#Kos writes

[otiksimr]

Secretkeeper Drabble

Word count: 881

There’s probably a lot of mistakes in this wa…

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Secretkeeper had her doubts when she saw the egg, silver and glittery under the moonlight.

Maybe it was just an odd large stone, or maybe it was a rainwing egg that had rolled its way out of its nest. By all accounts she's never actually seen a rainwing egg before, but they had to be bright, right? She had scrounged around the area where she remembered leaving her egg in, no dark, sad gray egg to be found. All paths lead to this shiny silver thing being hers unless a predator snatched the real egg up or some dumb rainwing mistook hers for its own.

And her own instincts have been rather sure that it was hers, or it had just decided that any remotely egg shaped thing was something worth looking after. She had thoughts of this being a mistake, sure she wanted her child to stay away from all the brainwashing back at the island and stay even farther away from the constant looming threat of the volcano. But even so at least Secretkeeper would have the insurance of other nightwings, how at the very least the hatchling in some way would be safe from the outside world. There were at least no predators, or any tribes lingering around at the island.

And the child would have other nightwings there to look after them, they could have friends there. They wouldn’t be lonely.

Secretkeeper pondered and pondered as she held the ‘egg’ in her talons, staring down at it as she was weighing her options. Whether or not she should just keep it here or fly back to the volcano with it, tell everyone the truth and admit to all the lies she had told them. Admit that all the times she went to scavenge around the rainforest she’s actually been checking up on her egg.

But today was the day it would hatch. It wouldn’t be safe to fly around with an egg about to burst open at any second. But it also wouldn’t be safe to leave a little hatchling to be out on their own in a dangerous forest with beasts and other tribe dragons. Especially those little scavengers wrangling about. But they also would be fed all the time with all the little animals and fruit just lying around. They wouldn’t have to constantly worry about a volcano exploding at any second, they wouldn’t have to breathe in smoke for their entire lives. And if they hid well enough they wouldn’t have to worry about any animals snatching them.

The rainforest was far colder and likely more dangerous than the volcano but at least there were ways to work around the danger, there was lava everywhere at the island, and the threat of eruption was constant.

Secretkeeper’s thoughts had been interrupted as she felt the egg move in her talons, cracks forming as slowly but surely the shell split apart. She stared at it, wide eyed and filled with wonder. She’s been to hatchings before, but this one. This was hers.

As it continued to shake and break apart, chirps came out from it. Quiet, small little noises. As the shell continued to crack all around, the little hatchling inside fighting their way out. Secretkeeper continued to stare as the egg hatched in her talons, the cracks continuing to form around the side of the egg.

Until eventually, a little hatchling made its- her way out.

Secretkeeper has seen hatchlings before. They were always the color of rock or smoke, sometimes even lava. Various shades of gray with some red here and there. But out of all those hatchlings, out of all the dragonets of the tribe. She can't think of one that’s had even a single star on them.

Her little hatchling, dark scaled and round, tiny little wings that would flap in earnest as she squeaked up at Secretkeeper. Even with how dark her scales were they had swirls of color in them, most noticeably hues of greens and blues, not unlike a galaxy. Actually, as Secretkeeper glances up at the sky and back down at her hatchling, they looked quite alike. It was as if a piece of the night sky had fallen down.

And the stars, she harbored so many of them. Little specks of silver all across her body. With as much as she’s seen and known, stars were only present on nightwings who’ve ventured outside of the volcano frequently like the ones tasked with surveying the rainforest. But even then, none of them ever had this many. The stars they had were always sparse, few to the point where they would be easy to count in quick succession.

But her little one had so many, a freshly hatched dragonet with so many stars, it was almost mesmerizing to look at. A little galaxy in her talons.

Her little Moon.

[rs-hawk]

Dragon pinning you down by the throat with their claws and using you as a flesh light. Chuckling at your mewling and whimpering. Telling you how sure they are that you can take more when you cry out it’s too much. Praising and degrading you for each orgasm that shakes your little human form. “That’s my perfect slutty toy. My gorgeous and pathetic human. You’re such a good hole for me.” Pulling out to cover your torso and lower body in cum as a sign of dominance because you do and always will belong to them.

[avvail]

prompt #103

“How was I supposed to know you loved me?”

The villain raised an arched brow at them in disbelief. “It was obvious.”

“You threw me off a fifteen story building the other week alone.”

“In the name of love.”

[athina-blaine]

images saved under folder titled "actual 22-year-old who should have been at the club 😭"

I know there's this idea in fandom that Kabru is already in a place where he's able to easily shoulder others' burdens, or that maybe taking care of someone else would teach him how to better take of himself. I'm sure a huge part of that comes from his fairly utilitarian role in the main story (he doesn't really get the chance to be vulnerable or break down outside of maybe ch 76), but I just don't subscribe to that. If anything, I think it would be excessively easy for him to continue neglecting his own needs if it's for the sake of other people, especially for someone he cares about 👇

I think it's important that, in the end, Kabru isn't the right person to say what Mithrun needs to hear here. The only desires Kabru offers up to Mithrun are Kabru's own desires to help others with their needs; "I want you to live a life that isn't driven by revenge", "I want to help my friend by eating my fill" (as beautifully illustrated by @yuri-puppies here). Mithrun says, "I wanted to die and part of me still does", and Kabru thinks that this is an acceptable thing to feel so long as Mithrun is able to keep his promise and be useful to others. It takes Senshi offering the idea that scraps are useful no matter what that Mithrun is able to finally feel relief. Just look at the difference between,

versus

which I think is a message Mithrun needed to hear as much as Kabru does. All this to say, I hope Kabru is able to get to the point one day where he feels safe and secure enough to put his own wants and needs first, even when it helps no one but himself

[bunnys-kisses]

Hey bunny! Pretty pretty please could Konig serve me a croissant, also some crepes and millet-feuille? Oh and some champagne would be lovely with that 🙏💖✨

the bakery menu

there are still tons of items on the menu! feel free to submit your own! i'm happily accepting requests! as for this one, i am so happy to get a könig request! i always feel like i focus so much on price or ghost that i always forget the mountain of a man. and the prompts are very good as well! i did change croissant a little bit, still the same vibe of a prompt, just switched up the language a little! thank you for the request!

croissant ("i wonder if your father knows what happens during the off hours. if he knows you're here with me.") + crepe ("pretty girl.") + mille-feuille (“that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl.”) + champagne (sugar daddy) served by könig (call of duty!)

