakugou, to everyones suprise, flinches at the mention of you, then slams his head against kirishima's pillow harder and groaning even louder.

all three friends share a curious-somewhat worried look. kirishima nudges his head in bakugou's direction, silently begging his friends to say something. said friends adamantly shake their heads, as if synchronized, making a cross motion with their arms. kirishima sighs to himself, some friends.

yet again, he is the first one to speak up " did..did something happen between you two, didja fight or something ?" he asks carefully, his entire body is strained and the air in the room is so heavy, everybody present ready to get a big portion of the great lord explodo-bomberkill's anger.

only to be met with bakugou turning around to lay on his back eyebrows strained slightly and eyes absent, thinking about something they don't know "what ? course we didn't fuckin fight, idiot." he answers simply.

the three friends all let out an obnoxious sigh of relief, to katsuki's slight confusion.

"hoo, okay." kirishima answered relieved. he knows you and bakugou don't fight very much (which he thinks is super manly) but he knows that when it happens bakugou get's extremely—EXTREMELY—irritable, so it's best to stay away from him while he has his heart broken for a little bit, unless he reaches out by himself, but that only happens when he feels really bad and came to ask for advice on how to get his boyfriend priviledges back. "soo.." eijirou sings "what happened then ?"

bakugou's face hardens and the group stiffens again, preparing for a latent explosion--perhaps the volcano was still dormant and was about to be set off. the three boys hold their breaths.

bakugou takes a deep breath, a sour expression on his face.

3..

bakugou huffs out a sigh.

2...

he opens his mouth to speak and—his cheeks are turning pink ?

"valentine's day's after tomorrow and i don't know what the fuck to get her."

the three boys slump over and kaminari does so so hard his face bangs against the floor. kirishima feels like he's in a sitcom or some gag anime.

" that's it ?" sero chuckles to himself "what ? you're worried for valentine's day ?" sero mocks, gladly taking the opportunity to mess with the blond "that shit's easy man." he cackles, leaning against the dresser more comfortably.

"yeah dude, all you gotta do is get her some chocolates and like—a teddy bear or somethin' girls love that typa stuff !" kaminari piped up, having lifted his head up from the floor. sero nods and bakugou lifts himself up to scoff at them. it feels like it comes from the deepest depth of his very being and kirishima feels a little hurt, despite not being the target of the attack.

"this is why you losers don't have girlfriends yourselves, so i don't wanna hear anythin' from you." kaminari chokes out an "ouch, dude !" " sides, i'm not just gonna settle for that boring ass shit for my girl. no chance in hell." bakugou concludes gruffly.

"yeah, yeah we get it you're the perfect boyfriend" sero quips bitterly, rolling his eyes. " why'd you come here to ask us if, according to you, we get none ?" he questioned raising an eyebrow.

"i came here for shitty hair, not you bastards." the blond spits, rolling his eyes as well before turning to kirishima, who jumps a little at his friends slightly desperate eyes on him.

"woah, i don't have—what makes you think i would be any help ?" the redhead splutters, waving his hands around.

"don't you have something goin' on with alien chick ?"

"what ?! no dude, we're just friends !"

at that, bakugou's eyes widen the slightest bit before he groans for what feels like the 5Oth time tonight, and flops back onto the bed dramatically, turning his head away from his friend " your fuckin' useless too, then." his friend grumbles angrily.

"hey !" kirishima exclaims "mean ! i help you with your girlfriend troubles all the time without having one !"

bakugou turns to face his friend again with narrowed eyes, before exhaling a frustrated sigh and lifting himself up again, eyebrows furrowed. "your sheets smell like ass by the way." he chides, nose scrunched slightly.

"h-hey !" kirishima reiterates " i was gonna wash 'em !"

bakugou gives him an incredulous look, before shaking his head, sighing.

"well look, how about you just get her something you know she likes, isn't that good enough ?" sero offers, shrugging to himself.

"ou ! i saw a guy on tiktok ask his girlfriend out with wingstop, you could like-" kaminari, despite getting lightheaded before has apparently not learned his lesson as he flips around on his back again "—ask her to be your valentines with some fast food chain she likes, and those cute pink heart balloons they sell at the mall, y'know !"

the boys all hum at kaminari's suprisingly helpful idea. kirishima doesn't wanna say it out loud but he really hadn't expected such a cute idea from his electric friend.

"y'know, i was gonna say you were just hungry with the wingstop thing, but that's actually not a bad idea kaminari." sero hums absentmindedly with an impressed expression on his face. kirishima sweatdrops at his lack of tact but isn't really suprised.

"fuck you, man ! you guys never trust me with this stuff." kaminari whines mostly to himself. "yer track record isn't really the best when it comes to scoring girls, is it ?" sero retorts.

kirishima shakes his head seeing his friends start to bicker. he decides to ignore them and turn to his spiky haired friend, who seems deep in thought "well, what about it ? that sound like a good idea ?" he asks.

"s'not half bad.." his friend mutters in response " it's a good start, i guess."i if he notices how kaminari presses a hand to his chest with a heartfelt look on his face, he doesn't comment on it.

