#*incoherent adoring sounds*

[murk888]

BIG SHOT! BIG SHOT! BIG SHOT!

(i can't find any other words right now. no thoughts only big shot. he occupies my mind. lives there rent free. leaves no free space at all. the big shot is very big indeed)

[kindred-spirit-93]

so whats the story? death or glory? >:D

relistening to paris da musical and im physically unwell im obsessed with everything about it from songwriting to vocals and imagery :')

inspired by @justvea18's super rad paris patrochilles post (here) >:D finally drew the lad with a ponytail lol. he has piercings bc hes cool

[quirkle2]

the angst in your zombie au bREAKS MY HEART INTO PIECES (I LOVE IT VERY MUCH)

okay, okay, so!! if the kagebros got separated from reigen and teru when mob is still fine, i imagine that their reunion would be hEARTWRENCHING also, i'm a bit curious, would mob still be able to recognize teru and reigen? or would he thought about them as strangers?

(tbh, following your lore, i imagine mob would act a similarly like nezuko from demon slayer? but instead of little hums, his zombie sounds would more like babbling and incoherent mumbles :"D)

the reunion is fuckin AWFUL man it's SO gut-wrenching. both reigen and teru feared this for Months while looking for the brothers; pretty much the worst case scenario was that mob or ritsu or Both turned—a lot of humans prefer death over being a zombie any day, so the idea of ritsu or mob having to go through that and wander around aimlessly until starvation or smth else gets them,,,

it hurts them so much to think about. teru forces himself not to dwell on it and he's pretty good at that but reigen thinks abt it a lot and he's honestly not sure what scenario is worse. best case is that they're both alive and unturned, obviously, but what's the worst case? you'd think it's both of them getting killed, or turning, but reigen also knows that if One of them got killed/turned, the other would probably lose their mind, especially if they had to watch. the fact that they're kids makes this all three times worse and reigen has to act like he's Not worrying himself sick over the brothers while he tries to keep teru in high spirits

the reunion itself is rly fuckin gut-wrenching for them. they see mob from afar, wandered off just a bit from ritsu and tome who are just around the bend looting a place, and they book it bc ofc they do, it's mob!! but then they see how pale he is, and when he turns around they don't see that light in his eyes that's usually there and the red is dulled and dead looking,, teru almost moves in for a hug before he realizes mob looks vastly different when he Rly takes him in, and mob doesn't rly react too much besides staring at them blankly. the obvious answer is almost too horrifying to even consider, so it takes them a minute to rly,,realize what's going on

tome comes around the bend and shouts, cuz when humans and zombies mix it's usually guns pointed at zombie heads. ritsu comes running out after her and when he sees reigen and teru his thoughts go, in order: holy shit is that reigen and tero ohmygod oh my god they're alive they're alive ohmy god i could fucking cry, and ohmy god they see shige ohno oh no oh no

ritsu sounds like a lunatic when he pulls mob away from them on instinct and says that he's safe to be around and that he's "still him" and he's "not gone" and he's very aware of that. he's very, intimately aware that he sounds fuckin crazy, bc ofc he does, this is what all the crazy people in zombie movies sound like. but he doesn't care, he doesn't care if reigen or teru dismiss him as nuts—he has to make them understand that his brother is still in there somewhere

and yeah, they both kinda think that ritsu's lost his marbles a little bit, but while teru is focused on that and the fact that mob doesn't look like he's rly tuned into Anything that's happening rn, reigen is a bit more focused on the fact that both ritsu and mob look awful? they're both very skinny and very dirty, obviously barely scraping by. they're cut up and ritsu's jacket is basically blood and dirt with a little bit of green fabric mixed in. and just by the look in ritsu's eyes, reigen can tell, man ... reigen can tell ritsu is like.not okay at this point he's kinda lost it.

i think the most painful thing about this whole reunion in general is that later that night, when reigen and teru r finally like ok we get it he's,, he's still mob. we believe you (they want to believe him... [they Do believe him, later, wholeheartedly]) and they settle down someplace safe, teru asks how long mob's been like this. and ritsu has to answer "since we got separated" and they both have that to stew over while everybody else sleeps

they realize that ritsu likely watched mob turn, watched the entire process, and that process takes a long time. it's at least a week of deteriorating motor functions and cognitive skill, and the fact that ritsu stayed for that to keep mob company is .ough. and it doesn't end there bc ritsu obviously stayed after that too

given how these things usually go, ritsu probably did think about killing mob. it probably did cross his mind, bc that's basically what everybody's been told to do. kill them before they have a chance to do any more damage. and it's obvious that ritsu did not have it in him

ritsu not only did not have it in him to kill him, he didn't even have it in him to leave him there. the kid fucking took him with him. a zombie. and he's somehow made it work, for months. and the next few days are filled with watching him still treat mob like a brother and take care of him and gently steer him away from a bird he tries to follow down the wrong street.ritsu is as gentle and kind as he's ever been with his brother. and even tho they're both hungry and tired and barely making it, ritsu is doing a rly good job taking care of mob with what he's been given

the kid obviously wholeheartedly believes in a cure and that mob is still There. he's gone through the trouble to take care of him, and the grief of continuously seeing a loved one that many would consider effectively dead, to get him that cure. to get him his brother back. and mob doesn't seem to be in any pain or distress, so reigen and teru think that this path ritsu has followed is probably infinitely kinder than the mercy kill method they've been taught to do

i think they have a new respect for ritsu, after that reunion

[sxldierselfship]

It had to be him in the end. A long time ago, back in 2016 when I first started playing, I didn't like him very much. It was due to the way other people played him and abused him in-game. I much preferred other team members such as Soldier or Scout because they were easier to play as and easier for me to understand as a newcomer. However, when 2018 to 2019 rolled around, I began to change. My feelings for Demo picked up, although he was nothing more than a second choice to me at the time. Soldier was my main for the longest time, but as I played and got to experience what Demo has to offer, I ended up enjoying him a lot and that is what caused me to change my thinking.

This all ended up coming to a peak in late 2023. I was going through a major shift (without knowing it at first), a lot of things were fixing to change in my life and so was my identity in the context of the game. My memory is skewed due to all of the traumatic events of 2023, but I believe it was around the spring months that I began to spend more and more time with Demo, and I eventually ended up becoming decently skilled with him. Although I did love Soldier, I still do, I knew in my heart that it was time to hang up that title. I had found myself choosing Demo more, I found myself enjoying him more, and I even broke every single record I ever had by playing as him. When my breakup came along about a full year ago today, Demo was all I had. I became so bonded with him in those rough months, and when February eventually came around, I was able to recognize that I loved him dearly.

He's my beloved sweetheart. He helped me to get through things, he was all I had in my times of isolation and all of those cold, desolate nights deep in the war, in the trenches of heartache and isolation. It was incredibly easy for me to love him and care so deeply for him, he is the one person who drives me to do better and to be better, because if he can somehow find it in himself to be an optimist despite the hardships he's faced.. I want to learn that ability, too. It is because of my love for him that I've been working so hard to build myself back up, to allow myself to be gentle and sincere. He is someone worthy of adoration in my eyes, and I want to be the one lucky to adore and appreciate him for who he is..

[tojisun]

Okay, now I need something about bf!logan and his girl making a porno (bonus points if wade finds out after the show they put on for him and that man is willing to RISK IT ALL to see that sex tape😩🤣)

cw: porn link; f!reader; smut; consensual filming during sex; slight sexting at the end // divider by @/plutism!

this is definitely the porno they were making <3

logan has you on your knees, your ass dimpling with every one of his greedy caresses, his heavy hand kneading your flesh. you’re whining to be creampied—to be bred—and logan indulges you with a quiet chuckle because you’re so adorable like this, all needy and demanding, babbling nothing but nonsense because he’s fucked you to the point of incoherence.

you jut out your chin at his croon. he tells you to do it yourself if you really want his cum; says that you’ve got to show him how much you need it.

“an’ here i thought i was bein’ a gentleman,” logan says, sighing in that what-can-you-do? tone like he hadn’t been fucking you so hard, you were sure that the condom was on the brink of ripping.

you grumble, rolling your eyes even mid-tears, before reaching back to where he’s got his cock rutting along the cleft of your ass. you give it a stroke, giggling breathily to yourself at its sheer girth and weight, before sliding your hand down to the pinched tip and tugging.

logan moans, and it rumbles deep, sending tingles to rise from the tips of your toes to the base of your neck. he sounds just a little too excited, and you wonder how you must look as you reach for the rubber, tugging it off the expanse of his cock. do you look desperate, the camera capturing the way you’re shivering like you’re on cum-withdrawals? or do you look like the brat that you are, whining how sex is not enough until logan’s pumping you full of his sperm?

god, the thought that this moment is being immortalized makes you clench at nothing, your hole puckering as it waits to be filled.

the condom comes off with a pop, the rubber snapping off and into itself. it sounds so lewd and dirty, like the two of you are really starring in a corny porno, and it fills your cheeks with warmth as your need wanes in the face of your shyness.

you fling the condom to the side, before burrowing your face on the pillows, as though that alone can hide the palpable hunger rippling from you. logan laughs at your reaction like he’s not softly humping his cock between your thighs, rutting it along the wet mess he’s made out of your cunt.