cw: smut/pwp, sugar daddy-adjacent, daddy issues, size kink/difference (it's könig ofc), könig in love, dirty talk, cockwarming that turns into lap sex, unprotected sex

könig never imagined himself with another person. he simply thought that his line of work and his anxiety would scare too many people off. but you were not like most people, where most were scared by the mountain of a man with a few too many facial scars, you saw a helpful boyfriend to help you move your stuff into his apartment.

you were a total go-getter. nothing could stop you, you were brave and kind. most of all sweet and könig thought that he'd die happy in between your thighs. he hated that he had to be gone for so long.

that was where the money came in. he wouldn't call it a sugar daddy situation, that would imply there was no real emotional connection. and there was, you were already pointing out engagment rings when you were out together.

there was a definite strong emotional connection.

könig just wanted to make sure that you were taken care of when he was away. because his time away from you could be a few days or a few months, and he wanted to make sure his little schatzi was alright. yes, yes, yes, he knew you had a career, but a little (read: a lot) extra was what he wanted to give to his darling.

the other issue was your father. he was high up in the chain of command for kortac. which meant that you were off limits, but you honestly didn't care. you were a grown woman. your father agreed through grit teeth when you told him you were moving in with könig. your father couldn't stop you, and at least you wanted to live with someone who could protect you. könig was huge.

despite it all you were a happy couple, könig was in love with you. his precious little flower. he'd do anything to keep you happy. and where he took care of you financially (despite your protests), you took care of him in every other way.

one of those ways was being such a good girl for him. his hand was currently in your hair, made your skull seem small in its grasp. you knew that the 6'10 man probably had crushed someone's skull with his bare hands. but his grip on you was loose, the idea of him hurting you made his skin crawl.

you were softly licking his cock while he watched the football game. originally it was supposed to help you beloved relax after two weeks away on a mission. but it was hard to focus on his beer and the game when your pink tongue was brushed against the underside of his cock.

you were great a lot of things sexually, but you were terrible at cockwarming. anyway you tried to do it, you'd just get too excited and do more than just warm him.

"meine liebe." he said softly, "please."

you looked up at him, his cock pressed against your nose. you said, "sorry, honey. i just can't help myself."

"pretty girl." he said, "such a pretty girl."

you giggled as you gave his heavy balls a kiss, "thank you, my love." but made a small yelp noise when könig picked you up from under the shoulders and got you on his lap. you felt his erection against your clothed pussy.

"i want to feel your pussy." he said, "you look better in my lap then on your knees." his voice was such a hot rumble but it carried such a sweetness to it, you couldn't help but eagerly peel off your sleeping shorts and underwear.

you got in his lap properly, knees on either side of his large thighs and sank onto his cock like you had done a million times. you wrapped your arms around your lover and rested against his broad chest. his cock nudged against the back of your pussy and you felt content.

one of the few things that would calm you down was the heft of your lover's cock snug in your damp pussy. it was a far cry from when you first got together and he wouldn't fit in you.

könig put the beer down on the side table before it tumbled out of his hand. your pussy was a familiar presence for him. the tight fit felt good, "that’s it, fuck, that’s a good girl"

you kissed the scar by his mouth and said softly, "thank you, my love."

he cupped your behind and held you while he continued watching the game. austria was getting their asses kicked but the sensation of you seated in his lap made him honestly not care. usually he was an avid football fan, but to have his sweet girl curled up on him felt good.

you mumbled sweet nothings into his ear. he felt the pleasure grow in his gut which meant that you were getting excited too. you started to roll your hips a little, you impatient little thing.

no wonder, the austrian loved you so much.

"mmm, honey." you whimpered.

"i thought you were meant to warm me?" he chuckled softly as he held you.

you replied, "i can't help it. it feels so good. it makes me want more, more, more!" you were soaked and it drove könig crazy as well. two forces that came together.

"alright, meine liebe. i got you." he kissed the apple of your cheek. such a precious little thing."

the more you got cock-drunk the looser your lips became. it was a good thing you weren't a spy, or else a little pressure on your pussy would have you spilling international secrets!

"i wonder what my father knows what happens in the off time. what you and i do together in this little house." you giggled as you rolled your hips. your nails dug into his shoulders.

he groaned, "meine liebe." he hated being teased, but he didn't want to push you too hard and bruise your cervix. something he had done a few times already.

your thrusts were almost cute, little humps as you kept his cock inside of you. you were a far cry from cockwarming. but your boyfriend could never deny you a single thing. so he placed a hand on your hip and the other on the arm of the sofa and let his precious little flower ride him.

he held you steady as you rode him. his cock pressed against your softest areas and earned sweet little moans. your airy little moans, the wetness between your legs, the heat in your face. he lucked out, whatever god was out there blessed him with his cute little flower.

"please, honey."

"i've got you, meine liebe. my pretty girl." he purred as he knew you were getting close. you didn't last too long, he could tell by the stagger in your thrusts and how desperate your moans were.

he softly rubbed up against you as you rode him. a counter thrust to you erratic movements. you were just so painfully cute like this. you peppered his face with kisses and his heart swelled.

it wouldn't be much longer before you dug your pretty nails into his shoulders and clenched around his cock. you were trying to milk him as you slowed down. you slumped against your lover.

his cock was still painfully hard inside of you, it took him a good while to finish off. but you were out of comission for at least twenty minutes. orgasms hit you fast and hard.

but that was fine, he kept your face against his chest as you calmed down and he then grabbed his beer and took a hearty sip of the drink. he rubbed your soft hair and relaxed.

after the game he'd take you to the bedroom and wring two more orgasms out of you before he shoved all his cum into your sweet cunt. you told him once jokingly that you literally had 0% austrian genes in you, but he thought with the amount of cum in you that number was at least at 5%. <3

[venfaaniik]

thank @turtlemurmurs for sponsoring this coffee

[monstersholygrail]

Do you make money every time you use the words "gummy walls" in your (amazing btw) stories

Would this be considered a backhanded compliment?

Genuinely don’t know how to take this

But if you’d like me to use something else you can surely pay me to do that instead. I take commissions <3

[charliemwrites]

A reader x Simon commission piece I just recently finished for my sweet bean N.W. I had a lot of fun writing a little scenario I never would have thought up on my own!

(Reader is described with FAB anatomy, but no gendered pronouns are used. No sensitive content warnings, just spice.)

It’s a perfect day.