"oh, maybe try the take-out and a movie, i'm assuming you're not trynna have a whole celebration, yeah ?" bakugou grunts in response, his nose scrunches as he cringes thinking about the idea. he shakes his head "no, want it to be..about just the two of us, y'know ?" he utters honestly, in a way that sounds way too out of character from him.

a symphony of awwwss resonates around the room and katsuki feels his cheeks heat up hard as he harshly tells his friends to shut up.

" but seriously i'm curious, you guys are already together right ? why would you need to ask her to be your valentine anyway—shouldn’t that be a given ? " sero wonders.

"i don’t fuckin know, my old hag says it’s about the principal or some shit like that." bakugou sighs, flopping back onto the bed and throwing an arm up over his eyes, it seemed like being up so late was affecting him.

"no way dude, you called your mom ?" kaminari asks, jaw practically reaching the floor (or the ceiling..?) in shock. bakugou flushes and splutters as he hears his friends reaction to this apparently shocking news.

“shut up.” he growls “she says it’s important to show i care.. my old man does it an' they're still together right now so he must be doin' something right.

"woah man.." kirishima uttered in awe " you're goin so far to make your girlfriend happy.." he clenches his fist "s-so manly !" bakugou simply grumbles to himself in response.

"honestly..i didn't expect that from you..like at all."

"fuck off !"

"like genuinely, at all. or maybe like, 0.00003 percent cha-"

" i'll fuckin' kill you tape arms !" bakugou barked, small sparks shooting out of his palms as he kneeled at the foot of kirishima's bed in pursuit of the black haired boy. kirishima swiftly swoops in and grabs his friends arm, quickly putting his finger over his mouth

"shhhh, man !" kirishima shushes. " if we're loud, class rep's gonna hear us !" he hisses.

"or worse, mr. aizawa..." kaminari whimpered.

all four boys share a shiver.

afterwards, bakugou sighs, acting as if him almost literally blowing up at his friend a minute ago hadn't happened and gets up to sit on the side of the bed.

"well whatever, i'm satisfied." he says, a little yawn leaving him "my folks gave me some ideas so i'll use those too." his eyes zip around the room and back to the floor, then he closes his eyes and speaks so quietly kirishima barely catches it

"you guys' idea isn't horrible either so i'll keep it in mind..thanks." he utters a quick " 'r whatever." before suddenly getting up and practically sprinting to the door.

it's quiet in the room as everyone sits stunned and kirishima is the first to speak again "o-oh yeah, no problem man, anytime !" he beamed, though still slightly shocked.

"yeah, no problem..!" kaminari can't seemed to decide if he wants to smile or be stunned. his mouth stuck in an awkward half-smile-half- '°O°-' face.

" course." sero raises a thumbs up and a small smile.

bakugou grunts to himself, graces his friends with a simple "night." then pulling the door open quietly, looking around the hallway quickly before swiftly creeping out the room, closing the door behind him. the boys quickly reciprocate the goodnight quietly before he can fully close it. he stutters at the door for a second longer and kirishima knows he heard them then, so he's satisfied.

it's quiet in the room for about 5 seconds after bakugou's left.

"dude, for some reason that made me feel all warm inside..is that just me ?" kaminari hummed, pressing a hand to his chest.

"nope, me too" sero admits, sighing to himself.

"yeah, same here" kirishima says as well, smiling to himself " he really cares about yn, huh ?"

"i can give him that, yeah" sero stretches, getting up so he can jump onto kirishima's bed.

"dude" he lifts his head up "your sheets do smell like ass." sero snickers.

" I- AM-GONNA-WASH-THEM !! "

afterwards valentines day comes around. the boys don't have valentines of their own but when they see you and katsuki hand in hand, with you holding onto those cute pink heart balloons from the mall, wearing a sweater a little too big for you and a valentines day gift bag in your one hand, with bakugou holding onto a bag of take-out and offering them a single side glance and a nod with a half smirk on his lips, they feel extremely proud of themselves. bakugou reminds himself to tell his friends he owes them one.

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etoiile · 3 months

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HAPPY VALENTINES DAY

starring itoshi sae!

synopsis: itoshi sae thinks valentines day is stupid. its a stupid holiday for stupid people to give each other stupidly overpriced chocolates and flowers. he's never done anything for any girl for valentines day, so why does he find himself wanting to do something for you?

requested by @unknownedvampire !

notes: a small drabble for the gals who don't have valentines </3 (me...)

"kaiser," sae grumbled, looking up from his lunch, "what now?"

kaiser plopped down across from him, ignoring sae's attitude. "so, what are you gonna do for y/n this year?"

sae glanced up at him and went back to his food. "her birthday isn't for months, stupid."