“y’ready, bub?” logan asks, still giddy with his laugh. you grumble a reply, before jutting your head in a stilted nod.

he taps his weeping cock along your folds, testing, and you shuffle in your impatience. you feel the itch exploding, the need to be stuffed bloating, but logan continues to tease and god, pleasepleaseplease—

“i’ve got you, darl,” he grunts, then he’s pushing in, steady and filling, and, and—

the moan that’s ripped from your throat sounds foreign, like you’re a damn wounded animal. you don’t even get to adjust to his width—pussy lips going taut at his thickness—before logan’s drawing his cock out until all that’s left is the head. there’s a bated breath that you two share, leaving you suspended in anticipation, then he’s bullying it back in.

you flop on the bed, all useless now like you’ve got your strings cut loose. logan doesn’t seem to mind, not with the consistent ringing slaps of his pelvis meeting your ass echoing in your quaint room. god, your brain’s being scrambled right now, you’re sure, because you can’t even think of anything but logan—

loganloganlogan.

you’re already cross-eyed by the time he sprays his first load inside you.

.

wade gets a five second clip from logan’s number. the thumbnail is just a blur of colours and wade’s interest is piqued because logan rarely reaches out to him—a video is just unthinkable.

he was expecting many things—that the video is the one of deadpool being broadcasted on national television with the words “hero or criminal?” after he’s accidentally set the robber’s van on fire, or that the video is an accidental recording of logan’s butt because that wolverine suit was tight and wade can’t even think where logan must keep his phone with him.

but this—

wade wasn’t expecting this.

it was a video of you—wade’s not even embarrassed to admit that he’s memorized the way you look from all angles; what? one doesn’t get a show of wolverine fucking his girl without gaining a new hyperfixation—reaching for logan’s monster cock. wade breathes in sharply as he watches you reach for the condom before tugging it off with a filthy, filthy pop. the video cuts into a next scene of logan relentlessly fucking you hard; the audio is a mess of squeaks and slaps, but also the wet squelches of logan’s cock fucking in-and-out of your gaping cunt.

two things:

1. that’s fucking hot.

2. that video has clearly been tampered with; it was edited to show the barest of the highlights.

this was a conscious decision, with deliberate efforts. this was personal.

an invitation.

wade rubs one… okay, fine.

wade rubs three out before he’s running back to that apartment he’s daydreamed about. mid-parkour, another notifcation comes in. wade falls, because of course he does, but while he waits for his ankle to mend itself back into its socket, his eyes devour the new message.

> darl wants to know if you’re in.

wade sends a dick pic as a reply.

wade busting a fat nut behind tim hortons because he’s patriotic like that

(ext)

[dmitriene]

simon riley fucks you so good you space out, it's the way his fat cock slides in your tight, hot cunt, clutched by your gummy walls that spasm and latch around his veiny shaft, thrumming with pleasure as his weeping cockhead jams against your sweet spot, thrusting purposefully.

it makes your eyes go glossy, looking somewhere beyond his amber eyes as he traces at the bulge on your tummy, calloused fingers feeling the length of his meaty cock carved deep into you, pressing featherlightly, making you jolt with pitchy moan, spine arching with tingling heat.

cunt messy, glossy with all the gushing slick that makes an obscene squelching sounds when simon fucks his cock into your tightening heat, pulsing with each jerky thrust and the wet slide, your supple thighs starting to tense in rippling orgasm, shaking when it's approaches, trying to swallow you whole.

simon keeps you on the brink, enjoying the scorching clutches of your pussy that clings to his cock, little hole spasming for release as you twitch and garble incoherent, adorable sounds, ain't able to focus on the situation with your brain turning into a mush, mouth almost spilling drool as he tugs at your chin.

directing your face lower, making you look at him, bleary gaze fixing on his eyes with much effort, but it doesn't matter when you catch on simon's hoarse coo, on his picking up movements, starting to pound in your gooey walls, teasing you for going stupid on his cock, silly girl with her brain fucked out.

and simon isn't lying, you're dazed, tightening in response to his voice with cutted whimper, messy pussy getting filled with spurting ropes of cum, mixing with your cream as you milk his big cock, throbbing in the clutch of your spasming walls, pummeling your hole until you can't take it, until his cum leaks out.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[chuluoyi]

࿐ ࿔ 🕰️ 「 10:00 A.M 」

SUMMERRR @ohimsummer you’re so responsible for this infinitely adorable idea omg🤧 based on this ask & this video !

a part of gojo's love entries

“papa. come on. pa-pa~ say it after me!”

sunday morning. the first sight you saw after getting up was another shenanigan staged by your husband—

in the form of him shoving your humongous wedding photo in front of your one-year old boy’s face.

“this is pa-pa~” satoru’s singsong voice echoed through the baby room, full of enthusiasm, pointing at his face in the photo. “pa-pa~ easy right? now…”

your baby merely blinked though, chewing his pacifier in pure ignorance. his eyes—a pair blue marbles—glancing between his desperate papa and the wedding picture with little interest.

“hmph,” satoru clicked his tongue, and then he pointed at your beaming figure in the photo, voice visibly flat. “this is… mother.”

you quirked an eyebrow, totally snorting.

but he succeeded in grabbing your baby’s attention this time, as his crystal blue eyes widened a bit in wonder, staring at you in the picture.

“mother is pa-pa’s wife. she makes your food, nice on some days, but be careful! she can put a ban on our supply of mochi if she is in a bad mood!”

“oh, do i?” you walked over to him with a bark of a laugh, crossing your arms.

satoru made an exaggerated spooked look, mouth curving into an ‘O’. “uh-oh, mama dragon is here.”

“look, you big bully. why are you bothering our baby first thing in the morning?”

“i’m not bullying him! it’s education! he has to see that his papa is the gallant sorcerer—”

“—ma!”

. . .

silence. both of you stiffly turned towards your little munchkin when you heard that little, feeble sound.

your baby and his clear, watery eyes made a grabby motions towards you from his bouncer chair, lips wobbling with effort. “ma—ma!”

...another silence before you snapped—

“my baby!!” you squealed, immediately plucking him, giving and smothering him with the tightest hug and kisses, whereas satoru’s jaw dropped to the depths of soil behind you. “kyaaaa~! i love you soooo much!”

“h-how—!”

“i definitely didn’t go through the pain of giving birth to you so you can call your deadbeat papa first!”

“—?! hey! i’m fully responsible for child support!”

and so you left him in his sorrows, walking out while cooing at your bundle of joy, leaving trails of your baby son’s happy giggles along the way as your defeated husband, who felt so betrayed, sulked in the background.

epilogue

“come on… just once, please? say papa.”

this time, satoru has his baby son open a book beside him, as he points at the father figure in that storybook, still urging his mini-him to call him.

but contrary to his expectations, his little boy just aggressively turned the pages over, only seemingly interested in seeing the illustrations on each page.

“papa. come on, buddy, hmm?” he prodded his chubby arms and tickled his tummy, and once again, his prickly baby retorted with—

“ma! ma!”

satoru sighed in defeat, but this time he relented, as the way his son was all energetic while calling you somehow wormed its way to his heart too.

he was still babbling incoherently, and yet this time satoru only pinched his cheeks together. “you sure adore your mama, huh?”

“mwa!”

“yeah, me too, kiddo. me too.”

[piastappies]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 PUPPY LOVER GIRL! ᡣ𐭩ᯓ

summary. upon coming to the race with your little girl, oscar and you are facing a challenging situation as your daughter gets completely enamoured with every dog she sees.

notes. oscar piastri x leclerc!wife!reader. first osc fic!!! (the obsession is getting out of hand). also pls let me know if you’d like to read something else with dad!oscar. also got inspired by @eccentricwritingbaby’s series with dad!lando!!!! didn’t proofread (idc)

dressed in an orange shirt with her dad’s number on the back, little chloe was an absolute ray of sunshine, whenever you took her to the race, which, honestly, wasn’t such a common occurrence as some people expected. your little girl loved coming to the race, mostly because it was a chance for her to meet all her favorite uncles in one place, while watching the cars drive really fast, which always made her giggle a little, especially once she started to recognize oscar’s car amongst others. despite her obvious love for the event, she was still a toddler and dragging her every other week to the airport to go to another country was something you and oscar decided to push further in time.

nevertheless, you could deny your husband the happiness of his little girl’s presence at his home race. as much as you hated the thought of such a long flight with a toddler, because the nice to melbourne flight was never a short one without any layovers, and you really tried to stick to at least some of chloe’s day schedule. but in the end it was the pure happiness in your husband’s eyes, when you spent two weeks in his home country before a race.

with said mclaren shirt with piastri written on her back, chloe was happily skipping, holding oscar’s hand as she looked around her, until a small gasp slipped her lips, freezing in her tracks, causing you to stop as well, your forehead creasing with confusion until your eyes followed hers. a puppy — simba, to be precise.

at first you thought she was scared, when her eyes widened in shock and, as you wrongfully assumed, fear, but she was quick to reveal her true feelings. a shy smile crept onto her face as she looked at oscar, who crouched to be on the same level as her. “daddy. i pet puppy, please?” her baby voice often made you and oscar’s mom jokingly call her oscar whisperer, because if you weren’t there to keep him in check, baby piastri would get every single thing she looked at. “let’s ask auntie kika first, okay?” oscar’s face lit up with a warm smile as he gently fixed his daughter’s piggytails.

back in monaco, you had a few situations, where you could learn your daughter how to behave around animals and she was picking it up pretty quickly. as horribly as it sounds, leo, your brother’s dog, was… a bit of a guinea pig, but since chloe was a literal little angel, who was afraid of making anyone sad (hence you had to put a ban on buying plushies as gifts, because she wanted every single one to sleep with her to the point where there was no more room on the bed for her), so there were never any fur or tail pulling, screaming into poor dog’s ear or anything that could cause any harm to leo and in consequence, to chloe.

a happy grin was plastered on her face, when kika and pierre walked up to them first, the girl quickly started gushing about the adorableness of her favorite papaya girl. “i pet puppy, please? ‘tie kika?” the three years old asked, holding her hands behind her back. “i gentle.” she adds, pointing at herself as if kika wasn’t completely drowning in the cuteness of the situation.