The sun is a bright golden marble in a perfect jewel sky, toasting the sand into a powdery bed. There are only wisps of flossy cloud to interrupt the light, a feathery salt-soaked breeze to soften the edge of heat. The water is nothing but lazy ripples, foamy waves crawling up the coastline before slithering back.

And your coworker is soaking wet.

When you first signed on as a lifeguard, you didn’t expect more than some extra pocket money. A little financial cushion while you finished working through your master’s program. A chance to get some sunshine instead of holing up in your room. Maybe the occasional bit of eye candy while you fished children out of the shallows and fussed at families for littering around the barbecue grills.

You didn’t expect Simon “Walking Wet Dream” Riley. (Okay, that’s not his actual nickname – apparently it’s “Ghost.” Because of course it is.) You didn’t expect his big, fuck-off muscles, or his perfect sun-bleached hair, or the dark ink of his tattoos, or…

Well.

You got more than just eye candy when Mister Price hired you. Simon is a whole damn feast. Especially when he’s fresh from a cool-down swim, red trunks weighed down by water and tides, revealing the tantalizing curves of his hips. Droplets skittering over the bulges and divots of his body, sparkling in the sun…

“Excuse me?”

You try not to jolt, head jerking to the guy that hopefully hasn’t been standing there too long. He looks about your age, maybe a bit older. Wavy, chin-length brown hair and eyes nearly as blue as the water. Pretty, in a young Instagram prince kind of way. Maybe your type in another time – the time Before Simon.

“Hi,” you say quickly, “did you need something?”

“Do you have any plasters?” he asks. “My little brother scraped his knee.”

You glance at the kid shuffling just behind him, his knees dirtied and one red with a bit of blood. Nothing serious, you determine, but could use some first aid.

“Oh, poor thing!” you say. “C’mon, we have some bandages in the shack.”

You wave to get Simon’s attention, make the quick hand-sign indicating you’ll be gone for a moment. He notices you, the two boys, then nods and makes his way back to his usual lookout spot.

The shack is a quiet, cool oasis away from the heat. You’ve dozed off next to the mist fan more times than you care to admit, only to be woken by Simon pressing a cold water bottle to your cheek. It used to annoy you, but now you appreciate the reminder to hydrate.

There’s a robust first aid kit in one of the cabinets, though you groan a bit when you see how high Simon’s stashed it this time. Damned tall man; you could swear he does it on purpose. You try to reach it on your toes, but when that doesn’t work, you jump a bit. Still no luck. You’re going to have to get the stepstool at this rate.

“Here, I’ve got it.”

You jump a bit as Insta-Prince comes up behind you, sliding in close before you can scoot out of the way. He stretches his arm over your head, tugging the kit down from the shelf. When you glance up – concerned about something falling on you – you find him smirking down at you.

“Thanks,” you say trying not to snatch it out of his hands.

“Seems like an… inconvenient place to put that,” he muses.

You sit the younger brother on a plastic chair near the door and kneel, kit open on the floor. “We usually keep it lower… I think Simon forgets I’m shorter than him.”

The kid winces a bit at the sting of wound wash but puts on a brave face when you smile at him.

“Seems pretty rude. Is he hard to work with?” Insta-Prince asks.

You hesitate, trying to think of how to respond. Simon was intimidating, at first. Dark eyes and stoic expression, he was difficult to read. Always within a stone’s throw, you used to feel like he was hovering. Like he didn’t think you could do your job right.

Over the months, though, that insecurity has bridged into a tentative friendship. Even if he’s not talkative himself, he lets you chat to your heart’s content. Keeps you hydrated, reminds you to eat snacks and apply sunscreen. Even handles the rowdier beachgoers when they break rules, his bigger stature and sharp glare enough to cow even the most entitled people.

“No, he’s—”

“What’s the hold up?”

You glance up at Simon’s broad form angled in the shack’s doorway. His eyes aren’t on you or the kid, though. They’re on Insta-Prince – standing a little close to you, now that you’re not focused on the younger brother.

“Just finishing up,” you answer, smoothing a waterproof bandage over the scrape. “You did great, buddy, high five!”

That earns you a little smile and the requested high-five as the kid hops out of the chair. When you stand, Simon’s eyes flick to you. Darker than deep water, something swimming within that you can discern from the surface. It makes you fidgety, like you’ve been caught out doing something you shouldn’t.

“Remember to log it,” he rumbles.

“On it!” You lean over the wooden counter to pluck the clipboard from the wall on the other side, relieved that someone put the pen back for once.

“So, you have to write down all the injuries people get?” Insta-Prince asks, trying for casual conversation. The air feels oddly stifling, and gets worse when he settles closer, peeking around to see the sheet.

“Just if we use medical supplies,” you answer, scribbling quickly.

“Lifeguards only in the shack, kid,” Simon interrupts. “Get moving.”

You try not to snort in amusement. While Simon might tolerate you, he’s got a general disdain for most beachgoers – ironic considering how adamant he is about safety. But he seems to find the average person a nuisance to be constantly monitored and herded away from trouble. Like a shepherd with a flock of particularly stupid sheep.

“My brother was hurt, man, give me a break,” Insta-Prince protests, annoyed.

“And now he’s not,” Simon replies. “You should catch up with him. Kids need to be watched, isn’t that right, sunshine?”

You hum absently in agreement, signing off on the injury log with your initials. There’s a beat of silence that itches at the back of your mind. When you look up, Simon’s arching an eyebrow at the guy, thick arms crossed across his barrel chest.

Sir, firearms are not allowed on the beach, you think, before wrenching your eyes from Simon’s biceps.

“Did you need anything else?” you ask Insta-Prince.

“Just what time you get off work,” he replies, giving you big, soft, hopeful eyes.

You blink, a bit shocked. Flirting happens rarely for you, except maybe platonically with Soap or Gaz. To be fair, you’re not exactly the female lifeguard idol that most people would fantasize about. Half the time you jog around in shorts and a rash-guard, more comfortable in unisex swimwear and keeping the worst of the sun off yourself. Helpful to avoid wardrobe malfunctions if a panicking swimmer grabs at you.

Besides, you’re not really looking to get hit on. Hard to keep an eye out for emergencies if someone’s chatting your ear off for a shag by the restrooms. (You didn’t think people really did that until Farah groaned about it at the bonfire when you first hired.) Still, now that it’s happening… you don’t hate it. This guy is objectively attractive, apparently cares about his younger sibling enough to get him first-aid, and is weathering Simon’s increasingly annoyed scowl.