"no, for valentines day." kaiser grinned, trying to get into the mind of itoshi sae.

sae rolled his eyes, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face. "valentine's day is stupid. it's just stupid people making a stupid holiday for their stupid overpriced chocolates and flowers. i've never done anything for any girl on valentine's day."

kaiser chuckled, nudging him. "come on, if you don't make y/n happy on valentine's, someone else will..."

sae glared at him, but chose to stay silent.

but as the days passed, sae couldn't shake the thought that unlike him, y/n actually liked valentine's day. she would talk about it from time to time, her eyes lighting up with excitement. she talked about her love for all the hearts and all the pink, though she would quickly shut herself down, knowing how sae felt about it.

kaiser continued to pester sae about his valentine's day plans, saying something like, "someone's gonna snatch her up!" but sae remained resistant, dismissing the whole idea. however, a tiny seed of consideration had been planted in his mind. he found himself observing y/n from a distance, noticing the subtle joy that valentine's day seemed to bring her.

eventually, that seed grew into a reluctant acknowledgment. he realized that even if it meant participating in the holiday he deemed "stupid" and "lukewarm," it would be worth it to see y/n smile. so, with a hint of bashfulness and an uncharacteristic softness, sae found himself standing in front of y/n's locker on valentine's day, an equally uncharacteristically sweet, thoughtful gift in his bag.

"oh! sae? what's up?" you smiled, bumping into him after putting your stuff in your locker.

"i, uh, have something for you." he mumbled, a pink dusting on his cheeks.

you put your cheek out expectantly, knowing how this is how he usually tells you he'd like to kiss you, but you were surprised when he instead pulled out a small gift bag.

too stunned to speak, you slowly took the bag. "sae? what's this? i thought you didn't like valentine's?"

he rubbed his neck nervously. "yeah. but you do."

your heart swelled at his sweetness. "thank you, sae."

excitedly, you opened the bag to reveal one of those eternal roses and a small card.

a smile spread across your face as you pulled out the contents. sae shifted awkwardly, his usual gruff demeanor replaced by a rare (actually, not-so-rare nowadays, but he'd rather die than admit it) moment of bashfulness.

"uh, yeah. it's dumb, but... happy valentine's day, or whatever," he muttered, avoiding eye contact.

"it's not dumb," you replied sincerely, admiring the rose. "thank you, sae. this means a lot to me."

sae mumbled something incoherent, a mix of embarrassment and a faint hint of satisfaction that he made you happy. you decided not to tease him, appreciating the effort he had put into this seemingly small gesture.

"i love you!" you grinned, pressing a sweet kiss to his cheek.

his face flushed, matching the color of his hair. "i love you too."

sae was never much of a guy for valentines day, but for you and your sweet smiles and kisses, he thinks that maybe he can be.

extra:

you got home later that day and opened up the card sae wrote for you. inside, it read, "valentines day is stupid, but you aren't. i know i don't show it much, but i love you a lot. just like this rose, my love for you will never die. happy valentine's day, y/n. -sae"

(you texted him later teasing him about how cheesy he is.)

#ami writes 💌#im working on other ppl's rqs dw!! u have not been forgotten!!#sae x reader #sae fluff #sae x you #sae drabble #sae imagines #bllk fluff #bllk x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x reader #blue lock drabbles #blue lock imagines

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thefiresofpompeii · 25 days

Text

the ninth doctor trusted rose enough to believe she would stay with him after his face changed. and twelve took some convincing but towards the end of deep breath accepted that clara would stay by his side no matter how old he looked. but thirteen was so used to losing people. her previous self had loved clara and lost her, he had looked after bill and failed to save her, he had tried to redeem missy and (to his knowledge) lost that cause too. no wonder she wouldn’t trust yaz to stay for her fourteenth face. no wonder she believed she ‘had to do this next part alone’. she had grown quietly distant with the new knowledge that she was no longer even an ordinary gallifreyan, not something of this universe, but outside of it, alien even to the aliens. isolated and inaccessible, standing on an invisible pedestal her ancestors placed her on — a pedestal that more resembled a cage. glass walls on all sides like the forced regeneration chamber. thin glass wall between her and yaz now, transparent but too solid to break through. harder than azbantium when there’s no solid footing to stand on.

of course yaz would run when she saw her new self. of course she would leave. companions would never stay now, they would never fully understand. when thirteen said that she would need to do ‘this next part’ alone, by ‘next part’ she meant ‘the rest of her (potentially eternal) life’. it’s the classic gambit: push the one you love away before they get the chance to reject you. because they always will, now. either that or they die in horrible circumstances. better to flee like you’ve always done.

this is why the bigeneration was a narrative necessity, why the giggle was the perfect vision of a positive finale. the original version of the doctor gets to settle down with people that he won’t lose. people that he won’t turn away from. people whose hearts he won’t inevitably break. he’s sitting there in the back yard and he’s not going anywhere…

…yet somewhere out there in sheffield lives a police officer named yazmin khan. she’s not all sunshine and rainbows — all cops are bastards, after all. sometimes she takes her nameless rage out on a shoplifting suspect. sometimes she hands a parking ticket to a kid that didn’t deserve it. and sometimes she does genuine good for the community, sometimes she goes to the club and dances with strangers, sometimes she sits on the sofa and watches a documentary about space exploration and laughs at the painful inaccuracies. and many miles south, the doctor spends time with his family, but he’ll never get the courage to visit her. because she’d want to run away with him again. and he could never give her that, not anymore. anything but running.

yazmin khan loved the universe in the eyes of her doctor. oh, that doctor in the garden? the stay-at-home-doctor? he’s brilliant, but he would never be enough for her. his presence would never replace the cosmic vistas and myriads of stars thirteen gave her. and she’s never coming back