“of course, pumpkin. simba really missed you.” she chuckles softly, the two of you watching as chloe starts petting the small dog with delicacy, babbling something slightly incoherent to simba, who tried licking her fingers as she giggled. “you should get her a dog.” your friend laughed softly, nudging you with her elbow.

“we’re thinking about it, but i don’t think it’s gonna happen in near future.” you replied, a small smile tugging on your lips as chloe was completely infatuated with simba. “she’s still a lot of work, and you know how it is during the season, it’d be even more exhausting than it is now.”

few minutes later, after a quick chat with kika as you were walking down the paddock, catching up with oscar, who had to take a quick call. before you know it, your daughter squeales happily as she lets go of your hand, starting to run away, before oscar scoops her up in his arms. “hey, you can’t do that, squish.” oscar said gently. “you almost gave us a heart attack. if you wanna go somewhere, you have to tell us, okay?”

“suis désolée, daddy.” chloe replied a bit sadly as she pulled out her bottom lip. “but…” she scrunched her nose, unable to form a proper sentence in one language. “c’est uncle charles.” i’m sorry/it is.

“you still gotta tell me or mommy first.” oscar reminded her firmly, her sad pout breaking his heart a little, so… to change that, he smothered her face in small, quick kisses, making the toddler squirm in his arms, giggling cutely. “okay, c’mon, let’s say hi to uncle charles.”

as soon as baby piastri’s feet touched the ground, she ran for her life towards charles, the red pins in her hair being a small symbol of support for one of her favorite uncles. she was about to take a leap and jump into the driver’s arms, when she abruptly stopped mid-way, her mouth forming into a big ‘O’, girl’s attention has shifted from one beloved uncle to another as the youngest leclerc brother appeared in the line of her vision.

“uncle a’tty!” chloe squeaked even louder than before, happiness overflowing her adorable expression. arthur chuckled, taking a few long strides towards the three years old, before picking her up and doing a small spin, his niece erupting into a fit of giggles.

“my uncle a’tty.” she beamed, her arms wrapped around his neck, nuzzling her cheek against his. you could tell that your older brother’s heart just melted upon hearing chloe’s words, while your other older brother felt like he got stabbed with a knife.

“not a hi to your other best uncle?” charles asked in almost a desperate tone to get some attention from his favorite (and only) niece. oscar, you and alex just rolled your eyes playfully at his antics. a flicker of hope spread on his face as your daughter perked up slightly and let out a gasp.

“uncle lan?”

“oh, c’mon, squish.” your brother sighed, running a hand through his hair. a silly smile appeared on chloe’s face as she made grabby hands towards charles, who got over his exasperation pretty quickly. “play with leo, please?” she asks with big eyes and before you knew it, chloe was happily babbling to the mini dachshund.

although, the biggest fun she always had was with roscoe. mostly, because whenever she was around him, he was the chillest dog on the planet earth. she loved leo and simba, but they were still puppies with lots of energy and as much it would seem like chloe would love that, but when it came to doggies, she loved to just sit next to them and pet them endlessly.

that’s what she loved, whenever oscar and you took her to a race, that sometimes, beside being a bubbly little girl, cheering for her favorite person in the world along her second favorite person in the world, she could spend the time cheering and spending time with her favorite animals, while also being blissfully unaware of the tormenting of her mom’s brother.

[mikashisus]

Maybe One Day

SYNOPSIS: kinich was sure about his feelings for you, and he was aware of the ones you harbored for him. yet, there’s one thing stopping him from telling you…

PAIRING: kinich x gn!reader

warnings: slight angst, subtle die jokes

wc: 1.6k

notes: mostly fluff, but u guys know me by now, i can’t ever write anything without angst in it. played thru a bit of the 5.0 quest (NO SPOILERS GUYS!!!!) and i actually love kinich sm. another one of those quiet but gentle characters (๑>◡<๑) reminds me a bit of xiao - and that’s not bc of the color scheme lol. anyw enjoy!

part 2!

Pen scratched loudly against paper as you eagerly jotted down more notes in your journal.

Early mornings high in the canopy of trees were serene and chilly. It was still a long while until the sun would rise, and when it did, you'd return to the villa the locals offered you and continue your work inside.

The sweltering heat of Natlan was nothing to scoff at. You've been to Sumeru before, where there was hot weather all year round. Yet, just when you had gotten used to the heat, the research for your thesis demanded you to go somewhere even hotter: Natlan.

You couldn't handle hot weather. Whenever the weather reached just above what one could describe as 'warm,' you felt like you were going to melt into a puddle on the ground. That's why you knocked out all of your research in the early morning, when it was cooler, and retired to your lodging after the sun rose so you could avoid a potential heatstroke.

Already, you began to feel a shift in temperature as dim light peered over the horizon. It was easy to see the sunrise from here, perched in this gargantuan tree.

It was peaceful up here, and it gave you a wonderful view of the whole of Natlan. You could see King Deshret's Mausoleum from this height, too, and you silently thanked yourself for not ever being interested in his ancient technology.

If you had to stay in the desert for a prolonged period of time, you would’ve found a hole to crawl in and never crawl back out.

On the way to Natlan six months ago, your escort told you that the only way to get there was through the desert. He knew of your great distaste for hot weather, and so he was fully prepared to hear you whine and throw a tantrum over the ordeal. However, instead, all you did was pout and tell him to get a move on and "get this over with."

A cramp formed in your hand, and you had to pause your note taking.

As you massaged your hand, you admired the first signs of light creeping over the horizon and allowed yourself to get lost in the sounds around you: Water rushing from the nearby waterfall, the chirping of birds, the rustling of foliage, and the bellowing of Yumkasaurs. You could faintly hear the whispers of the locals as they exited their houses, though their conversations were incoherent from this distance.

Although the weather was atrocious, you absolutely adored the sights and the sounds of Natlan. It felt lively and bright.

You opened your eyes and looked down at your journal. Five more paragraphs to go before you could rest for today.

"I was told you've been up here for quite a while," a soft voice interrupted, causing you to jump, "didn't I tell you to take more breaks, Northerner?"

Your lantern knocked over, and you quickly reached forward, catching it before it could fall victim to its inevitable demise in the valley below. You were incredibly high up. You could barely see the ground from here, much less where the waterfall beneath you ended.

Breathing a sigh of relief, you placed the lantern back at your side and turned to your visitor, who wore an amusing smirk on his face.

"And didn't I tell you not to sneak up on me like that, Kinich?"

The boy in question didn't answer you. Silently, he joined you at your side, and that was when you spotted the bowl of grainfruits he held in his hand. He offered it to you.

"Breaks are necessary, you know. Especially when working on research papers."

You took a bite out of one of the fruits and sighed. "I'm well aware. But I came here solely for my thesis, not for a vacation. Besides, if I was given a vacation, I probably would've chosen to go—“

"'Home'?" He finished. You nodded.

"Yeah. I would've gone home." Another sigh, longer this time, left your lips.

"You miss Mondstadt, then?" He asked, taking a bite out of a grainfruit and setting the bowl between you two.

"You bet I do!" you exclaimed, flipping back to the first page of your journal. Notes from your entire family occupied the page. You gently ran your fingers over them.

“Before I left Dornman Port, my family gave me this journal and told me to do great things in Sumeru. They even wrote me notes as a reminder to 'keep pushing when times get tough.’”

Your family knew you too well. They knew you were someone who pushed themselves way too hard— an overachiever.

Whenever you felt burnt out, you read their notes, and it gave you the motivation to keep going. To keep achieving great things. To seek the answer to what ‘freedom’ truly meant to you through your experiences.

Kinich was silent for a few moments. He was someone who preferred silence, and oddly enough, you were too. Though, it hadn't seemed that way when the two of you first met.

When you first met, you had just arrived in the settlement belonging to the Scions of the Canopy, and you were just about ready to collapse onto the ground because of heat exhaustion.

Thankfully, you were aided by not only Kinich— who happened to be nearby —but also a few others from his tribe. When you recovered, you complained to the high heavens about the heat, and Kinich was very close to dragging you up Teticpac Peak just to push you off. He already heard enough whining from Ajaw, he didn't need to hear more from a foreigner who never once stepped foot in Natlan.

He was fully prepared to ignore you from that day forward, only to become intrigued when he got a glimpse of your research.

Later, he was surprised to find out you were actually from Mondstadt, the Crown of the North. Not only that, but you were from the far, far north reaches of Mondstadt— Dornman Port —nearing the border of Snezhnaya; And suddenly, all your complaining about the weather made sense.

Although the two of you were mostly polar opposites, you became fast friends, and Kinich's favorite way to say hello was to sneak up on you when you least expected him to.