You figure there’s no harm. Not like someone else is showing a similar interest.

“At sunset,” you answer. “So, uh…”

“6:30,” Simon offers.

You shoot him a grateful look as the kid begins scooting for the door, skirting around Simon’s wider, thicker frame. Christ, the difference is stark. You tug at the front of your rash-guard to relieve some of the sudden heat.

“Maybe I’ll see you then,” he says before disappearing around the corner.

You stare after him for a second. He didn’t even ask for your name. “Huh.”

“The hell was that, sunshine?” Simon grouses.

You turn to him and shrug. “No idea.”

“Really now?” he scoffs.

You shake your head, already agitated by the whole thing for no reason you can pinpoint. Lean over the counter again to hang up the clipboard. “Really.”

“This isn’t a place for your silly summer fantasies and little meet-cutes,” he growls. “This is a real job, with real lives on the line.”

You twist around, brows furrowed as your mouth drops open in offense. “I know that.”

“Do you? Then why the fuck were you in here flirting?”

“I was helping the kid,” you argue, “you saw him!”

“Real convenient, that. When the older one’s been eye-fucking you all damn day.”

Any snappy retorts drown in the shock of his crass language and the accusation. All day? That guy? And Simon noticed? Never mind all that – Simon would seriously think you’d use a kid’s injury as an excuse to… what? Get cozy with an attractive stranger while on duty?

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” you huff, “but I need to get back out there.”

As you pass, a big, rough hand snaps out and catches your elbow. You come up short, half-turning towards him, face hot. Equal parts angry and ashamed for some reason. Summer romance your ass.

“Get it together,” he orders.

You click your tongue at him. “Same to you.”

You wrench your arm back and storm out onto the sand, snatching your floatie from the shack railing along the way. Don’t know what jellyfish stung his ass, but you hope he figures it out. Don’t think your self-esteem can take another round of… whatever that was.

The rest of the day passes tense and slow. Without Simon to talk to, and the beach relatively peaceful, you’re left to fixate on the incident in the shack. What was that about? You thought for sure you’d grown on Simon a bit. Sure, you’re one of the younger lifeguards, which is why Price assigned you to Simon’s post, but you’ve worked hard. You thought you’d proven yourself.

Checking your watch, you find that it’s nearly 6:30. The sun doesn’t seem that low yet, but the beach got empty while you were idly keeping watch. Might as well pack it in, you figure.

Not even thinking of Insta-Prince when you hop up the little wooden steps to the shack. Simon isn’t back from wherever he’s monitoring yet, and you’d like to be clear before that changes. Just in case he’s still in a bad mood.

You shed your blue swim-shorts and rash-guard on the counter, leaving you in the more standard one-piece. Roll your shoulders a bit uncomfortably, itching to squeeze into your binder after a day with tits-out. You’ve gotten accustomed to the sensation of leaving it off for the job, but you’d still prefer to wear it when safe.

You flop onto the counter, reaching over the side to fish your bag out from its cubby. Of course, that’s the exact moment that you hear Simon’s heavy step on that creaky board by the doorway.

“Bloody hell,” you think you hear him mutter.

“I’m just about to head out,” you assure him.

“Meeting up with that knob?”

Your temper flares. You abandon your bag and land on your feet, spinning around. Come up (very) short when Simon’s right there, not enough room to breathe without your chests brushing. But you don’t allow yourself to be deterred.

“So, what if I am?” you challenge.

His eyes darken, then narrow. “This isn’t a game you want to play, sunshine.”

“Maybe I do,” you insist, planting your hands on your hips.

He exhales slow and heavy, boxes you in against the counter with hands on either side of you. Your stupid, traitorous heart skips a beat, then trips into double time. Normally he wears a rash-guard too, but not today. No, today it’s swathes of tanned, scarred skin. And it’s so, so close to yours.

“You won’t win,” he warns.

Your tongue feels heavy and clumsy, maybe because your thoughts feel the same way. Now, you’re not always the most aware of “signals,” but there aren’t many other ways to interpret someone near-pinning you to a counter with smoldering eyes.

You scramble to review the earlier confrontation through a new lens. The way Simon glared at Insta-Prince, not you – until you seemed open to his interest. Oh. Ohhhh.

You wet your lips; the way his eyes lock onto the movement bolsters your courage.

“What if… I don’t want to win?” you ask.

His eyes dart up to yours, something a little sharper than longing when he whispers, “I’d make you a sore loser.”

An unexpected laugh bursts out of you; his teeth flash in a crooked smile as he scoops you up so easily. He sits you on edge of the counter and steps between your thighs, pelvis bumping against yours. You gasp, head dropping to stare wide-eyed at the frankly monstrous bulge in his trunks.

“W-wow,” you mumble faintly, thighs squeezing around his hips.

“C’mere, sunshine,” he growls, cupping your jaw.

You tilt your face up, sigh softly as his mouth slots over yours. He tastes like blue powerade and sea salt, tongue curling against yours when you grant him enthusiastic access.

Your hands make scattered, eager work of exploring him, unsure where you want to touch first, just that you have to. He’s as solid as you always expected, densely packed muscle under healthy, hydrated layers of fat. Sun-warm beneath your palms, shudders as your skim them dangerously close low on his twitching abdomen.

“Can I take this off?” he asks, tugging gently at the shoulder strap of your swimsuit.

“Yeah,” you mumble, wriggling closer.

He huffs in amusement, peeling the elastic material over your arms and down your chest while you scatter kisses over his jaw and neck. You gasp into his peck when his calloused thumbs brush your hard nipples. Just a small touch, yet electricity is racing up and down your spine.

“This alright?” he checks.

You hum the affirmative, pressing into his touch as he pinches and rolls the sensitive peaks, slow searching. Reclaims your mouth to swallow each and every little mewl and moan that spills off your tongue. You can’t help rocking against him, hot and hard through the thin layers of swimwear.

“Simon,” you whine against his mouth, “c’mon.”

“Impatient,” he teases, nipping your bottom lip.

“You’ve kept me waiting long enough,” you complain, tugging at his trunks.

“I know, sunshine,” he coos, “just wait a bit longer.”

He takes the tiniest step back, fingers hooking in your swimsuit again to roll it the rest of the way off. You lift your hips to help, nearly squirming as strings of slick web between the fabric and your pussy. But Simon seems hypnotized, snapping the strands with his fingers and following them back to your swollen cunt.

“Fuck, all this for me, baby?” he rasps.