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tired-biscuit · 1 year

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Hello Biscuit 💛 it’s the same anon who’s bugged you about Obito a couple of times recently back again! Thinking about a reader who didn’t even realize she has a raging size kink until she’s in bed with Obito for the first time 😩

18+ fem!reader // cw: size kink

oh goodness, now i'm thinking that a sweet man like obi wouldn't even realize what exactly the size difference would be doing to you either.

i can just picture him quirking a confused brow at the way literal hearts form in your eyes the moment he tops you and presses you into the bed with the help of his weight. your legs are propped on top of his shoulders, bent at an angle that allows him to go so deep inside your wet warmth that it causes a blush to tint his handsome, scarred face a bright red.

he can see everything, and the mewlish little noises you keep letting out during it only make the heat travel further down his burly body; all until you swear that even his neck and chest are flushing a faint pink. he's just so flustered and cute despite being a grown man, it's to die for.

and speaking of death, you might just experience a little version of it from the way he draws his hips back slowly and pushes them right back in even slower, now. the spot where you connect is warm, hot, sticky, dripping wet. you're so attracted to him - to his immense size - that you've turned embarrassingly soaked. just the sight of his broad shoulders, his strong arms, the scars, makes your pussy flutter around his thickness. you can't help it.

and the best part of it is that he looks so mean but he fucks you so gentle. he's all messy kisses, hesitant strokes of tongue, unsure grunts and coincidental manhandling. you've been making love for so long that his midnight hair is all mussed up; there are beads of sweat sliding down his temples and jawline, and yet he still doesn't seem to be planning on stopping anytime soon.

his left hand wraps around your thigh as he readjusts to find more stability on his knees. the headboard of the bed keeps slamming against the wall as he pounds away purely on instinct and what feels good. you're already so close, but the moment he leans in and presses his other hand against your chest so that he can feel your heartbeat dance underneath his calloused fingertips; you're ready to go absolutely feral. like an animal. like an untamed beast.

and how couldn't you? his palm is so wide that it nearly covers both of your tits entirely. just the way he clumsily swipes his thumb over one nipple - if it's done on purpose or on accident, you're not sure - makes you clench. makes you hold onto him so tightly that he feels the need to hiss as he grits his teeth and tries to relish the oh, so sinfully delightful tightness without fully giving into it at the same time.

a muscle twitches in his cheek when he feels your cunt start sucking him in, clearly aiming to milk him completely dry. he swears that he's had a couple of more pumps in him, honest to god, but as he listens to the whine you let out and watches the way your fingers dig into the pillow as you throw your head back in absolute whorish bliss, is enough to make him cum on the spot.

you look absolutely dazed. fucked stupid without reason, it seems.

or at least that's what he thinks.

"fuck...! obi, you're s-so fuckin' big." your eyes squeeze shut and your upper lip quivers when he slams into you to the hilt and keeps himself there with the single, innocent purpose of keeping himself in-check. tears slide down your cheeks with the action but you don't wipe them away.

"oh, god- goddamn... sweetheart." he's just trying not to spill his load too soon, but he's balls deep in and the moan you let out after he accidentally bullies your fucking womb is shrill and piercing; it hurts his ears. makes his heart race and causes his sharingan to come out and play even if he doesn't want it to join this particular game.

the sounds of your intimacy grow louder and a ring of milky arousal gathers at the base of his dick the moment your gaze lands on the deep red that now swirls inside the eye that he doesn't keep hidden underneath the eyepatch. the shade almost glows in the dark and you clamp onto him like a vice in response, even tighter than before - if that is even humanly possible.

"i'm big?" he grits out finally when you make eye contact, his voice hoarse and terribly strained. you're so out of it that you don't even realize that what he's asking you is a genuine question.

poor man. he truly doesn't understand that his fat cock is splitting you into two and is almost becoming too much to bear with each passing second of ruthless, albeit loving, pounding. that he's so big and thick that he makes your entire body writhe, squirm, arch in desperate attempts to accommodate him properly. that he makes you sweat and cry and drool and leak warm slick. that he makes the muscles in your thighs burn from the way you have to keep your legs wide open at all times, just so that he can properly fit in-between.

even your belly throbs, now that he's inside.

"yeah... s'big... stretch me out real good," your voice wobbles and you can't offer anything else as you take his hand with both of yours and slip it between your legs. feeling the friction, your toes immediately curl; feet bumping against the sides of his head when you press his thumb against your clit and guide him into starting a slow circling motion that makes your entire body feel like it's been set on fire.

the button of nerves feels so small and delicate underneath his touch. good lord, for a man so scatterbrained and sometimes outright ditzy; he's good at following instructions when you finally get him to set his mind on it.

just like he's good at making you feel like he's fucked his way right up to your goddamn throat from how big he is.

#dw you're not bugging me!!#i rly enjoyed writing this <3 #i love me a good size kink thirst hehehe #obito uchiha #obito x reader #obito smut #naruto smut #biscuit drabbles #cw size kink

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dont-f-with-moogles · 3 months

Note

Valentine’s Day prompt 💝

For Dazai x Reader 🔞: it’s Valentine’s Day & Dazai tells Reader how romantic it would be to die together today & Reader replies “how about we fuck instead?”