His interest in you eventually became noticeable to Ajaw, and as soon as that little yellow and green bastard pointed it out one night, Kinich knew he had to lock him away whenever you were near.

He couldn't risk the chances of Ajaw blurting it out in front of you.

He wanted to believe you felt the same way. After all, you would've gotten tired of him by now if you didn’t. That, or you might've stayed away from him simply because he looked a little intimidating. Either way, he was glad you stuck around.

He ignored the voice in the back of his head telling him you'd one day have to leave.

As soon as you wrapped up your research in Natlan, you'd have to return to Sumeru's Akademiya and continue on with your life. Maybe you'd even take a trip back home to Mondstadt to see your family and possibly even attend a festival.

He remembered hearing you talk about one of them, a seemingly important one. It was one that he couldn't pronounce for the life of him, but he loved hearing you say it because he liked hearing you speak in Mondstadt's language.

He wondered what a Statue of the Seven even looked like in Mondstadt. He had never seen any pictures of one, not even a picture of what Mondstadt's Archon looked like. From rumors, he heard the Anemo Archon was completely absent from Mondstadt, and you somewhat confirmed those rumors.

"I wouldn't say Lord Barbatos is completely absent," you said once when he asked, "we believe the wind in Mondstadt is Lord Barbatos himself. So with that logic, he's still with us, just not physically like other Archons."

You sighed softly, finishing off the last grainfruit in the bowl. "Thanks Kinich."

Sending him one of your dazzling smiles that always made his heart beat a little faster, you scooted closer to him and bumped his shoulder with your own.

He raised a brow in confusion. "What for?"

"Everything, I think…” You answered. “For helping me when I first arrived here, for always looking out for me... I'm really thankful."

He was silent, though you knew his silence was not him being dismissive. He was either pondering, or he just didn't know what to say in response.

Eventually, he wrapped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close. The sudden action made you tense up before you relaxed against him and rested your head on his shoulder.

The sun was rising over the horizon now, and you could deal with the rise in temperature for a while if it meant you got to stay like this with him.

"Don't thank me for anything." He said finally, under his breath.

Maybe one day, he'd tell you of his feelings, because now he was sure of how you felt towards him. But today was not that day.

Time was counting down to the day you had to leave, and he knew he wasn't ready for you to go so soon. Six months had come and gone in a flash.

It wasn't goodbye for good, as you swore you'd come back to Natlan the next time you had the chance— whether it be for research or for a much needed vacation. Yet, a goodbye, regardless of if it was a "see you later" or a proper "goodbye," it still hurt all the same.

Maybe one day, when the war in Natlan came to a close, you could show Kinich around your homeland, just as he did with you. But until that day came, Kinich would wait.

As long as it took. "As long as the wind blows," like you'd often say.

notes: i have a discord server! join if u’d like to chill and hangout! it’s fun, i promise :))

© 2024 mikashisus. do not plagiarize, copy, repost, feed to ai, or translate my works to any other platforms.

[sttoru]

‘your lover may not be the best in showing his affection for you, but when he does try, it’s always in the ways you least expect.’

☀︎｜tags. toji fushiguro x female reader. fluff, slight angst, suggestive. subtly implied age gap (reader early 20’s, toji early 30’s). size difference. mentions of hickeys. reader gets called ‘princess / little girl.’ based on an anon request.

“am home.” toji announces under his breath after locking the front door. he kicks his shoes off and makes a beeline towards your shared bedroom. as expected, you were there, body wrapped in a thick blanket to protect it from the recently cold temperatures.

you smile and toji’s fatigue becomes nonexistent. it was like he hadn’t just fought for his life for almost two hours straight — making money to quite literally survive. and to provide for you in the best way he could.

“ah, hi, babe! welcome hom—” your sentence was cut short by a heavy weight settling down atop your chest. toji’s body presses you back into the mattress, big hands instantly searching for their desired destination; that being your waist.

his warm breath - the heavy sigh that carried his worries - instantly softens the look in your eyes. it was this vulnerable side of your lover that you adored most. it wasn’t a sight you got to see often after all.

toji wordlessly attaches his lips to your exposed neck as he withdraws the blanket from your body. even though he has yet to utter a single word to you, his actions told you all, “missed you, toji.”

he mumbles something incoherent in response which you could guess were words of acknowledgement. you were ticklish, your skin tingling with every peck left by the dark-haired man whom you loved dearly.

“were ya waitin’ for me?” toji’s voice was muffled, his mouth busy kissing and sucking your skin. his rough fingers move under your clothes and run up to your shoulders—freeing them from the straps of your top.

you tilt your head to the right so he could gain more access to your skin. you didn’t protest nor said anything about toji’s sudden display of affection. you rub his back and allow a hum of satisfaction to escape your throat, “mhm. was waiting for you all night.”

your voice sounds like a soothing lullaby to the older man. a heavy breath leaves his lips and his sloppy kisses on your neck and shoulder blades abruptly come to a halt.

toji rests his head in the crook of your neck. the pad of his thumb travels up and down the marks he had left—his saliva subtly glistening under the light from the bedside lamp.

“tsk. i told ya not to stay up f’me, princess.” your lover grumbles with his tired eyes half-closed, fingers not stopping their rubbing motion, “but i guess there’s no point in tellin’ you that right now.”

toji still can’t understand why you go to great lengths to show your love for him. he’s a cold hearted assassin, a man whom is feared by many including his own clan and yet you love him unconditionally.

despite it all — he still appreciates the fact that you stay up to welcome him home. even if he may not directly show that said appreciation.

“‘i told ya not to stay up for me,’” you teasingly mimic toji’s deep voice and can only laugh at your own antics afterwards. however, a sudden pinch to your side makes you squirm and yelp. it didn’t stop there; toji took the opportunity whilst you were caged underneath him to remind you of who’s boss.

soon enough your high pitched squealing and broken giggles is all the noise that fills the room.

“whadd’ya say there, little girl?” toji grunts as he blocks your futile attempts to escape. he could see the tears gathering at the corners of your eyes, your body writhing around the best it could and your little hands trying desperately to push him away.

you shake your head and continuously apologise between loud giggles, vision blurry from the tears of joy. there’s a triumphant smirk on toji’s face once he notices how quickly you gave up your act of confidence, “heh, that’s what i thought.”

one of his hands gathers both of your wrists and effortlessly pins them above your head. with a grin, your lover kisses his way down to your neck again — this time being more passionate.

you take the chance to calm yourself down, chest still heaving with each breath. a pout forms on your lips, but was swiftly replaced by a content smile due to the giddy feeling in your chest.

it’s playful moments like these that remind you of the many reasons why you’ve fallen in love with a man like toji. to others, he might be nothing but a monster—a ruthless and cruel individual—but to you, he’s everything you need and vice versa.

toji’s lips were soft, yet lightly rough to the touch. they’re chapped from the cold temperature he had to withstand when he was outside. you felt bad; you had been laying in bed all night, wrapped up in multiple blankets whilst your lover was quietly suffering.

you know that if you tell toji your current worries, he’ll brush it off with a simple ‘tha’s just how it is’ or a ‘don’t worry ‘bout stuff like that’. still, you cannot help but be concerned about the way he easily disregards his own health.

“toji,” you call out his name as his kisses reach the curve of your breasts. the older man lifts his head in response, eyebrows slightly raised at the sound of his name leaving your lips.

you push down the lump in your throat. your warm hands cup his face and you could feel his stubble prickling your palms. you lower your gaze to the rest of his body — finally getting a good look at his worn out physique.

there were faint droplets of blood hidden right under the collar of his shirt. ones toji probably forgot to wipe away after his mission. his black shirt clings to his torso, the dark spots of sweat subtly evident and the small tears in the fabric proof of his hard work.

you could care less about the fact that toji hadn’t taken a shower before cuddling with you. the first thing he did when stepping into the apartment, was to search for you. that alone told you enough: he needed the comfort your presence brings him — he just didn’t know how to convey that message.

“kiss me.” you whisper and your lover immediately complies with zero hesitation; that’s exactly what he had waited for you to say. his lips crash down onto yours, his large hands hold you by your waist and his tongue brushes against yours like it was the first and last time you’d kiss.

toji’s breath hitches the moment he feels you tenderly scratch his arms with your nails. you always do that to calm his nerves after a stressful day—grazing the tips of your nails back and forth against his bare skin. and it works wonders each time.

“fuck,” the dark-haired man curses in a low tone. his grip tightens on your body and his lips detach from yours. you notice the look in his eyes once he opens them; the look of pure love for you, “i missed you so much — so fuckin’ much.”

you softly giggle at his passionate words and steal another kiss from him before settling back against the pillows. your hands travel upwards to play with his damp hair whilst your legs wrap around his waist.

toji gladly accepts your affection and settles down on top of your body again, careful not to completely crush you with his weight. his face was buried between your breasts, taking in the familiar scent of you which calms him down even more.

“i’m glad you’re back home.” you whisper lovingly whilst continuing to massage his scalp. your tired lover answers with a curt nod and a sigh — this time one of content instead of exhaustion.

“yeah, home.” toji wasn’t referring to your shared apartment. he was referring to you; his forever home. there was an overwhelming amount of love in his heart for you and only you.

if only he could properly express those feelings to you. if only he could express himself.

[kkukverse]

Put Your head On My Shoulder - drabble

Pair : husband!jk x wife!reader

wordcount : 2.6k

warning : sex scenes.

summary: Romantic dinner night gone wrong, and definitely right, too.

notes: just a short drabble for my cute couple. you can either read Put Your Head On My Shoulder first, or after this.