You make an embarrassed noise – which quickly graduates into an alarmed squeal when he drops to his knees.

“Simon, wait, I’ve been working all day and—”

“Don’ give a fuck,” he growls, “I’ve been dying to taste you for weeks.”

He yanks your thighs over his big, strong shoulders and dives in. It’s messy and obscenely loud, filling up the tiny shack and all the empty space in your head. Would be embarrassing if you had any room for something so frivolous. Instead, you’re gone on the way he sucks your clit and laps thirstily at your entrance. Utterly obsessed with the deep, throaty groans that leave you throbbing.

It's been a while, true, but you know he’d have you on edge so fast regardless. And he does, rushing up on it like a building, rolling wave. The devastating kind that’ll drown you in unyielding currents.

“Wait, wait,” you squeak, tugging at his coarse hair.

To his credit, he stops instantly, though he sounds absolutely gutted about it. Pulls back licking his lips like a cat with cream, chin practically dripping.

“Alright?” he asks, voice shredded to ribbons.

“I just,” you pant, “I just w-wasn’t ready to – to… I wanna cum on your cock. Please, Si?”

“Fuckin’ hell.” He surges up, pressing you down flat to kiss you stupid(er) and senseless. The taste of you isn’t as offensive as you expected, not coming from his tongue. “You’ll get anything you want if you keep talking like that.”

“Just want you.”

He helps you off the counter, drags you by the wrist to the plastic chair by the doorway. You’re about to protest – no way can that chair support someone his size, never mind both of you. But then he’s spinning you around, crushing you to his chest, and yanking you down into his lap. Any such nonsense as good sense dissolves like a sandcastle.

You can feel the length of him pressing hot and a little wet against your spine. (So, so high up your spine, good god). When he freed himself from his swim-trunks, you’re not sure, nor do you care at this moment. Your priorities narrow down to one absolute necessity: getting him inside you now, now, now.

“Easy now, baby, don’t hurt yourself,” he purrs in your ear. “Let me help.”

He curls big hands around your hips, tight enough that you relish the bruises that may bloom there later. Supports your weight as if it’s nothing to him, propping you over his lap as you line up his cock, dragging the flushed head through your pooling wetness. He curses low and rough, sinking you down until the tip catches on your entrance.

“There we are,” he grits, hands flexing in your soft flesh. “Nice and slow now, sunshine.”

If you had your way, he’d already be balls deep in your aching pussy. But his grip is firm and unrelenting, lowering you inch by thick inch down his shaft. You back and squeeze around him, encouraging him deeper, faster, helpless little noises escaping from your gaping mouth.

“That’s it, halfway there,” he breathes. “Doing so well.”

You choke. Halfway?! You already feel stuffed, walls gripping every contour of his cock like you were made for him.

He twitches inside you, bulbous, leaking head grinding deliciously, and your resolve cracks right down the middle. You dig your nails into his thighs and slam your hips down, crying out as he buries deep inside. Can feel him nudging your cervix, stretching your silky walls, all the way down to where your opening is sealed tight around the base of him.

“Fuck,” he snarls.

“F-feels so good,” you whimper, head falling forward as you clench around him.

Oh, you are definitely going to be so perfectly sore after this. You can’t fucking wait.

“If you’re that impatient to be ruined,” he chuckles breathlessly, “best brace yourself, lovie.”

You barely manage to get your feet planted before he’s fucking up into you, hard and mean. Just what you want, what you need. Your head falls back to cry your pleasure to the shack roof as you bounce. Rocking your hips each time he bottoms out, grinding him against that spongy bundle of nerves inside you. It’s mind-numbing; you’re leaking around him, know it must be dripping onto the floor at this point.

He snakes a hand around to your front. Brushes where the two of you are connected, the strange and dangerous sensation making tears prick at your eyes. Then his fingers skip up to your needy, oversensitive clit. You almost want to stop him, already so overwhelmed with pleasure. But again, anything like coherent thought is ripped away on a tide of ecstasy when he begins rubbing quick, tight circles.

Your rhythm faulters at the new stimulation, but Simon just widens his stance. It changes the angle, drags the head so perfectly against your g-spot. With the hand still on your hip, he starts jerking you down to meet each thrust. It’s slightly slower, but so much sweeter, combined with the rhythm he’s strumming on your clit.

Your orgasm rises like a tsunami, higher and higher, a devastating force building up inside.

“Simon,” you keen, “Simon, I’m gonna – right there…”

“That’s it, sunshine. Get me nice and wet with your cum.”

That voice, saying such filth in your ear, sends you over the edge. You nearly convulse, eyes rolling back in your head as you scream. Back arching, writhing and gripping crescents into his thighs. And you can feel yourself gushing all over him, onto the floor.

“Yes, yes, fuck, just like that.”

You’re near limp as he keeps hammering into you, practically using you like a toy to get himself off. The thought alone makes you squeeze around him again, a powerful aftershock bringing another flood of wetness. Your head lolls back against his shoulder, crying into his ear, begging him to cum inside you, fill you up…

He crashes his mouth into yours as he cums, groaning into your lax mouth, jerking violently into your overstimulated pussy. You swear you can feel him spurting inside you, thick and white-hot. It feels… it feels…

You break the kiss to suck in a deep breath, lightheaded and still squeaky with pleasure. Simon trails soothing kisses over your shoulder, grip easing up to caress over the forming finger marks. You hum softly, voice husky. Flutter your eyes open and blink at the pink sky out the window.

“Is it… is it just now sunset?” you ask.

Simon chuckles against your ear. “Looks like I was about thirty minutes off. Whoops.”

[yuesya]

“Cursed? What do you mean, cursed?”

Sanemi narrows his eyes at the blue-eyed, white-haired girl. The one who’d just wandered in and said that Oyakata-sama wasn’t sick, but cursed instead, with the sort of tone that indicated what she’d said was supposed to be obvious.

Your oyakata-sama isn’t sick. He’s cursed.

… The hereditary illness plaguing Oyakata-sama’s bloodline was one that constantly, incessantly ate away at their body, causing their health to deteriorate at a rapid rate. All children of the bloodline died young –and yet, it did not prevent each and every one of them from devoting themselves to the never-ending war against man-eating demons.

Sanemi was aware that Oyakata-sama’s health was… deteriorating. Rapidly, even, which was not something that he liked thinking about. And yet, it was a fact that all demon slayers were forced to face, because it was the cold reality in front of them.