A Little Death (Dark Era; aged up/18+; NSFW) Mafia!Dazai x Reader 1706 words Tw: sui ideation, choking

It was a secluded scene, shrouded in silence. No one dared to cross the boundary of the hotel’s grounds; to do so was a privilege only afforded to a select few. Its air of secrecy was such that it rendered the half a dozen armed guards who brooded over the tower like ravens, quite superfluous. Port Mafia territory. For a scarce number, its walls knew their secrets but whispered none. For the rest, it was simply impenetrable.

The hotel room was neither luxurious nor homely. Thin gauze blinds let in little moonlight. Outside, the starless sky was streaked with storm clouds. Even the fluorescence which defined Yokohama’s horizon and kept the city in artificial daylight did not reach this dark corner of the prefecture. Rain pattered relentlessly, the deluge so intense that entire waves were dashed at the rattling windows. Thin branches scraped against glass. You glanced above your head, half-expecting the flaked plaster to cave in at any moment.

Quieter than the storm came the clicking of the heating unit. A stale smell lingered about the plain, whitewashed walls. A black suit jacket thrown over a chair. Unfinished business. Sake bottles cluttered the side table. A low electric light. Crumpled bed sheets and the scent of sex.

You felt too cold to remain in the doorway. Shrugging your coat off, you hung it on a wall-mounted hook beside his. Its belt dripped rainwater onto the matting beside your discarded Louboutins. As you crossed into the room his silhouette came into view. Dazai sat cross legged on the floor, arms in his lap, his back against the end of a double, Western-style bed. He made no sign at your approach. His gestures, or lack of, were as inscrutable as ever. No one had ever sifted the murky depths which submerged his heart. You only knew that he played games. And, if his intention was to set you on edge, then you would just have to make yourself comfortable.

“I know I kept you waiting…”

The bed gave a small creak as you knelt upon it. Removing the tie from your hair, you allowed it to tumble down, sodden and tangled, past your waist. Then, with a sound of relative contentment, you flung yourself on your back and stretched out your legs luxuriously upon the pillows. Dazai was motionless; the back of his head remained against the foot of the bed. Dark, brown tufts stood up, unruly. You let your head hang down beside his so that your rain-flecked skin brushed against his face. His cotton bandage wrapping grazed your cheek. You felt his jaw tighten. Upside down, the cracks in the floor appeared more fragile than the ceiling. Either one could give way at any moment.

A hand reached into your hair.

“If you remember, you did promise me romance…” Dazai’s tone was as soft as silk. With a turn of his head, the tip of his nose brushed your own. His breath, sweet with sake, clouded you. Threatened to pull you under. Only the initiating thread of conversation and he was already reeling you in.

Slowly his fingers stroked loose strands from your face, until he was cradling the back of your head. There was something so gentle, so loving in the subtle press of his fingertips that you closed your eyes.

“I know…” Your words bore the weight of remorse, even if you didn’t feel it.

Rain lashed violently at the window. Dazai gathered your damp hair around his fingers, weaving a braid like a coil of rope. Playful. If his patience was worn then the lithe movements of his hands did not suggest it.

“How beautiful…” he mused to himself, wrapping the twisted knots like a noose around his knuckles. Watchful, you lay still. In the gloom the pale skin of your neck shone silver.

“What is?”

Wet hair tickled your throat.

“...why, the thought of dying with you tonight. What else?”

Dazai’s voice was thick with desire, quite at odds with such a fatalistic notion. The weight of your corded braid was draped across your neck. With a rustling movement, he had risen to his knees.

“...that’s why you came here, after all.” Dazai poured his whisper into your ear. Liquid black.

Unkempt hair brushed your skin. A pale face; his scars half-hidden beneath wrappings. Dazai’s exposed eye gazed down at you with lust. Its colour was as dark as earth whilst the iris gleamed like molten gold at its centre. His words, his gestures, his games; who could look beyond the endless depths into Dazai’s heart? No; to meet his eye was to stare down into the core of the world itself.

A pull upon the end of your hair; the vine wound itself tighter. You smiled up at him, despite the pink blotches forming on your skin.

“Actually -” you managed, your breath stuttering, “- what I proposed - was a little death.”

Your scalp burned where strands were almost yanked from the roots. Ignoring your hold upon his sleeve, Dazai twisted your hair around his fingers. As ever, he wove his little designs only for you to fall, ensnared in his trap. Not that you minded. If you had any intention of survival, then you would never have accepted his invitation here tonight. Easy prey. What was the point in the struggle when Dazai could so easily devour you whole?

Then the twisted cord collapsed. Your chest heaved in the quiet room. The long ribbon of your hair was still gathered in Dazai’s grip. Fiercely, he jerked your head backwards.

“Is that all you can manage?” Warm breath curled over the shell of your ear. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin of your lobe. Bloodlust rose to the surface.

You let out a shiver of breath, rolling your head back against the covers. Dazai’s shadow fell; rippled down your chest as he leaned over the edge of the bed. His black tie swung loose; draped over your ribcage. With a brush of cool air he drew your collar away. Languorous in his movements, he enjoyed the sight of you like this. His nose grazed your bare shoulder, breath ghosting over your skin. Then - a gentle drop of his lips.

“Find out for yourself, Osamu…”

Dazai pressed his kiss to the base of your throat like a knife.