And they say romance is dead.

Not when your husband is dutifully taking you from behind. His sweaty body engulfing you as he keeps ramming his hips, the sounds of skins slapping vibrating in the whole house. Tomorrow would be a challenge to duck away from the neighbors before you go to work. You swear his sex drive lately is breaking the roof.

He was even wilder than when you were dating. Now with the ring on your finger and he is obsessed in claiming you every damn time he can. 

Jungkook is well aware of his high libido, and he is proud of his own body too. Gym hours are paying off, especially during this session. Cocky? Of course, when his body is well built only to be presented to you. His sturdy chest rose up and down with every deep breath he took, his long and strong legs planted firmly on the floor. 

The muscles on his thighs tense and abs clenching with how fast he moves his hips. Plummeting you forward with every push before he pulls you back on his cock, bending by the bed. Your hair sprawls as your face is completely smashed on the soft sheets. 

The white sheets. This one gotta go because it is completely ruined now. Stains of sweat and cum and drool are decorating the pristine white sheets and it was partially your fault. You adore white bedding set. They’re soft! 

But him, by the way he growls just now after you make a mess on them, you guessed he’s fine with any color as long as he can see the stain marks that were caused by you because of him. The sheet is crumpled and rustling from how hard you’re fisting them, a sign of how he’s doing an amazing job with you.

“Jung -nghhh- kook. Shit shit shit, babe slow down,” your whines were unfortunately muffled into the bed. He grunts and moans so loud, they’re drowning your pleads. 

Another sharp thrust makes you sob. Your face is facing sideways with whines begging incoherently to him. Not sure if you’re pleading for him to keep moulding his cock into your cunt, or to slow his pace because, honestly your mind is hazy. You’re sure he can’t understand you either. 

At this point all you can see is the bliss that you’re about to reach for the fourth time. A smack on your left buttcheek makes you jolt. Maybe he did hear you after all. He always did. As rough as he is right now, he is always attentive to you. Putting your needs first. Kneading the area that he smacked just now before he landed another one. Because that’s what you need and he knows it. 

The shades of your ass are already crimson and the two additional smacks did nothing but arouse him even more. Throwing his head back as his huge hand is gripping your delicate waist while the other one is roughly squeezing your ass. The marks of his hands are exactly where they belong.    

“So good baby, your ass is the best thing ever, thank god they’re mine. Right, baby?” He chuckles deeply. Only receiving chanted yes from you. He smiles triumphantly. Hands still gripping possessively, before he rubs the abused area. Gazing down on you like a predator on his prey.

He was moaning hard when his eyes landed on your face scrunching in pleasure. 

“Fuck,” he chocked. The way your brows knitted so hard, shutting your eyes tightly, mouth wide open as your sob in sync with every thrusts from him. Concentrating on reaching your climax. Beads of sweat on your forehead didn’t go unnoticed, he flopped down on your body. Littering kisses on your head softly, in contrast with the hardness of his cock pistoning in and out of your warm cunt.  

“Come on baby, one more time, ” Jungkook grunts from behind you. His fingers tucking away your hair that are sticking to your face. Slowing down his pace, he coaxes you. His other hand reaching for yours, fingers intertwining to ground you back to him. He fucks you real dumb this time. 

You’re not even realizing that your face is wet with not only sweat but also tears. They’re good tears and both of you know it. Sex with Jungkook will always be mind blowing to the point that it is normal when you’re crying. Jungkook can never get used to it though. He knows you, he memorized every inch of you, in and out. So, when he’s the one that makes you cry - even from pleasure - his heart hummed in worry. Kissing messily on your swollen lips as he is too focused on slowing down his abuse on your sensitive cunt. A mission that is so hard for him but anything for you. 

“Fuck,” you sobs even louder now, teeth gritting as he drags his cock so slowly, agonizing you even more. Since you can feel everything, from every rigged of his big cock, the veins that bulge, teasingly poking your spot, to the girth that deliciously stretches you open. 

Entering and leaving your fluttering lips but your cunt fights to keep it in. Sucking it back and clenching hard like a vice making his knees jerk. Planting his hand back on the bed. Supporting his weight because he doesn't want to crush you. “Baby,” he breathes. Now it’s his eyes that are shut tight.

“Move faster Kook, please, please, please,” you begged. Shamelessly whining like a brat by pushing your hip back to his. Wiggling your ass so you can fit him snugly in between your walls. He huffed loudly, getting all riled up at the way your jiggly ass is greedy. Biting his lower lips he pulls you up in one swift motion. “Ahhh- babe,” you whined and your hands struggled, reaching on to something to hold on. The pulls make his cock hit so deep, so sudden into you and your legs are failing you right now. Finally your hands landed on his arms that are wrapped around the middle part of your body protectively. 

“I love you baby, I fucking love you. So much, so much,” he chanted. 

His lips are back on your neck, biting the blossoming bruises, lapping on each mark he left. An act to distract you. His cock is still inside you, still rock hard. You swear you can feel it’s pulsating and twitching even when it’s too fit in your tight hole. Big dick husband? Fucking checked! You don’t even know how in the hell he is still hard after he’s been ramming you since forever. 

Coming home after work and seeing him cooking butt naked with only an apron to cover his manhood was a complete surprise. He was so busy chopping something and you don’t give a damn about anything else, eyes fixed on his plump yet firm ass. 

It was like your breath was taken away, the only sound that escaped your lips was a soft choke, so soft he didn’t even notice you’re behind him. You leaned closer silently before you pinched his ass. The moment he turns around, you instantly crush your lips onto his. Not even flinched at the sound of the knife that was slammed on the board. The heated lips clashing then lead you to not only one, not just two but three orgasms.  

The two of you now are facing each other as you sit on his lap. He moved you around as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

His cock is still buried inside you, balls deep with the way you’re chest to chest. His hands are rubbing mindlessly on your back while yours are busy with his hair, another makeout session to cool down before he goes at it again at full force. 

“Turn around baby, look at yourself,” he hums to you. In between biting your lower lips and sucking your tongue. You raised an eyebrow because you’re crazy comfortable now, the two of you can finish like this.

“Why,” you whined, pulling your lips to fully look at him.

“Because baby, you have to see how sinful you look right now. See yourself like how I'm seeing you right now,” he grins devilishly. Hands on your waist, pulling you so effortlessly before he set you back on his cock. Your back is facing him and without a beat he panted his lips at the juncture of your shoulder and your neck. 

“You’re so damn beautiful, baby. I can’t believe you’re all fucking mine,” he voice went low as his dark eyes looking at you through the mirror, devouring your whole figure.

Your eyes are rolling backward at the majestic view of your whole body, reflecting from the ceiling to floor mirror. The huge mirror was the reason why he insisted on buying this house. This is the purpose. To see you completely bare with your thighs quivering, the crotch that is glistening with your cum, his saliva and precum mixing together. He ate you so ferociously, sending you into another dimension just a moment ago. 

“So fucking wet, baby,” he whines, biting your shoulder. He is so close now. After being strained himself watching you orgasm three times, his cock is so hard and angry red. Begging for sweet release. But this is Jungkook, he wants more.

“Another one baby, cum again on my cock. Please,” his croaking voice whispers close to your ears as he lets you set your own pace riding him. Grips securely on your waist. 

Your sweaty palms on his thighs, balancing yourself as you diligently bounce up and down his shaft. You are now very determined to bring him to heaven. The telltale sign of him is close are his ragged breath, and he is starting to whine as he can get so vocal the closer he is to cumming. 

Jungkook is going crazy when he is looking at how you work so hard and you get even wetter with this position. Was it because of the mirror? Damn, he should’ve known this sooner. “Come on baby, that’s my good babygirl.” His cock is really about to burst if he doesn't cum now. 

At his praise you clench so hard, earning a deep guttural whine from him. 

“Baby, baby babygirl fuck,” he gruff, taking turn in slamming into you, “baby,l you gotta cum now,” he is moving so hard and fast, the reflection of his cock disappearing into you is blurring from the reflection. But the sight drives you so wild, trashing as you’re one step closer to cumming. He suddenly flick your clit with his thumb and the knot in your belly just snapped.

“Koo, ahhh- I’m cumming!” You screamed at the overstimulation. Hand moves back to grab his hair. 

“Me too, babygirl, me too. Let’s do it together baby, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He growls, as your walls clench sporadically on his cock. His rhythm falters as he is chasing his climax. Blowing his loads deep into your pussy. Jets of cums keep shooting until it spills when he moves his shaft, milking everything.

“Oh, babe I love you. So many cum,” you sobs. 

“I love you too. They’re saved for you baby, yours only,” he chuckles. The two of you are still on cloud nine but he holds you safely on his lap. 

Out of nowhere a beeping sound jolted the both of you. You look at him questioningly through the mirror and before he can react your nose catches on smoky smells. Your cat is meowing.

“Holy shit!” He gently moves you from his lap before he bolts out of the room, still butt naked, dick is still so freshly wet. You were left dumbfounded on the bed, immediately grab his oversize shirt. 

In the span of milliseconds in between him running out of the bedroom to the second when you put on the shirt all you heard was a screaming from him and clutter of something falling. 