“Your oyakata-sama is cursed,” the strange girl repeats herself, far too calm and uncaring for Sanemi to be at ease with her presence. “I presume that’s why you’re looking for a sorcerer.”

… A what?

The nonsensical word throws Sanemi off-kilter for a moment. Judging by the faint confusion that he can see on his fellow Pillars around him, Sanemi is not the only one with this reaction.

“A sorcerer… is that what you are?” If Oyakata-sama is surprised, his level voice does not betray a single hint of it. “It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that term. What you say is true; a curse has befallen my bloodline. The priests said that a demon had been born of our blood. And until the demon is dead, no child shall survive into adulthood.”

“I see,” the girl says, summarily polite, her expression unmoving.

“The reason why we’ve been searching for you is because you killed a demon,” Oyakata-sama continues. “Without use of a nichirin blade, and in the dead of the night –you killed a demon. Upper Moon Three, to be precise.”

The girl tilts her head, “Upper Moon?”

… She didn’t even know what an Upper Moon was? Was she being serious?

Sanemi watches, faintly incredulous, as Oyakata-sama pauses briefly… and proceeds to explain what the Moons are to her.

The Demon Moons are the most powerful demons under Kibutsuji Muzan’s command, their hierarchy measured and separated into different ranks based on strength. Upper Moons, and Lower Moons.

“… and demons, with their high regenerative abilities, are impossible to kill unless they are either decapitated, or exposed to sunlight.”

All of this should be common knowledge for a demon slayer. But her lack of knowledge about it… reminds Sanemi of himself, in a way. Back when he’d first started hunting demons, that is. He hadn’t had a clue what he was getting himself into, but he’d known that demons existed and devoured humans –and so he’d attempted to kill what demons he could, fighting them with mundane tools and relying on sunlight to burn them to ashes.

If he hadn’t been found by a demon slayer who inducted him into the corps and got him proper training, Sanemi would’ve gotten himself killed by his own recklessness, eventually.

But… evidently the same did not hold true for this girl. Who was somehow able to kill demons without either sunlight nor nichirin steel.

How?

How was something like that even possible?

“You want me to kill demons for you,” the girl’s voice is distinctly unimpressed. And the phrasing of those words is enough for Sanemi to gnash his teeth and scowl, because what did she mean by that–

“Demons are a danger to all humans!” he snaps at her. “Don’t talk as if Oyakata-sama is–”

“Yes.”

Sanemi whirls around, aghast. “Oyakata-sama!”

“It’s alright, Sanemi.” Though faint, there is still an ever-present smile curled over Oyakata-sama’s lips. “Whether it’s for me, or for anyone else… that is what I’m asking of her. With the skills she has shown, she would be a valuable ally in finally eradicating the King of Demons once and for all.”

“Why should I help you?”

The words themselves are arrogant, condescending, and yet none of it shows in her voice. If anything, the girl’s voice is as calm and neutral as ever in sharp contrast to what she’s saying, and–

“Is there anything that you desire?” Oyakata-sama asks.

“…” Blue eyes stare out at Oyakata-sama, unreadable. “… A binding vow. I’ll kill your demons for you, and you help me find a way home.”

[otiksimr]

A Duet, a Solo

Little bird,

Do you hear these songs I play for thee

Each little note

Every strumming of strings

Each and every one of them

Dedicated to you alone

Can you hear them

These string of keys

The responding sound of my heart

This noise dedicated to you

Little bird

Little bird

Silent as you are,

Once more

I long to hear your song

Will there ever be a day

That we will play together again

Little bird.

[thoughtkick]

It was that kind of mindfuck: to be too visible and invisible at the same time, in the ways it mattered the most.

Lisa Ko, The Leavers

[sualne]

luffy through the AUs

[doumadono]

Synopsis: Dabi returns to the League of Villains' hideout only to discover that the affectionate cat snuggling with him is far more than it appears

A/N: this story was commissioned on my Kofi page by @shonen-brainrot - I'm sharing it with her kind permission 🌸 If you like my writing, please consider supporting me via my Kofi page

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST - PART II MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST KO-FI COMMISSIONS

A crackling fire was the only source of light in the dimly lit hideout. The hideout was unusually quiet, with a faint hum of electricity the only sound to break the silence. The scent of smoke and old wood permeated the air, mixing with the faint aroma of cheap instant noodles that Spinner had managed to scrounge up.

Dabi dragged his feet across the floor upon entering the hideout, his head aching with a dull throb. Today had been exhausting, not because of the physical demands, but the constant tug of thoughts that he tried, and failed, to ignore. There was always something gnawing at the back of his mind, a persistent itch that no amount of fire could burn away. He lit a cigarette with a tiny tongue of fire he ignited on the pad of his index finger, hoping the nicotine would help numb it, just for a little while. 

Another mission, another mess. 

Dabi could already feel the fatigue setting in, the weight of the day's events pressing down on his shoulders like a heavy cloak. A shower and a nap were all he wanted. Maybe something to eat if he could muster the energy. But those plans screeched to a halt the moment he noticed something small and unexpected trotting around the hideout.

As he approached the common room, the sound of muffled laughter caught his attention. It was unusual to hear anyone in the League actually enjoying themselves; their lives weren't exactly conducive to lighthearted moments. 

Intrigued, Dabi followed the sound, rounding the corner to see Toga giggling uncontrollably while Twice tried to stifle his own chuckles.

In the center of the room, there was a small, sleek black cat. It padded around with an air of confidence, its eyes glimmering in the firelight, tail flicking with curiosity. 

The sight of a cat in the hideout was so out of place that it made Dabi pause. His brows furrowed in confusion, the cigarette hanging loosely between his lips. "What the fuck is that?" Dabi asked, his voice rough with irritation and a hint of disbelief. His eyes narrowed as he observed the feline, which had now focused its attention on him. Had Shigaraki finally lost it and decided they needed a comfort animal? The thought of the boss being comforted by anything living was laughable at best.

Toga looked up, her grin widening. "Oh, this? Isn't it adorable? Tomura-kun must've brought it in! Look how cute the kitty is!"

Shigaraki, who was sitting in the corner, didn't even bother to lift his head from the handheld PSP he was engrossed in. "Not mine," he uttered, his tone indifferent, which only made Toga giggle more.

Dabi felt a strange mix of irritation and confusion. This was the last place anyone would expect to find a pet, especially one as seemingly delicate as a cat. He turned his gaze back to the creature.