Hands gathered in his hair, you sighed as Dazai trailed slow, hot, open-mouthed kisses down to your jawline. Your legs writhed against the pillows. Purple wounds nicked into your skin; each mark counted and tossed on the mound of his sins. They said that only darkness flowed through his veins. Mafia black. Doomed to love as dangerously as he lived.

Dazai tasted your jaw; lingered over your cheek, his breath coming quicker. Threading his fingers through your own, he drew your arms beneath him. A feather-light touch to the pale skin of your wrists, his fingertips wandered your limbs. A tuft of dark fringe swept your chin as Dazai kissed your lower lip. Thighs clenched together, you gave another airless sigh. Your mouth chased his, body arching beneath his caress. Head turning against his own, you felt his tongue glide over the back of your teeth.

With a creak of mattress springs, the weight upon the bed shifted. Dazai’s knee sank into the covers beside your head. Bandaged hands smoothed the hem of your dress as his mouth nipped languidly at your bottom lip. The material was bunched together in his fist, and then he slowly drew it up over your hips.

You gasped as Dazai broke away from your mouth. Fingertips stroked your upper leg. A thumb dipped into the waistline of your underwear.

“La petite mort… the brief state of unconsciousness.” Dazai’s breath warmed the inside of your leg. “Only those consumed by death or desire know it…”

With one hook of his finger he had drawn the lace down around your ankles. Teeth grazed your thigh. Your chest rose and fell as he pressed a kiss to your soft, warm skin. Inching closer, closer… until he was right above where you wanted him. Your hands slipped down Dazai’s lower back. Then, the first brush of his tongue. A low moan bled from your throat. His crumpled shirt almost tore under your nails.

Dazai teased, tasted your clit; his subtle toying sent heat flaring. But one taste had provoked a deeper craving within him. Tongue flattened against you, Dazai indulged himself. His grasp upon your legs tightened until his knuckles blanched. The swill of his tongue set your tender flesh aflame. Your mouth dropped open, back curved away from the bed. Beads of sweat broke out over your forehead as you gripped the bedsheets in your fists. All you wanted was to feel his movements inside you.

As Dazai leaned over you, the fabric of his suit brushed your ear. Self-serving, of course he never gave without taking. All that mattered was the price you paid. In this position, he had you exactly where he wanted you. Reaching out, your hand brushed the rigid pleat in his trousers. Hastily, you unclasped his belt; slung down the material; drew him out. With a firm grasp you guided his rock hard cock down to your open mouth.

Lips closed around him. Tight. With a shudder, his hips thrust forward. Dazai’s bandaged hands lifted your legs, splayed you open to swallow you whole. Fingertips buried themselves in your skin. Oh how he longed to grip them in your hair whilst he rubbed himself against your lips. Your nerves were humming; shivers shot through your limbs like electricity. The first syllable of his name collapsed into a moan which sent vibrations down his cock. He scraped the roof of your mouth over and over, until his rhythm began to stutter.

“Fuck…” you heard him choke. “...fuck… no one else can take me like you do.”

He gripped your legs higher, pulled you to him, drank you down. Insatiable. You were burning alive. Helpless, your body melted on his tongue. With a choked gasp, you clenched your thighs around his neck.

“...wanna die happy…” Dazai’s voice was weak as he wiped his mouth on the inside of your thigh. “...so let me die between these legs, Beautiful...”

#thanks for your prompt Val!#I wanted to take a break from Levihan #but I'll be back on my bullshit soon dw #some of these lines were used in my Levi drabble #but I originally wrote them with Dazai in mind ;)#so had to honour them here. They were always meant for him <3 #mafia!dazai #bsd dark era #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #dazai x you #dazai x y/n #dazai x fem!reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd #tw choking #tw sui ideation #n.sfw #my writing

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hugjakee · 6 months

Text

( > 〰 < )・°☆ MINGI DRABBLE #1

Minors dni. Im serious. If explicit content makes you uncomfortable plz do not read.

mingi is a pillow princess, and always needy, and he lovesss to be taken care of. whenever he’s needy, he HAS to make it known to the world and everyone around him that he’s needy and wants to be fucked.

“y/n please come home…I need you…”

he won’t hesitate to call you and tell you how he wants you to touch him, and while he’s on the phone with you, he silently touches himself to your voice and tries to holds the urge to cum right then and there. and once you’re home, he doesn’t miss a chance to jump into you arms and kiss you hungrily.

“please just fuck me already…” the sound of his begging voice, turns you on, the way he looks up at you with pleading eyes that are brimming with tears makes you rock hard.

giving him what he wants, he screams loudly at the feeling of your cock plunging into him… “god y/n…nghh r-right there!”

the way the tears stream done his face while getting fucked is so arousing to you, but also the want of wanting to hold him close to you.

this can last hours on end, trying new positions, finding that one perfect position that makes him scream into his pillow.

And once you’ve drained him of his energy you just crash on top of him, holding him, and caressing his face, while he slowly falls to sleep.

#hugjakeeatz #ateez mingi smut #ateez x male reader #kpop x male reader #x male reader #kpop smut #kpop bg #I love mingi #princess mingi #mingi gives me very much top sub #😁😁😁😁#hugjakee drabbles #hugjakee: mr #to that niki req I will get to it dw!! :333

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heartfullofleeches · 1 year

Note

Yan!soldier brings his darling with him to training or workout?