“Jungkook?!” You panicky calling for him as you can’t see clearly, there’s smoke in the house! Something is burning! You ran to the source of his desperate wailing. Your eyes went wide at him crouching on the floor. The chicken in the pan is on the floor as well and the sauce splatters to the lower cabinets. Your main attention is Jungkook as he is grunting and screaming.

“Babe, what the fuck happened? Jungkook!” You kneel next to him, pulling his body to see if he’s hurted himself. His hands are clasped on his manhood. 

“Baby, my dick!!!” Jungkook sobs. His face scrunching in pain. Eyes shut tight. 

“What?!” You screamed back at him. The smoke isn’t helping either as the smoke detector keeps beeping. It’s so loud. You grabbed the napkin as you swatted it around to blow away the smoke. 

The beeping stopped but your husband is still in pain. Your eyes soon caught the open oven and your mind is connecting the dots. 

“Jeon Jungkook! Did you open the oven with your dick out like that?!” You were trying so hard not to laugh because he’s in pain but he is such an idiot. Of course the steam will rush out when you open it and he is dumb enough to flash his dick at the oven. Inviting his own torture. 

“Baby! It's not funny. It burns!” He cried. You on the other hand is, muffling your own laugh with your hand, failing miserably. You helped him up to lay on the couch. Going back to the kitchen to wet a clean napkin. 

“Put this on your dick,” you instruct him. Even if it is so hilarious, you have to take care of him now. 

“Put it on for me. It burns, please,” he pouted. Where was the Jungkook that rammed you with no mercy just now? Who is this kid? Rolling your eyes, you gently soothe the area by wiping the cold napkin. 

“Are you feeling okay now?” You asked him. Your free hand wipes away the sweat on his forehead, fingers softly running through his hair. He even styled his hair today, aww but you ruined it.

“I was planning on making you a romantic dinner,” his lower lip jutted out childishly. Sulking because his plan didn’t work out the way he wanted. “Not making a mess and burning my dick,” he continued with an even softer voice. He hates making mistakes, but Jungkook is just very sensitive. He puts his heart into everything, especially for his wife. 

“Okay, I’m gonna stop you right there.” You face him, “first of all, thank you baby you’re so sweet for preparing dinner for me, second, you just blew my mind away in our bedroom just now. We need to focus on you now, and your little friend here.” You pointed. Smiling at him but his eyes are still downcast. 

“But it’s supposed to be a romantic dinner, it’s different,” he mumbles.

“C’mon Kook, don’t be discouraged. Everyday is romantic when I’m with you.” You bopped his nose. His eyes are slowly growing big at your words. 

“Really?” he asked. 

You laughed at him acting all shy now, when he is naked on the couch and you’re literally rubbing wet napkins on his dick. His big body doesn’t even match with the pouting face he is sporting right now. 

“Yes, you silly,” you kissed him. A meowing was heard as the cat was staring at you from his napping spot. 

“Turn away! Momma and daddy are busy,” Jungkook pointed his finger to your cat, as if the cat understands.

[mephisto-reporting]

I Love You: Rafayel Edition

Premise:

Trope: Pure fluff Pairing: Reader x Rafayel Note: Reader and the men are NOT in a relationship. but there is implied mutual attraction.My inbox is open for prompts and requests :)

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition

The door to Rafayel’s art studio creaked open with a low groan, revealing the delightful chaos you’d come to expect from him. The smell of turpentine and drying paint hung in the air, mingling with the faint trace of his cologne, still clinging to the fabric of his draped coats scattered across the furniture. Brushes were strewn across the floor like forgotten soldiers, and streaks of bright reds, blues, and golds marred every surface they could reach. His easel stood near the large bay window, bathed in the warm light of the setting sun, but the canvas was blank—typical.

Your lips curved into a fond smile as you carefully balanced the takeaway bag in your hands, its fragrant contents filling the room with the rich aroma of saffron butter lobster, a delicacy Rafayel adored. You'd made the extra effort to get it from his favorite little corner bistro across town, knowing how particular he was about its preparation. You could almost taste it yourself, though you knew the real joy would come when you saw his face light up in surprise. The food was just the excuse; it was your way of showing you cared, in the only way you knew how.

Everything about this place felt so distinctly him: vibrant, alive, chaotic—and somehow, it always made your heart feel at ease. On days when the world seemed too heavy, when exhaustion clung to your bones like a second skin, or even on days when your heart was full to bursting with happiness, this was where you found yourself.

“Rafayel!” you called, your voice carrying through the disarray.

There was no response at first, just the faint rustling of papers somewhere deeper in the studio. Then, a muffled voice, drowsy and half-hearted: “Mmm… what is it? Just leave it on the counter…”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the soft laugh that escaped you. “You know, one of these days, I’m going to walk in and find you buried under all this paint,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, as you set the bag on the counter in the tiny kitchen space, careful not to knock over an open jar of brushes.

You made your way toward his bedroom, following the source of his sleepy mumblings. The door was slightly ajar, and when you pushed it open, your heart stuttered in your chest.

There he was, curled up under a rumpled duvet, his face half-buried in the pillow, soft wavy locks falling haphazardly across his forehead. He looked peaceful, his usual sharp edges smoothed out in the quiet vulnerability of sleep. The rise and fall of his chest was steady, rhythmic, lulling you into a moment of stillness. Your heart gave a little lurch, and your fingers twitched with the need to touch him, to just feel close to him for a second. You slowly crossed the room, the soft creak of the floorboards under your feet the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Rafayel didn’t stir, still lost in the depths of his sleep.

“Rafayel,” you whispered gently, your voice barely above a breath, not wanting to disturb the peaceful moment too harshly. He didn’t respond. Not even a slight shift in his posture. He was deep in sleep, completely oblivious to the world around him.

You crouched beside the bed, your hand hovering above his arm, hesitating for just a moment before you placed it gently on his shoulder. The warmth of his skin radiated beneath the fabric of his shirt, and your heart skipped a beat at the feel of him—so close, so tangible. Your touch was soft, just a light shake, meant to wake him without startling him too much.

But still, he didn’t wake. He just shifted slightly, mumbling something incoherent, his voice thick with sleep. You couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips as you watched him, your heart swelling in your chest. This was him. Carefree, a little bratty, but so easy to fall for. Even when he was asleep, you could see that side of him that you adored so much—the part of him that no one else saw.

“Rafayel,” you repeated, a little more insistently this time, brushing a strand of his hair away from his face as you leaned down slightly. His features softened in his sleep, and for a moment, you simply watched him, breathing in the quiet, wishing you could keep him here, in this moment, forever.

He remained blissfully unaware, sinking deeper into his cocoon of blankets, a faint sigh escaping his lips. You huffed a quiet laugh, feeling the corners of your eyes prickle with emotion. The intimacy of the scene, the quiet domesticity of it, filled you with an aching sort of joy and longing.

You really were in love with him.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say it. The words tangled themselves in your throat, caught between fear and hope. What if he dismissed it with one of his trademark teasing quips? Or worse, what if he didn’t feel the same way?

But as you sat there, watching him sleep so peacefully, you couldn’t help but wonder—what if he did?

Sighing lightly, you shifted closer and sat at the edge of the bed, carefully brushing your fingers along his cheek. The familiar feeling of his soft skin, the heat of his presence even in sleep, made your chest tighten. You found yourself gazing at him, heart aching with the truth you hadn’t yet dared to voice.

This was it, wasn’t it? This was the moment. The moment you had been waiting for, even though it scared you.

You hadn’t planned for it. The words hadn’t been rehearsed in your mind, but they slipped out anyway, so natural and so real, as if they had always been waiting to be said.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible, yet full of every emotion you had kept hidden for so long.

The words hung in the air, soft as the warm glow of the setting sun that filtered through the cracks in the blinds. I love you. The phrase had slipped from your lips almost without thinking, like it was always meant to be said in that moment. But as soon as they left you, your heart thudded in your chest, as if it recognized the enormity of the confession you had just made.

Your breath caught in your throat as a wave of panic washed over you. Had he heard? Had you really just said it out loud? The room suddenly felt too small, too intimate, as if the walls were pressing in, waiting for him to react.

You stood up quickly, a quiet flush creeping up your neck as you considered leaving the room before he could tease you about it—before the reality of your feelings could settle in. You didn’t know what you were expecting, but the last thing you anticipated was the sudden, sharp tug on your wrist.

With a startled yelp, you were pulled back onto the bed, landing softly on the plush duvet. A laugh—half playful, half lazy—escaped from Rafayel’s lips as he wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you snugly against him. His warmth enveloped you instantly, and his body pressed close behind you as he spooned you, his breath hot against your neck.

Your heart raced in your chest, pounding like a drum as your mind scrambled to catch up. He heard.

“I heard that,” he said, his voice low and controlled, a smirk lacing his words. There was no teasing, no mockery, just the barest trace of something... softer. “You… love me.”

You tried to pull away, your chest tightening, but his arm was an unyielding weight, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. His fingers tightened around your wrist, holding you gently but firmly against him.

You froze, your heartbeat echoing in your ears as your skin prickled with both warmth and nervousness. You hadn’t thought he had heard it, not with how quiet it had been, how small your voice had been. You swallowed, unsure of what to say.

"Y-you were dreaming," you muttered, though it didn’t sound convincing even to your own ears.

He chuckled softly, a sound that sent shivers through you. The next words that left his mouth were not teasing, not playful, but serious—intentional. "Then why does your heart feel like a fish swimming away in a current?"

The question was simple, but it made you freeze, your breath hitching as the truth of your feelings settled like a heavy weight in your chest. You couldn’t deny it. Not to him. Not anymore.

Before you could respond, his arm wrapped around you more tightly, pulling you closer until you could feel the steady beat of his heart against your back. His face pressed into your hair, his breath warm against your scalp as he inhaled deeply, as if memorizing your scent.

He stayed there for a long moment, his body a comforting, grounding presence behind you. Then, with a soft, almost playful command, he spoke again.

“Say it again,” he whispered, his voice a little rough. “Say it again. I want to be sure.”

Your pulse raced. This was real now. There was no going back. His words, his presence, made the room feel smaller, but somehow safer, as if the world outside didn’t matter at this very moment.

You inhaled shakily, turning your head slightly to meet the fabric of the pillow, and in a breathless whisper, you said it again.

“I love you.”

The words felt different this time—stronger, more sure. As soon as they left your lips, you felt his arms tighten around you, pulling you into his chest as if he never wanted to let go. He buried his face in your hair once more, his lips brushing against your ear.

"It took you long enough to admit it,” he teased, his voice laced with a bratty affection. “I’ve been waiting to hear that, you know."

You laughed softly, a nervous, relieved sound that trembled at the edges, but his tone shifted, the playfulness slipping away. His voice dropped to something much softer, much deeper, as he whispered against your ear. "But I've been waiting to hear that... for so long. Waiting to hear you."

Your chest tightened, and you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin, his heart steady and strong beneath you. “I love you too, so so much. You have no idea the things I would do for you... to keep you like this., in my arms.” he said, so quietly, as though he hadn’t said it out loud for fear of it being taken away, yet there was no doubt in his voice, no hesitation.

You didn’t know how long the silence stretched between you, but it felt like time itself had slowed to a crawl. The only sound in the room was the rhythm of your breathing, and the sound of your two hearts beating in perfect harmony, as if they had always been meant to beat together.

But you shifted, just a little, as if instinctively trying to move, to pull away—something in you telling you to give him space, even though you didn’t want to. He wasn’t having it.

"I’m not letting you go anywhere, cutie…" Rafayel murmured, his voice low and possessive. You were about to protest, to say something, but before you could, he tugged you even closer, trapping you against him, his arm locking around you like a vice. You felt a surge of warmth sweep through you, a sudden softness, and his voice came again, teasing, but this time with a gentle, almost adoring lilt.

"You can be my plushie for tonight," he said, a playful, lazy grin creeping into his tone, even though the words were laced with the kind of affection you rarely saw from him. "And the next night...and the night after...and forever more."

You didn’t argue. You didn’t want to. For tonight, for as long as this moment lasted, you could stay here, wrapped in his warmth, his scent, his arms.

And as you settled back against his chest, your heart still fluttering, you knew, with complete certainty, that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

AN: reblogs, feedback and opinions are appreciated!

Sylus Edition | Rafayel Edition | Xavier Edition | Zayne Edition

[keferon]

Sorry in advance for the word vomit but. I love the whole Jazz-and-Prowl figuring out the language barrier but also consider:

They don't.

Prowl's been captured by Quintessons and is currently thinking of ways to completely scrape his processor so they can't get any useful data, only to get rescued by a random mech. They fight their way out (the mech is extremely proficient in combat). At first he thinks it's a drone- it looks at him when he asks questions but doesn't answer (responds to noise, not language), it is sparkless (not alive) and it makes random but entirely incoherent noises and doesn't even ping (not able to communicate). Prowl has no idea what's going on but he's too injured to make it back to base alone and it's helping him? So. He chalks it up to some waylaid stealth military asset and tries to think of ways to both get it back to base whilst also making sure it's not some sort of Quintesson Trojan-horse [10%].

Meanwhile, Jazz was sent to blow up a Quintesson command camp by his organisation but instead he got thrown through a weird portal, and found a pilot all tied down and probably being tortured so naturally he busted him out but uh. He has no idea what the other is saying. He's talking in total tonal gibberish. Not that he's judging, he's heard some stuff about how far other piloting programs are willing to go to advance neural technology. And his face! He has one! A handsome one. Must be some advanced shit because he's got micro expressions and he's using them to frown as him. Anyways, Jazz's got bigger fish to fry. The sky's a different colour, there are two suns and atmo is reading terribly low levels of O2. Maybe he and this pilot got thrown into an alien planet? Cool- well, actually pretty bad but hey they're in this together.

Prowl knows by models that they're bound to run into another Quintesson patrol eventually, and based on the drones alertness to its surroundings, his previous observations to its capacity to fight, and how it doesn't stray to far from him, if patrol numbers are favourable [1-8 range] they can survive [70, .5]% the route back to base. But the drone is reckless and abandons him to the melee (how can a drone be reckless?) and Prowl gets injured worse. Energon drips from wounds, and the angle makes it challenging for him to patch it. But the drone creeps closer, folds to its (knees? Its joints are in an odd but effective configuration) and gently (gently?) begins to mimic (clumsily) Prowl's motions of patching his wounds. Here is where Prowl falters, because drones are not so careful. Drones do not do not look up multiple times at his faceplates, and become more delicate when they see you in pain. Drones don't hold out a servo and help you to your pedes when your done. Which begs the question, if he's not a drone, so what has been done to this mech?

Jazz on the other hand is freaking the fuck out. Naturally. Because uh, he started slicing Quints, expecting Frowny to do the same because his mech was still clearly operational, only for the idiot to completely disregarded normal combat standards which can be summarised as 'fight hard or die' and instead get chewed on by some big ass teeth.

Only to see the glowing purple dripping from his torn sides, only to see that he's bleeding.

Machines don't bleed.

So Jazz figures out Frowny is an alien first. He starts pointing at himself and saying his name, insistently, until Frowny repeats it. He points at Frowny, and records and replays whatever sound bite Frowny makes until Frowny's also nodding in confirmation. He still calls him Frowny, because even though he has his name? Probably? He has no idea what it means and can't actually pronounce it (no idea how to get a mouth to move that way) but hey! Progress! He does this again and again with small things (rock, hand, cyber?animals, music (Frowny's confused at that one it's pretty adorable) ect.

Prowl has no idea what to make of this strange mech. Is he a failed experiment? A runaway from Cybertron following the Functionalists rise or power? Thennn Prowl finds out one fateful night that the mech is actually an alien organic (in a fit of misunderstandings, and squeezes him pretty hard for it ouch and feels SO guilty about it later) and suddenly the language/culture barrier makes way more sense.

Prowl's injuries degrade (a line splits). He has no way to communicate this except for the energon dripping out of his chassis. The organic is clearly worried (how did he think he was ever sparkless), and Prowl can't reach the injury himself. So he guides the mech's servos past armour and wiring, down to protoform (near his sparkchamber) to the split line. Gestures and hopes the mech can figure out what to do from his miming[#^%]. That'll he'll be careful, and won't hurt him [5%, 87%, #*%, *########%].

Frowny is later picking shrapnel stuck in his forearm that's too small for him to remove, so Jazz gets out of his mech to help with his small human hands. Jazz has no way to communicate to Frowny that if he moves, he'll sheer Jazz's limbs clean off, but he goes in anyway, because Frowny's hurt, and speckled in blood. Because he's clearly struggling and hurt and tired. Because Jazz has to trust that he won't.

Frowny's injures eventually make him collapse, and Jazz carries him the rest of the way. Jazz has no idea how they'll be received (especially considering how Frowny reacted when he found out Jazz was organic). Jazz knows he might be dissected. Knows he might be pulled apart (again) but.

He remembers all the little moments they had on their journey (Frowny shielding him from falling rubble when Jazz was out of his mech once, them getting to gesticulating arguments, Frowny's reaction to his music, how he fell asleep on Jazz once and it was fricken adorable).

It doesn't matter that Jazz can't say (barely understands) his actual name. That Frowny probably doesn't understand his. It doesn't matter that they talk in halting miming, in broken sound clips and touches and half-glares.

He's already gone out on all his limbs, might as well put his head on the chopping block. And if it causes him to lose the damn thing, well.

He's a pilot. Dying horribly is practically his job description.

OOOUUUUGGGGGHHHHHHHHH DYING HORRIBLY IS PRACTICALLY HIS JOB DESCRIPTION,,,,,,,,,,,

[hazzashouse]

Coming Home to You (Harry Styles x Y/N)

A/N: Damn, it’s been a long time… I know. But I’m planning on coming back here so if any of you have a request for a one shot - hmu!

Summary: Harry comes home late from the studio, guilt-ridden after missing a planned movie night with Y/N.

Triggers: none, just fluff

The faint sound of Harry’s key turning in the lock echoed through the quiet apartment. He stepped inside, pulling the door closed softly behind him. The lights were dim, just the soft golden glow of the lamp on the side table casting shadows across the living room. Harry set his bag down, brushing a hand through his tousled curls, and sighed.

It had been another long day in the studio, and while he loved making music, he hated how much time it took him away from you. Especially tonight.

He glanced at the couch and stopped in his tracks. There you were, curled up in one corner, wrapped in the blanket you always brought out when the weather turned chilly. Your head rested on a throw pillow, and your hand dangled over the side of the couch, still loosely clutching the remote. On the coffee table in front of you was an untouched bowl of popcorn and two empty glasses of water, condensation gathering at the rims.

Harry’s heart clenched as he took in the scene.

You had waited for him.

Guilt washed over him as he remembered how excited you’d been when you suggested having a movie night earlier that week. You’d texted him earlier in the day, confirming your plans, and he’d sworn up and down he’d be home in time. But recording ran late—again—and now, here you were, fast asleep, the movie you’d both planned to watch long forgotten.

He knelt down by the couch, careful not to wake you. Your face was soft and serene in the glow of the lamp, and he couldn’t help but reach out to gently brush a stray lock of hair from your face. You stirred a little, but didn’t wake, murmuring something incoherent as you snuggled deeper into the blanket.

“God, I’m so sorry, love,” Harry whispered, his voice thick with regret. “I didn’t mean to miss it.”

He stayed there for a moment, just watching you, his heart swelling with a mix of love and guilt. It amazed him how patient you were with him, how understanding. He knew it wasn’t easy being with someone whose schedule was as unpredictable as his, yet you never complained. You always found ways to make him feel loved, even when he didn’t deserve it.

Determined to make it up to you, Harry slid his arms beneath you—one under your knees and the other supporting your back. He lifted you gently, holding his breath when you stirred again.

“Harry?” you mumbled, barely awake, your voice soft and heavy with sleep.

“Shh, darling,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve got you.”

You relaxed in his arms, nuzzling your head against his chest, and he felt his heart melt. The small, sleepy gesture reminded him of just how much he adored you. He carried you down the hallway to your shared bedroom, using his foot to push open the door.

Once there, he laid you down on the bed as carefully as he could, pulling the blanket up over you. He lingered for a moment, tucking it around your shoulders and brushing another kiss across your temple.

“You’re too good to me, you know that?” he whispered, his voice barely audible in the quiet room. “I promise, I’ll make it up to you.”

He slid into bed beside you, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. You sighed contentedly in your sleep, unconsciously leaning into him, and Harry smiled.

Tomorrow, he’d wake up early and surprise you with breakfast in bed. He’d let you pick the cheesiest rom-com you wanted to watch, and he’d sit through every second of it without a single complaint.

But for now, he held you close, grateful for the small, quiet moment of simply being with you.

[dmitriene]

simon riley and cat hybrid darling during tender sex, you're still pregnant, baby bump round and noticeable, always reminding of the fact that you carry little kids inside of you, and he needs to be really careful with you, especially when you so fuzzy and soft at the edges, his precious girl.

his burly hips rolling forward, thick cock sliding inside your soppy pussy inch by inch, feeling the scorching tightness of your little cunt, so messy with glossy folds that envelop his fat girth, strings of your cloying slick making him stuff you full in a short time.

you gaze at him with glossy eyes, lips opened slightly with little mewls slipping out, your pretty kitten ears pressed fluttering and your fluffy tail brushing against the sheets beside you, when simon tickles it, making your tail bump against the mattress and wrap around his hand, pulling a small smile to his thin lips.

he fucks you with shallow thrusts, but they reach so deep, bulbous tip spilling precum and pressing against your sweet spot, making you claw at the sheets and rumble with pleased purrs, there's no belly bulge, containing that you have a big tummy now, but you both know he's deep, especially when simon rubs at your pubic bone.

calloused hands all over the soft curves of your body, plump tits that look heavy, making you hum and moan with syrupy little sounds as simon toys with your pebble nipples, rubbing little circles and pinching them lightly, enough for your gooey cunt to start pulsing, little nub throbbing for some attention, as he places his thumb at your clit and rubs.

you're the most angelic thing for him, holding onto your bump and lolling your head aside, just laying there with small, incoherent whimpers escaping your lax mouth, simon's palms pawing at your round hips when he thrusts a little deeper, a bit rough, but you erupt in sparks of sizzling pleasure, toes curling adorably as you cum around his cock so suddenly.

whining for him, reaching with your hands towards his body, and he leans to smother your warm face with sloppy kisses, as he slowly humps your creamy pussy, chasing his own orgasm while you rub your face against his, loud purrs and happy mewls ringing right against his ear.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[cherryredstars]

you know what season it is!!! back shots in a sundress with no panties!! i strongly request rich people private beach sex! boat sex! rich sugar daddy husband who is never really home but when he is he WRECKS your body!!

Pairing(s): Miguel O'Hara, Simon Riley, John Price x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Penetrative Sex, Public Sex, SugarDaddy!Characters, Simon isn't gentle in this one (sorry!)

A/N: My favorite season!!!!

Unedited

| SIMON "GHOST" RILEY: CAKE BY THE OCEAN

He can't help himself when his pretty baby is all dolled up for him.

You got that cute little sundress he bought you on, letting out little giggles every time the wind picks up and you have to hold your dress down like the better version of Marilyn Monroe. He doesn't understand why you do it though. You're the one who begged him to take leave so the two of you can spend the warm weather at the beach house, wanting to spend time on the private beach. Plus, if you really cared about decency, you wouldn't have left without panties. He thinks you're adorable, clueless to the fact that you've flashed him a handful of times already.

But maybe that's part of some secret plan you've been plotting. especially when you pout at him and demand he let you rub sunscreen all over his body.

I just don't want your scars to get irritated, Si.

He thinks your a fucking liar. How else would that explain the way you so willingly sprawl out on the beach blanket you've brought along, your bare ass exposed to him as your dress is bunched around your waist. In the sun, he can see your dripping cunt glistening with arousal. He fucking loves the pretty gasps you let out when the wind fans over your folds, a tiny plea for him to stop his teasing following after. His poor, spoiled baby, so desperate to have a different kind of fun at the beach.

He doesn't care for the beating sun burning his back as his thick cock slides through your puffy folds, more focused on the way your insides are a thousand times hotter. The only thing he needs coating his skin is your sticky arousal as it drips around his cock, a foamy ring of white forming at his base as he thrusts into you. He hates sand, but he doesn't mind the way it gets on the blanket as you pull on it, crying and hiccuping at him how it's too much.

"Si! It's too hot, I'm getting all gross and sweaty!" You sob out, teary eyes looking back at him.

He coos at your cries, giving your ass a hard smack before rubbing the pain away. You could have just told him you needed something to help you cool down. He's more than happy to help as he licks over your skin, his saliva coating your neck and shoulder blades. You taste like the sun and sweat, and he knows that after his he'll need to eat out that pretty pussy of yours to see how they add to your addictive taste.

He must have spoiled you too much, rolling his eyes as you start complaining about how sticky your skin feels with his spit drying on you. He shuts you up with a few punishing thrusts, only tolerating your incoherently wobbly moans and cries. He grits his teeth when he feels his high peaking, swiftly pulling out of you with a groan as he hot seed shoots onto your back. It darkens the fabric of your dress, pearly lines sitting on your sparkling skin.

Simon chuckles as you whine under him, his rough hands rubbing his cum over your skin in a thin layer.

"Gotta make sure your pretty skin is nice and coated, love."

His cum looks close enough to sunscreen, anyways.

| MIGUEL O'HARA: HANDS ON THE WHEEL

"Keep 'er steady, baby."

You only moan back in reply, your hands tightening around the wheel. Your hands are sweating from the sun's heat and from the heat radiating off of Miguel's body as he thrusts into you. The sound of your wet cunt is drowned out by the sound of the ocean, but Miguel is more concerned about the ocean of wetness that gushes around his cock. Your grip on the wheel has nothing on the vice grip your pulsating walls have on his cock.

His large hands reach up, his chest pressing against your sweaty back as his hands cover yours. He guides your hands slightly to keep the wheel straight, his thrusts not stopping. He's trying to teach you how to steer the boat through groans, and you only moan and whine in response as your mind gets consumed by the way his cock drills into you. Miguel curses when your grip on the wheel slips, your body falling forward as your orgasm crashes into you and the wheel spins quickly out of control.

His hand instinctively clasps around your neck to keep you from hitting your head on the wheel, making your back arch as he pulls you close to him as his other hand works to fix the wheel. His cock slips out of you, the ends of your fluttery dress pushing over his angry tip. He grunts as he thrusts his cock into your back, groaning as he spurts hot strings of pearly white dampen the back of your dress. You babble as you come down, feeling the wet parts of your dress starting to cling to your skin.

"Didn't I tell you that ya'gotta be careful while at the wheel, mi vida?"

Well, whose fault is that.

| JOHN PRICE: PRETTY HOUSEWIFE

This by far is his favorite part of coming home.

He loves getting home after a rough deployment, only to find his pretty little wife waiting dutifully at home for him. You treat it like a special occasion, making his favorite meals in that cute little apron and sundress that has his cock throbbing. You're so good to him. It's only right that he shows his appreciation with a good fucking.

He doesn't care if his hot plate of food is getting cold as he bullies his cock into your needy hole. You're so tight from not being filled with his cock for so long, your fingers not stretching you out the way his fat cock can. Your little moans and cries of his name are the only nourishment he needs at the moment. His pretty little wife takes him so well.

"Looks so gorgeous f'me like this, doll." John grunts at you, chuckling at the way your walls flutter around him.

This is by far the greatest way to be welcomed home, and of course he's gotta give you the first of many gifts he's got you while he was away. He groans low and deep as he shoots the build-up of cum that's been sitting painfully in his balls, watching as it gushes around his cock as your pussy gets stuffed full. You look so pretty sitting across from him in that sundress, trying to keep as much cum as possible in your snug cunt as he finally digs into his home-cooked meal.

No way in hell he'd let his seed go to waste.