The cat didn’t seem fazed by his presence. In fact, it was the opposite. The small creature padded over to him with a grace that almost seemed too elegant for a stray. Its fur was sleek, a glossy black that seemed to drink in the light, and its eyes gleamed with intelligence as it approached. The cat circled his feet, its soft fur brushing against his legs as it purred loudly. The vibration of the purring resonated through Dabi's boots, and he felt a warmth spread from the cat’s body into his own, a heat that wasn’t just physical. 

"Don't tell me you got yourself a comfort pet, boss," Dabi scoffed, trying to mask his discomfort with sarcasm. "Didn't know you were getting soft."

Shigaraki finally looked up, his gaze dull as he shrugged. "Why would I need a cat when I have people to annoy me, especially you, Dabi?"

Twice snickered behind his mask, and Dabi shot him a glare. The others seemed to be finding this entire situation far too amusing, which only deepened his suspicion. There was something off about this cat, something that didn't sit right with him.

“Seriously, whose idea was this?” Dabi asked aloud, not expecting an answer, though he glanced around the room as if someone might pop out to claim responsibility for the cat’s presence. No one did. The rest of the League was either out or keeping to themselves, it seemed. Dabi let out a heavy sigh. He scowled and crouched down, looking the cat square in the eye. “Alright, what’s your deal?” he asked, trying to sound stern, but the cat merely blinked lazily at him before nuzzling against his hand. The touch was warm, almost comfortingly so, and Dabi could feel a rumbling purr vibrating through the small body. The tension in his shoulders began to ease, despite himself. There was something oddly soothing about the little creature. As the feline continued to nuzzle against his legs, Dabi tried to shake it off, but the creature was persistent.

Finally, the cat seemingly got bored and leaped onto the couch nearby, making itself comfortable as it curled into a tight ball. 

The feeling that something wasn’t quite right lingered within the fire wielder, even as he let himself sink into the worn couch beside the cat. 

It responded immediately, uncurling and pressing itself against his side, seeking the heat that his quirk naturally produced. 

The cat, for its part, remained glued to his side, occasionally shifting to find the warmest spot on his lap. Dabi could feel the way it leaned into his touch, purring louder. “Clingy little thing, ain’t ya?” Dabi commented, though he didn’t pull away. "So what's the deal?" the black haired man muttered, more to himself than to anyone else. "Where'd this thing come from?"

Toga knelt next to the couch he sat at, leaning in closer, her eyes sparkling as she started petting the cat splayed on his lap. "Oh, it's just a stray, I guess. Thought it might like the warmth here. Maybe it likes you because you're all fiery."

Her words were laced with a teasing edge, but Dabi couldn't deny that there was some truth to it. The cat’s persistence in snuggling up to him wasn’t strange, considering that animals usually stuck with him, not caring about the danger he carried within. But this one — this little black ball of fur — seemed drawn to him even more, almost as if it craved the very heat of his flames.

Twice chimed in, his voice a mixture of his split personalities. "Or maybe it's because you're just as much a stray as it is! Hah! But seriously, it probably just likes the warmth, man."

Dabi rolled his eyes. Twice’s comment was not only unnecessary but also rude. 

The cat had now claimed his lap fully, kneading at his thigh with its tiny paws. The sensation was oddly pleasant.

It wasn’t long before he started to grow suspicious again. The way the others were watching him, with barely concealed grins and knowing glances, set off alarm bells in his head. There was something more to this cat, something they weren’t telling him. "You guys are terrible at keeping secrets," Dabi voiced flatly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Toga and Twice. "Spit it out. What’s going on with this cat?"

Toga’s laughter burst out before she could stop it, and she leaned back, clutching her sides. "Oh, Dabi-kun! You're so clueless! It's too amusing, hihihi!"

Twice nodded, equally amused. "You’re gonna love this, but also maybe hate it? Probably both."

Before Dabi could demand a proper explanation, the cat in his lap stretched luxuriously, its body elongating in a way that seemed almost unnatural. There was a brief moment where its form seemed to shimmer, the fur receding, and the next thing he knew, a girl was sitting there, perched on his lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Shock registered first. Then, a flood of realization. 

His eyes widened, and he froze, his usual calm demeanor cracking as he tried to process what had just happened. "What the actual —" Dabi started, his voice trailing off as he stared at you, his brain trying to catch up.

A soft smile curled your lips, eyes gleaming as you looked right into his turquoise eyes. “Surprise, I guess?” You offered, tilting your head slightly, stretching yourself. “Name’s Y/N, and I’m a new member.”

The room erupted in laughter, but Dabi remained silent, his eyes locked onto you as the realization sank in. The unscarred parts of his cheeks flushed, a rare sight for someone as composed as him, and a mixture of embarrassment and frustration boiled within. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” the man snarled. "Should've known something was up when you wouldn't stop snuggling. Now, get the fuck off my lap, and better don’t ya test my patience, woman.”

You giggled, a soft, melodic sound. “Couldn’t help it. You’re really warm, you know? My instincts kinda took over.”

Toga wiped a tear from her eye, still laughing. “It was too funny to watch you trying to figure it out! You should’ve seen your face! And Y/N is such a sweet kitten!”

Shigaraki, still absorbed in his game, didn’t bother to look up as he added, “It was the only entertainment we’ve had all day.”

Sliding off Dabi's lap with an easy, fluid movement, the action was followed by a casual smoothing of your clothes as if nothing out of the ordinary had just happened. That same soft smile lingered on your lips, eyes still sparkling with a mischievous glint.

Dabi leaned back on the couch, running a hand over his face in exasperation as he tried to shake off the lingering warmth from where you had been sitting. “New recruit, huh?” he sputtered, his voice laced with a wry tone. “I don’t know what the hell we need a kitten-girl for, but I guess that’s none of my business.”

You just shrugged, still smiling, clearly not bothered by his skepticism. “Guess you’ll find out soon enough. Plus,” you added, a mischievous glint returning to your eyes, “I’m pretty good at getting into places I’m not supposed to. Comes in handy. I’m useful.”

“Useful,” Dabi echoed, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “Right. Guess we’ll see about that.” He couldn’t quite figure you out yet, and that bothered him more than he wanted to admit. But if Shigaraki thought you were worth bringing in, there had to be something more to you.

Toga bounced over to your side, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Oh, she’s useful, alright! You should see how sneaky she can be! Plus, she’s just adorable!” The teenager giggled again, clearly enjoying the entire situation far too much.

“Adorable isn’t exactly what we’re aiming for here,” Dabi replied dryly. 