Maybe darling is wheezing trying to keep up while he isn't fazed, or they're just supporting him like sitting on his back while he does pushups :p

Sorry if I've been kind of annoying you-

"Come on, Sweetheart, just one more- I know you can do it."

Your arms feel like they'll give out - sweat pooling down your shirt. It'll be a great bonding experience. - He said. Maybe if you two were on a balanced level, but you were already exhausted while he had only finished his first exercise.

You hang from the pullup bar like you're life depended on it, supported by your husband from the floor. His arms were hooked behind your legs as you catch your breath; hands kneeling the tense muscles until you were ready. Your lips still tingled from every kiss he gave you - his reward for every pull up completed. You were able to meet up above the bar with the first three, but after that he met you below as the burn in your limbs began.

Squeezing your eyes shut, you tighten your grip on the bar and drag yourself upwards. His hold on you loosens, but he stays in place in case you fall. A hand rises to your back as your breathing quickens.

"Deep breaths, Sweetheart. Hold it for five."

It's the longest five minutes of your life. You gritt your teeth and pull through, counting in your head as all other sound drowns out.

"Five- Okay, that's fifteen."

You drop into his arms, a cool towel running over your head as he praises you for your hard work. "You did good. You don't have to work out anymore this time, besides being my support. Now I'm gonna do some push ups and all I need you to do is hope on my back when you're ready."

You nod - too buzy gulping down water to give a direct answer. He kisses your forehead before dropping to the floor, getting into position as you rest up. After a minute of rest you climb onto his back. Gripping the meat of your thigh, your husband uses his left arm to propel the two of you off the floor.

"Count for me, Love."

"1...2..3."

The numbers bleed together after a while. His hand remains on your leg as they rises, seemingly unfazed by the handicap. Once you reach thirty, he pats your hip as signal to move. He rolls onto his back once you get off him, taking the towel you offer. With his remaining strength he tug off his sweat drenched tee and motions you over to join him.

"Need a break after that- plus I think I racked up enough kisses that I'll be good and ready to continue once we're done"

#You're fine chief dw #yandere #yandere oc #yandere scenarios #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #male yandere #yandere insert #yandere soldier #yandere drabble #yandere x darling

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stevesbipanic · 1 year

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I think it would've been really cool to explore Eddie and Robin becoming friends and Steve's conflicted feelings with it. On one hand he's happy that they're becoming friends since it means Robin is going out of her comfort zone and Eddie is blending well with the party (which means he can hang with his crush more). But on the other hand Steve's not really had to share Robin with anyone until now and he can't help feeling a little bit abandoned.

#dw robs and eds help him with his feelings #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #stobin #robin buckley #st4 #steddie #drabble

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xawkward-ariesx · 11 months

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Rose Tyler doesn't have scars.

At least not in the way that normal people do. She used to, once upon a time. Jagged areas of raised flesh where her skin had knit itself back together from childhood injuries acquired from the reckless abandon of youth and from an ex who threw around harsh words and even harsher hands. But the days where scars meant silvery patches of skin are no more an occurrence than her aging.

Rose Tyler will always look permanently twenty years old with streaks of gold running through her flesh were Bad Wolf knit her back together with the power of stardust and time vortices instead of allowing her to bleed out as mortality would demand. She had hated them at first. Yet another reminder that she was broken and yet no longer human. Another sign that she would have to hide from people lest they realise there was something not quite right about her.

But with time she came to appreciate them the same way she had the marks left behind by Jimmy. They were a reminder that she had survived. She had survived an army of Daleks and it's emperor, absorbing the time vortex, becoming a goddess of Time temporarily and had come out the other side with a heart that still beat and blood still running through her veins, so very much alive despite the odds that had been stacked against her. She could accept that though her skin may glimmer with streaks of gold that glowed in a way that no human should, that they were also a sign that she had survived something that should have otherwise destroyed her.

That didn't mean she felt any need to showcase them though. All the glittering cracks that showed she'd survived what the universe had thrown at her, that was. They were just apart of her that was all. Another thing that she had to accept as her new normal regardless of how she might feel about them.

Or so she had thought.

She was in a museum in the wrong country, in the wrong decade waiting for the dimension canon to pull her back, unable to do anything about her destination but wait. It had only seemed natural that she might as well try and blend in by wandering around the museum while she waited to be pulled back through the void once more.

She hadn't been in a museum in a long time, not for any particular grudge against them, she just didn't have the time for frivolities anymore. The last time she'd been in a museum the Doctor had been pulling her along babbling about their exhibit on the development of Venusian aikido practices through the ages. There was no Doctor by her side now to correct the plaques laid out by the museum as she meandered through the artifacts on display. Despite herself she felt the ache of his absence most strongly in quiet moments like this when there nothing to keep her preoccupied. It was with that thought in mind that had pushed her to turn to the next display.

Within the glass case that was mounted to the wall before her, was a beautiful blue and white vase with veins of gold running through the pottery's structure in spidery webs. It was beautiful. There was no denying the love and care that had gone first into its creation and then into the repair of the vase. She turned to read the plaque accompanying it.

"Kintsugi ( 金継ぎ, "golden joinery"), also known as kintsukuroi ( 金繕い, "golden repair"),is the Japanese art of repairing broken pottery by mending the areas of breakage with lacquer dusted or mixed with powdered gold or other metals. As a philosophy, it treats breakage and repair as part of the history of an object, rather than something to disguise by beautifying the cracks, which serve as a visual record of the object's history."

Rose smiled to herself. It was a rather lovely concept to take something cherished but broken and painstakingly put it back together but to do so in a way that made the damage part of its story rather than something to hide away in shame or pretend didn't exist at all, elevating it in the process.

Perhaps there was a lesson in there for herself.

#Ace writes #doctor who #doctor who drabble #DW drabble #Rose Tyler #Rose Tyler drabble #procrastination drabbles #this is unedited #i dunno what this is i was just thinking about kintsugi and it manifesting as scars and well bad wolf rose is right there and this happened #i have no excuses its 2am and i was feeling restless so you get unedited drabbles #the kintsugi description is not my own

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yabakuboi · 2 months

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small part of a bigger wip i don't think i'll ever fully flesh out but i like it so i wanted to share. very loosely based on franchises like halo, alien, portal, etc.

Steve steps through the portal like a god descending from the heavens, straight backed and powerful, even as he's dragging Dustin kicking and screaming away from the chaos just on the other side.

"I won't leave him," Dustin is screaming.

Robin doesn't know if she's ever heard a more inhuman sound, the way grief and rage has twisted Dustin's voice into something other. And Robin's entire life has been dedicated to new and untouched worlds, to the pursuit of everything alien and non-human.

"Let me go, Steve, let me go! I won't leave him, fuck, fuck you, I WON'T LEAVE HIM! EDDIE! EDDIE!" Robin watches the way he digs his fingernails into the exposed skin at Steve's neck, unprotected by his suit, drawing blood with each rake of his fingers.

Steve is unfazed, his eyes hard and intense as he drags Dustin towards the quarantine doors. Robin can't hear what he says to Dustin, even when Dustin screams back.

"I HATE YOU."

It hurts her, because she knows how it's no doubt hurting Steve, even as he shoves Dustin through the air lock, sealing him behind glass and silencing his screams.

Steve should have gone through too, but Robin knows him. It's why she hasn't closed the portal yet, why she hasn't moved from her station to do damage control, to log the losses:

Crew Member Eddie Munson — KIA

She watches Steve instead, as he picks up his saber and weaponry again, pulling it over his shoulder as he steps back up to the platform, the static electricity of the portal arching up to meet him, like fingers begging to draw him through.

He stops though, and Robin could cry—unsurprised and still grateful that he treats her to one last look. It says everything and nothing, because nothing needs to be said, not between the two of them.

I love you. I'll miss you. I'll come back to you, in this life or the next.

And then Steve turns, and steps through the portal. Robin cuts the contact as he goes, killing the link between them with a sob tearing through her chest. She adds him into the mental log in her list:

First Lieutenant Steve Harrington — KIA

She only allows herself the barest moment to grieve before she moves. The entire ship will be cut off and isolated soon, until central command can guarantee the ship isn't infected. She only has so much time to get to a rescue pod. She only has so much time until Nancy—

"Robin."

Robin doesn't slow her pace, even as Nancy catches up to her, her hand on Robin's wrist. She doesn't let Nancy turn her away, doesn't let her slow her down.

"You can't," Nancy says, hisses, her ire hiding her own grief. Nancy always turns emotion into cold rage. "He's gone, Robin. You can't save him."

"I can," Robin snaps, snarling when Nancy sighs, like Robin is some overemotional child.

"Do I really mean so little to you?"

"That's the difference between us," Robin says, ripping her arm from Nancy's fingers. She turns on the heel of her boot, and it's the first time that she's ever dared to look down her nose as Nancy, Nancy who she loves, love to hold, to kiss, to touch. Her Commander off-world. "Between Steve and the rest of us. You've got everyone sorted so easy in your head, each one ranked higher than the other, who you can and can't live without."

"Robin—"

"And I do, too," Robin admits, teeth grinding together, the fear and sadness burning a hole through her chest, yawning wide and wider and threatening to consume her. "I do, too, and I can't live without him.

"But Steve? Steve would die for any of us, every one of us, even your fucking brother who already left him for dead once."

Nancy gapes at her, her pretty face pale and her eyes red.

"Steve would die for me a thousand times," Robin tells her, her voice wobbling, the righteousness bleeding from her mouth like an open wound, leaving on the anxiety, the fear. "And he'll die for Eddie a million times.

"But I'm not going to let him. I'm going to go get them both and bring them home and fuck you if you think you can stop me."

Nancy stares. Says nothing.

And Robin leaves.

#stranger things #steddie #ronance #stobin #dustin meets her at the pod and they go rescue their guys who are surviving together alone on a hostile planet #(this story would have been an excuse to do survivalist steddie cuddling for warmth but like scifi flavored)#dw nancy isn't far behind she's bringing the firepower and ronance makes up #blows a kiss to the stars #gimme inspiration to finish things pls #shush mal #my fic #dribble drabble #my steddies

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