"Don’t worry, Dabi-sama," you chanted, your voice light and teasing, "I’ll keep my distance if it makes you uncomfortable. But I might still curl up next to you every now and then if it gets too cold. Can’t fight the instinct, you know?"

Dabi narrowed his eyes, still processing the whirlwind of the past few minutes. It wasn’t like him to get caught off guard, especially by something so simple as a quirk transformation. He prided himself on keeping his cool, on being the one who stayed in control, but here you were, blowing right past his defenses with a smile and a playful tone. “Yeah, well, do that, and don’t expect me to be so generous next time,” he muttered, trying to regain some semblance of authority. 

Dabi wasn’t really mad — more irritated that he’d been the butt of the joke. Still, there was something about your easy-going nature that made it hard to stay irritated for too long.

“Aw, come on, Dabi! Don’t be such a grump!” Toga huffed, curling her lips in an offended grimace.

“Shut it, Toga, or you’re next,” Dabi shot her a glare.

After some time, he pushed himself up from the couch, giving you a last look that was somewhere between exasperation and grudging respect. “Just don’t make a habit of pulling stunts like that, got it?”

You gave a small salute, your grin widening. “Got it, Dabi-sama.”

Dabi headed to his room in the back of the hideout. 

The small space was cluttered, a mess of discarded clothing, half-burnt papers and magazine clippings with Endeavor’s face covering most of them, and an ashtray that had long since overflowed. It wasn’t much, but it was his, and after the day’s events, it was the only place he wanted to be.

He let out a sigh as he collapsed onto the bed, the springs creaking under his weight. The worn mattress did little to offer comfort, but he was too tired to care. With the lights off, the only source of illumination came from the faint glow of the streetlamp outside, filtering through the cracked blinds.

Just as he was starting to drift off to sleep, a soft scratching sound at the door pulled him back to reality. At first, he ignored it, figuring it was just the wind or something brushing up against the door. But then it came again — persistent.

Dabi groaned, rolling over in bed and pulling the blanket over his head. “Just my luck,” he muttered, though he couldn’t quite shake the nagging feeling that he knew exactly what was causing the noise. 

When the scratching didn’t stop, he finally gave in, tossing the blanket aside and dragging himself out of bed.

He shuffled to the door, irritation bubbling up as he yanked it open, ready to give whoever — or whatever — a piece of his mind. But the words died in his throat when he saw you sitting there in your cat form, looking up at him with those familiar green eyes. 

“What the hell are you doing?” he grumbled, running a hand through his messy hair. 

You tilted your head slightly, a soft meow escaping your muzzle as you patiently waited for him to let you in. The look you gave him was so imploring, so earnest, that despite everything, he felt his resolve crumbling.

“Dammit,” Dabi muttered under his breath, stepping aside to let you in. “I’m not running a damn shelter, Y/N.”

You trotted inside, tail flicking happily as you surveyed the cluttered room. Without waiting for an invitation, you leaped onto the bed, circling a spot before settling down right in the middle of it. 

“Fucking unbelievable,” he muttered to himself, shaking his head as he shut the door behind him. He considered shooing you off the bed, but the sight of you curled up in a small ball, looking so content, made him think twice. It wasn’t like he had much energy left to argue, anyway. He climbed in beside you, making a show of rolling his eyes. “You better not make a habit of this,” he warned, though the way he pulled the blanket over both of you betrayed his true feelings. 

You responded by snuggling closer, purring softly as you curled up against his chest, soaking in the warmth he naturally emitted.

His arm draped over you almost instinctively, his fingers brushing against your fur. 

The purring grew louder, and he could feel the steady rhythm of your tiny heartbeat against him.

Dabi lay there, staring up at the ceiling, his mind still whirring even as his body began to relax. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone — or something — so close, and it was oddly comforting, even if he would never admit it out loud. With a resigned huff, he wrapped an arm around you, the heat of his skin enveloping your small form. The gentle rise and fall of your breathing, coupled with the soft purring, slowly lulled him into a state of calm he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.

[gurugirl]

A Balancing Act*

Series Summary: Harry is a famous, rich, handsome, pop star and he's been in therapy since his boy band days. When he meets Y/n, a beautiful and successful artist, he cannot take no for an answer when it comes to her. He's determined to make her his even if he has to bend the rules a little at first.

A/N: famous pop star!harry x normie artist plus size !reader - This is a commissioned request by @cinnamonone and is based on Harry as a famous singer who falls for a normal (non famous) woman. I've never written anything based off of our real Harry before but had fun doing this. And please note that any and all suppositions made and claimed in this story are made up and have nothing to do with actual real Harry. I do not claim to know him or his preferences nor do I know the details of his love life or relationships he's had (but boy was it fun adding some of the references herein). This is fiction even if it is based on many things Harry Styles has done.

Warning: 18+ only, NSFW, mentions of death and illness, smut, dom/sub dynamics (with use of instruments), DD/lg, angst

Total Word Count: 52k

Fan Art by @cinnamonone

Read on Wattpad

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Ch. 1 Sneak Peek

Chapter 1: Room #1900 & the Painting (18k words)

Ch. 2 Teaser

Chapter 2: Latin America & the Wedding Photo (9.7k words)

Ch. 3 Sneak Peek

Chapter 3: Pat's Disappointed & New Things to Try (12k words)

Ch. 4 Teaser

Chapter 4: European Tour & A Little Distance (12.5k words)

Feedback/Thoughts | Support Me! | Main Masterlist

[electricphantasy]

Hey everybody, I've decided to open up a Kofi! I've currently got 2 options available for commissions - Pay What You Want and Customs! I'm really trying to turn my art into a career, and I thought opening a Kofi would help in that. So, if you've got the time, checking out my Kofi would be amazing! Thank you all for the support, and hopefully, I'll be posting more soon. (´｡• ᵕ •｡`)

KOFI

[vapolis]

omg mara that echo short was amazing i cant stop thing about it 😭 they were so soft "are you safe?" "now that i'm here." kisses to the palm!! to the neck!!! on the mouth!!!! seriously why are we choosing jax when echo is right here! anyway if its not too spoilery, i wanted to ask how echo would respond if they came home to find that merc broke in and is now curled up with their cats asleep on the couch

the tenderness!!! the domestic vibes!!! honestly, I loved writing the merc coming into the flat, and it feeling like home so much, and then slipping into bed next to a sleep warm echo had me all 😩🫂

as for your question: