#Protective Partner

[aventurineswife]

How about Aventurine, Dr Ratio, Sunday and Blade who find out their partner has sleep apnea? They have a heart attack for a hot minute when you stop breathing and then your breathing again and now they can’t sleep lol

The Fear of Losing You

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Blade x Reader, Angst, Comfort, Fluff, Health Scare, Relationship Dynamics, Sleep Apnea, Protective Partner, Emotional Turmoil, Recovery.

Warnings: Contains mentions of sleep apnea, Mild panic/anxiety, Partner health concerns, and Emotional reactions to a health scare.

A/N: I would've had a heart attack too in this case, tbh 😭🙏

It was a peaceful night, the kind Aventurine rarely allowed himself to enjoy. He lounged next to you, his eyes occasionally flicking to your relaxed figure as you slept. A subtle, comfortable silence hung between the two of you—until it wasn’t.

The absence of your breath hit him like a stone to the chest. His heart froze. For a split second, time seemed to slow as he watched, terrified that he would lose you. His sharp mind immediately began calculating the worst-case scenarios, his fingers twitching to shake you awake. But nothing—no sound, no movement.

His hands hovered over you before finally shaking you gently, his voice quivering for the first time in what seemed forever. "Hey, hey... breathe, breathe!"

When you gasped awake, he exhaled in a rush, his breath shaky. His heart thudded violently in his chest as relief washed over him. You were alive. You were fine.

But he couldn’t shake the dread that had lodged itself deep in his ribs. Despite the calm look on his face, his mind couldn’t stop racing. He stared at you for the remainder of the night, watching you sleep in that peaceful, unaware state. As dawn began to break, he found himself unable to sleep—not because he feared losing you, but because he couldn't unsee the terror that had coursed through him when you stopped breathing.

He would never admit it, but the incident made him rethink everything, even the reckless games he played. The only certainty now? His inability to rest until he knew you were safe again.

It was late when Ratio sat by your side, having just returned from a long meeting with the Intelligentsia Guild. His hair brushed against his face as he settled in, gazing at you with a slight frown as you slept. For someone so intellectual and confident, he didn’t understand the complexity of your fragile sleep. Perhaps, it was a flaw in his vast intellect—he had never expected something so mundane as sleep to become a battleground.

Then, in the dead of night, a horrible silence gripped the room. Ratio froze, his sharp eyes narrowing as he observed the stillness, his pulse quickening. His breath caught in his throat when you stopped breathing. His mind immediately began to calculate the problem. Could he revive you manually? Was there something he missed in his extensive research on physiology?

In a panic, he rushed to your side, shaking you firmly. "I—I don’t understand this. You—"

A gasp escaped your lips as you jerked awake, eyes wide with confusion. Relief flooded him instantly, but he couldn’t help the flurry of thoughts that began to invade his mind. He was too intelligent for this. He had to solve this. Immediately. No amount of books or academic achievement had prepared him for this.

You, still groggy, noticed the frantic look in his eyes. "What’s wrong?"

His lips parted to explain, but nothing coherent came out. He had no words. Just the tight grip on your hand, the fierce need to ensure your breathing never stopped again. The remainder of the night was spent beside you, his mind whirring with logical explanations, though no solution seemed quite right. As dawn came, he found himself unable to sleep. How could he, when his brilliant mind was no longer sure of something as simple as human breathing?

The quiet hum of the night was soothing, and Sunday had allowed himself a rare moment of relaxation as he rested next to you. The celestial aura that surrounded him flickered softly in the moonlight, but as he watched you sleep, a feeling of unease began to coil in his chest. His wings twitched gently as the stillness of the room settled in.

Then it happened. The unnerving silence.

For a moment, it felt as if the entire universe had held its breath. His eyes shot open, golden irises wide as he searched your form for any sign of life. His own breath caught in his throat when he realized you had stopped breathing entirely. His wings fluttered in an anxious rhythm, and a rush of panic rose up his spine.

"Please," he whispered, voice shaky, as he gently reached out to shake you awake. "Breathe, please breathe."

Your eyes fluttered open, your gaze dazed and confused, but the overwhelming sense of relief that washed over Sunday was palpable. His wings, trembling slightly, folded tighter around his body as he took a deep breath of his own.

"I… I didn’t realize," he muttered softly, his voice holding an unusual weight of vulnerability. The weight of the fear he’d just felt. For the first time in a long time, he felt deeply human.

Sunday couldn’t fall back asleep. His mind was too restless, haunted by the thought that he might have lost you, even though he had no true explanation for why you’d stopped breathing. The thought of being powerless over something so fragile made his celestial demeanor falter, leaving him restless and wide-eyed as the night passed by.

Blade’s eyes were narrowed as he lay on the bed next to you, watching over you with a detached sense of vigilance. Though his existence had long been consumed by revenge and a cold desire for his own demise, there was something about you that remained a quiet sanctuary, something he didn’t fully understand but couldn’t ignore.

But as the night deepened, a sudden, terrifying silence cut through the air like a blade. His eyes flashed open in an instant, his entire body frozen in place. His heart slammed against his ribcage as he watched you, utterly still. Too still.

His mind raced. No… He could feel it. You’re not breathing.

Without thinking, he was by your side, shaking you violently, desperate for any sign of life. His hand trembled, the broken sword beside him forgotten in his panic.

Then, you gasped, eyes flying open as you caught your breath. The world shifted back into place, but for a moment, Blade’s soul felt like it had been ripped open. The terror in his chest was inexplicable, something he couldn’t fight or shove away.

"Don’t ever do that again," he growled, his voice rough, but the sheer desperation in his tone betrayed him.

You looked at him, confused but still dazed from sleep. He was already pulling back, his eyes dark with something unspoken—something almost resembling fear. Blade, the immortal, the weapon, the destroyer—was afraid. And for the rest of the night, he lay awake, staring at you with unsettling intensity, unable to unsee the brief glimpse of what losing you would truly feel like.

As the night dragged on, Blade couldn’t bring himself to close his eyes, too haunted by the prospect of loss. And so, he remained wide awake, the quiet terror of that moment embedded in his bones.

[yanderejustforyou]

The Penguin

Oz x Reader

So I’m now obsessed with the idea that Oz likes to swim (I read the A03 fic depths)

I would love a fluffy fic with PDA

Oz and Reader at the water park

Go wild - I love your writing 🩵

The sun hung high in the azure sky, its rays casting a warm, golden light that danced over the vibrant, bustling water park below. The air was filled with the infectious laughter of children, their squeals of delight mingling harmoniously with the rhythmic sound of rushing water cascading down slides and into pools. The unmistakable scent of sunscreen mingled with the sharp, chlorinated aroma of the pools, creating a distinct summer atmosphere that promised endless fun and adventure. It wasn’t Oz’s usual kind of outing—he was more accustomed to quiet evenings with his mother or the soft glow of a dimly lit office—but when you had playfully asked him to join you, his steadfast resistance had crumbled, as it often did in your presence.

You couldn’t help but smile at him now, standing beside the wave pool, looking a bit out of place yet undeniably charming in his fitted swim shirt and colorful board shorts. His typical impeccable attire, tailored suits and polished shoes, had been traded for something far more casual, allowing his personality to shine through in this vibrant setting. He waddled slightly, his penguin-like gait exaggerated as he adjusted to the unfamiliar and carefree atmosphere, but there was something endearing about it that made your heart swell with affection.

“Stop staring,” he grumbled, feigning annoyance, though a playful smirk danced on his lips, betraying his true feelings.

“I can’t help it. You’re adorable,” you teased, playfully reaching up to straighten the sunglasses that perched on his nose, which had slipped slightly from the force of the sun’s rays.

He huffed in mock irritation, but his eyes softened with warmth as he looked down at you. “You’re lucky I like you, doll,” he replied, his voice low and teasing, making you feel all the more cherished.

“I know,” you replied confidently, leaning up to plant a gentle kiss on his cheek. The light blush that crept up his neck, betraying his usual composure, made your heart flutter with delight.

As the wave machine roared to life, producing a sound reminiscent of distant thunder, Oz’s eyes lit up with a mix of curiosity and excitement that you had rarely seen before. Without a moment’s hesitation, you seized his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze as you pulled him toward the inviting, shimmering water.

“Oz, you’re going to love this!” you exclaimed, your enthusiasm infectious.

He grumbled something about being too old for such frivolities, but the moment the first wave crashed against him, soaking his board shorts and splashing water everywhere, his expression shifted dramatically. A genuine, boyish grin spread across his face, lighting up his features, and he instinctively pulled you closer to him, keeping you steady as the waves grew stronger and more formidable.

“You’re right,” he admitted, laughter spilling from his lips as another wave hit, the cool water drenching you both. “This ain’t half bad.”

You wrapped your arms around him, the water swirling around your legs, creating a sensation of freedom and joy. “Told you so,” you replied triumphantly, feeling a sense of victory in convincing him to let loose.

Oz’s hands found their place on your waist, steadying you against the undulating push and pull of the water that surrounded you. The public nature of the setting did nothing to deter him from leaning down, his lips pressing softly against your forehead in a sweet, lingering kiss that seemed to savor the moment.

“Thanks for dragging me out here,” he murmured, his voice low, filled with sincerity and a hint of gratitude.

“Anytime,” you replied, resting your head against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat calming you amidst the splashes and cheers of the park.

The day unfolded like a beautiful tapestry woven with laughter, shared glances, and lighthearted fun. Oz even surprised you by summoning the courage to go down one of the smaller water slides, though he insisted, with a mock-seriousness that was hard to resist, that he was merely “testing it out.” He bought you a delicious ice cream cone from a nearby cart, and when a group of teens recognized him, his protective arm instinctively tightened around your waist. He brushed them off with his usual gruffness, a mix of annoyance and protectiveness surfacing, leaving you both amused and touched by his demeanor.

As the sun began its descent in the sky, casting a warm glow over the water park, you found yourselves back in the wave pool, floating together in the gentle, rhythmic swells. Oz pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded into a soft blur of colors and sounds.

“You make life feel a little less... heavy,” he admitted, his voice low but sincere, carrying a weight of emotion that resonated deep within you.

You smiled, your fingers brushing along his jaw, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your touch. “And you make me feel safe,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper, but it held a truth that was undeniable.

In that fleeting moment, he kissed you then, slow and deliberate, unbothered by the playful chaos that surrounded you. The world faded further away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped in each other’s arms, as if nothing else mattered but this shared moment of connection and joy. It was a kiss that spoke of new experiences, deepening feelings, and the promise of many more adventures together, each one more delightful than the last.

As the day wore on, you convinced Oz to try the lazy river. It wasn’t a hard sell—he liked the idea of floating along without much effort. The two of you grabbed a double tube, and Oz insisted on sitting in the back so he could keep an eye on you.

“This is more my speed,” he said, leaning back as the current carried you both forward. His legs stretched out on either side of the tube, and his hand rested lazily on your knee.

“You’re relaxed for once,” you teased, tilting your head back to smile at him.

“Don’t get used to it,” he shot back, but the corner of his mouth twitched up in a grin.

You reached out to trail your fingers along the water’s surface, the coolness a perfect contrast to the warm sun overhead. When the lazy river passed under a cascading waterfall, you squealed as the droplets splashed over you, and Oz chuckled, shaking his head like he hadn’t been hit too.

“Come on, Oz,” you teased, turning to face him in the tube. “Admit you’re having fun.”

He smirked, his hand slipping up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “I’d have fun anywhere, long as you’re there.”

Your heart skipped a beat at the unexpected sweetness of his gesture, an unanticipated thrill that sent a rush of warmth through you. Before you could fully comprehend what was happening, he leaned in closer, bridging the gap between you, and pressed his lips against yours in a soft, tender kiss. Time seemed to suspend itself in that instant; the lazy current of the day faded into the background, and the outside world dissolved, leaving just the two of you enveloped in a cocoon of intimacy, like a delicate bubble that shielded you from everything else.

As the sun began its slow descent, casting the surroundings in a rich, golden hue that seemed to enhance the beauty of the moment, you playfully persuaded him to take one last plunge down the water slide. It wasn’t the tallest or the fastest slide you had ever encountered, but it held its own kind of excitement, enough to make your stomach flutter with anticipation. You could hear the rush of water beneath you as you both soared down, and laughter erupted between you like a shared secret, echoing joyously against the backdrop of splashes and delighted screams from other park-goers.

Once you reached the bottom, breathless and exhilarated, you began toweling off, the warm sun drying your skin. As you glanced over, you noticed Oz stealing a quick glance at the family locker area nearby. Your attention was drawn to a little boy who was visibly upset, tears streaming down his cheeks, with his goggles hopelessly tangled around his neck. Without waiting for a second thought, Oz crouched down to the child’s level, exuding a surprising gentleness that warmed your heart even more. His typically rugged demeanor softened as he carefully worked to untangle the strap, his movements tender and reassuring.

“Are you good, kid?” he asked, his usually gruff voice adopting a softer tone that made you smile. The little boy nodded, sniffling as he looked up at Oz with wide, awe-filled eyes, as if he were gazing at a superhero come to save the day. It was a sight that struck you—seeing Oz's nurturing side revealed in such an unexpected way.

When Oz finally returned to you, the familiar air of confidence surrounded him once more, but you couldn’t help but notice the lingering warmth in his expression, a hint of pride perhaps, or maybe just the afterglow of kindness.

“You’re such a softie,” you teased playfully, bumping your shoulder against his, relishing the closeness.

“Don’t spread that around,” he muttered, a mock-seriousness in his tone, but you could see the corners of his mouth twitching into a smile. His hand found yours effortlessly as you began walking toward the park exit, fingers intertwining comfortably, solidifying the connection that had blossomed between you. The day had been filled with laughter and unexpected moments, but this—this simple act of holding hands—felt like the sweetest cherry on top of a perfect day.

By the time you got home, the two of you were exhausted but happy. As you collapsed onto the couch together, Oz wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Today wasn’t so bad,” he admitted, his voice low.

You laughed, snuggling against him. “Told you you’d have fun.”

He didn’t respond, just pressed a kiss to your temple, letting the silence speak for itself.

[fantastic-nonsense]

society if Two-Face was Batman's arch-nemesis instead of the Joker:

[savvy-devine666]

Chapters: 32/? Fandom: Helluva Boss (Web Series) Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Octavia Goetia/Original Female Character(s), Millie/Moxxie (Helluva Boss), Blitzo/Stolas Goetia Characters: Stolas Goetia, Stella Goetia, Octavia Goetia, Millie (Helluva Boss), Moxxie (Helluva Boss), Hellhound OC - Character, Original Female Character(s), Blitzo (Helluva Boss), Robo Fizz (Helluva Boss), Striker (Helluva Boss), Loona (Helluva Boss), Wally Wackford Additional Tags: Humor, Romance, Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Family, Dysfunctional Family, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Class Differences, Minor Character Death, Angst, Kidnapping, threat, Canon-Typical Violence, Language, emetophobia warning, Homophobia, Canon-Typical Racism, Slice of Life Summary:

Storm is the Hellhound of Octavia Goetia, this collection of oneshots explores how the pairs relationship changes as it deepens and love forms in the midst of hate, confusion, change and adversity.

[drizzledrawings]

Flora and her DAD!!! (Henry) Her gay cowboy parental figure!! And nothing bad happens to them ever!!! I promise

[kev-day]

ok yesterday i saw a post about how kevin lost $10 in a bet about neil which was silly goofy and whatever but it got me to thinking about how actually kevin has so much faith in his people that i could bawl my eyes out.

[mysicklove]

𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍

DAY 15: HYBRIDS

With: Megumi Fushiguro

Word Count: 2.4k

Warnings: Sub + cat hybrid! Megumi, AFAB + owner! reader but no pronouns, reader is implied to be smaller than him, vaginal penetration, creampie, slight breeding kink, birthcontrol mentioned and used, purring/licking/mewling, he calls you his "mate" and u tease him bout it, needy megumi,

A/N: i had alot of fun with this one tbh. but also I usually write gn! reader, so dealing with readers pleasure is so hard to write about lol. i am so used to only catering to what feels good to the character.

Owning a cat was way easier than you thought it was going to be. Well, at least owning a cat hybrid was. Megumi, your adorable, slightly temperamental, and moody black cat has been living with you for about five years now, and you love him desperately.

He stays at home while you go off to work each day, but he never complains, instead just sleeps the day away. In fact, you tried introducing him to the neighbor’s hybrid, a lab named Yuuji as a playmate, but he blatantly refused, growing annoyed almost immediately at how upbeat the dog was. Megumi preferred silence, sunbathing, sleeping, and your full attention. He was okay being at home alone until you got back.

He currently lays on the carpet, curling up in the warmth of the light, and dozing off when he hears the sound of your keys working their way into the hole. His ears dart toward the noise, and a smile creeps up his face, but his eyes remain shut, and he pretends to be asleep.

You open the door and sigh, eyes darting around the apartment to find your cat. When you catch him on the floor sleeping, you smile, shutting the door behind you and setting your stuff down on the counter. You make your way over him, dropping to your knees, and then finally laying down next to him. 

You stare at his relaxed, content face, and begin to reach out to touch him affectionately. He grabs your hand before you make contact with his skin, and pulls it forward, pulling you into his chest. Then he wraps his arms around your boddy, intertwines the two of your legs, and nuzzles his face on top of your head, purring gently. 

“Hi Megumi,” You mumble against his chest. “You are so warm.”

He nods, tail swinging behind him. “Been in the sun all day,” He breathes, and you hum, curling up against him. “...Missed you,” Megumi whispers lowly, still rubbing his cheek against your head.

You chuckle at him. “Oh whose this? My Megumi would never say something so sappy,” You tease, pulling away to look up at him.

He pouts, ears falling flat on his head as he rolls his eyes. “Am I not allowed to miss my mate?” He complains, but licks a stripe up your hair, still purring. 

You groan when you feel his inhumane tongue lick your face. “Hey, stop it. No grooming, humans don’t do this.” You try to push him away, but he ignores you, wrapping his arms tighter around you and pulling you closer. 

His purrs grow louder when you finally give up, and you watch his tail swing back and forth from behind him. He licks at your face, and then your hair, and finally your neck. You shiver slightly, still not used to the attention even after all these years. “You stink,” Megumi mumbles into your neck, using his tongue to wipe away some of the gross scents that clung to you.

“You want me to take a shower?” 

He grips you harder, shaking his head into your skin. You feel his crotch press into your backside, and you raise your eyebrows, but don’t say anything. “S’fine. I don't like it when my mate smells like other men though.” He rubs his neck onto any surface he can, scent marking you as his.

You roll your eyes, but smile. He was being strangely affectionate today. Usually, it was you who has to initiate physical contact and doting words. “Just coworkers, possessive cat. What’s got you all worked up today?”

His hips move closer to yours, beginning to grind himself on you. “Wanna do it,” he whispers, so low that you could barely hear him. His cheeks pinken, but you can't see them, so you cant tease him about it.

You move your hips backward, meeting him halfway. He lets out an airy breath onto the back of your neck, and you shiver at the feeling. “Yeah? You haven’t been thinking about it all day, have you?”

He feels his cheeks begin to burn. “Shut up.” A definite yes. His semi-hard cock continues to grind on your clothes, and you sigh at the feeling. You quickly manevour yourself to turn to look at him, and he pouts slightly, ears drooping, from the loss of stimulation. You roll your eyes with a grin, and tug at his pants. “Right now? H-Here?” He stutters, but helps you pull down his pants, obviously not too against the idea.

“Don’t get so nervous on me now. What happened to my brave cat who was basically grinding himself on me just a couple seconds ago?” You tease, kissing at his neck and pulling a small mewl from him. He gulps, baring his neck slightly to let you plant more kisses on it. He grips onto the back of your head with shaky hands, encouraging the action.

You slip your hands into his boxers and he gasps, mouth hanging slightly open and eyes squeezing shut from the attention. You pull it out, and then proceed to pull your pants down. “Hurry,” He demands, tilting your head up to kiss you. 

It's a desperate sort of kiss, both of his hands cup your face and bring you impossibly closer to him. It makes it harder to remove your clothing, and you can feel him begin to grind onto your stomach. 

You are forced to pull away to unbutton your pants, and he whines in complaint. “Such a spoiled brat,” You tease affectionately, “Cant go one minute without being touched? Are all kitties this needy?”

He looks away from you, pouting again, but you just giggle and kiss his jaw, finally removing your panties. “Don’t know. Don’t wanna think bout it. Do you not like when I am needy?”

He holds back a smug smile, knowing that this will definitely give him brownie points. He is right of course, because the next second you are littering his face and neck with kisses, while he purrs, soaking all the attention up. “Of course not. You are so cute needy.” 

He nods, smart enough to know that an argument will break out if he doesn't. So he smiles contently, melting under you and your soft touches. Finally, you grab his cock and press it against your entrance. Megumis mouth waters at the feeling, the warm welcoming sensation of your folds. 

“Do you…uh…Don't you need to be prepp–oh fuck,” He groans, throwing his head back as you sink onto his cock without much hesitation. You sigh into his chest, adjusting to his length — he was slightly bigger than adverage, and every time you take it, it always feels like a stretch, but it was an addicting sensation.

The two of you turn to where he lays on his back, and you on top of him, chest to chest. He grabs at your hips, hands shaking as he restrains himself from moving you up and down on his length. His eyes are screwed shut and his ears are pinned to his head. “Hey, relax. Why are you so tense? It’s okay for you to move, sweetheart.”

He heaves a sigh of relief, and nods, while you bring your hands up to pet his ears. He leans into the touch, purrs increasing in volume as he lifts your hips up and back down. He repeats the motion a couple of time, pants getting louder and half lidded eyes peering down at you. You in return have your own blush, its softer than his, but definitely noticeable. “I…Can I…Fuck this is so–Can I thrust…into you?”

He fumes red, and he turns his face into the carpet, embarrassed by his lewd words. Even after all this time, he is unbelievably shy, and can never voice what he wants in bed. “So polite! Must of trained you well.” He nods, ears flickering to you at your sweet words. “Of course, kitty. Dont gotta ask, ‘m all yours.”

Immediately he wraps his arms around you, pinning you to his chest, and begins to thrust upward. Your eyes widen slightly at his pace, and the roughness of it all, and you groan into his skin. He moans at the feeling, breath heavy, matching his pace. “Oh fuck. This. This I was–fuckkk—waiting for this all day!”

You pant into his chest, a smile pulling at your lips. “Y-Yeah?” You encourage, and he nods with a hum. Loud slapping of skin on skin fills the room, and his tail reaches up to wrap around your wrist. His cheeks are stained a permanent pink, and his chest rises and falls quickly with every pant. 

You managed to shakily reach up to his ears, grabbing the both of them and giving them a small tug. He yelps slightly, back arching, but then moans into the touch. It was cute, he was super temperamental about the black ears. On some days he wanted you to pet and rub them, on others he wanted you to pull and abuse the sensitive areas. Today was the latter.

“Was–Was fucking my hand thinking bout you. Not as good. My mate is so warm,” His voice vibrates with a purr, and you chuckle at him above the lewd noises. It was endearing to watch his body succumb to pleasure. His voice always held a purr, but he still managed to make every human like sound with the addition to the vibration.

Eventually he flips the two of you over, his arms caging you in under him, as he licks and kisses your neck. “Mhmmm. Mine, mine, my mate. Love you. Love you so much,” He chants into your ear, biting at the lobe while continuing to thrust into you at a merciless pace.

“S-So talkative today,” You mumble, gripping onto the carpet at a particularly harsh thrust. Usually, you were the one leading the dirty talk. He whimpers at the words, pressing his entire body on top of yours. He liked to be touching, and as much skin as he could, the better, but of course he would never admit that outloud. 

“Dont know why. Just missed you. Fuck I missed you. Why do you leave for so long?” He complains between breaths, his voice holding a dramatic whine to it. He nuzzles his face into your neck, scenting the area while you reach back and scratch his ears. “Why–Why…Hah.. Can’t you stay here with me? Th-Thought you loved me.”

He was being unreasonable and the both of you knew it, but today he was being weirdly sappy and clingy, so you didn’t mind having to reassure him. “Love you so much. You know why.” You feel his teeth graze into your skin, and he probably has his ears pinned back. “Ill try to work from home more, how does that sound?”

He nods, mewling happily to himself. Then he goes back to panting into your skin, licking and biting any surface he can lay his mouth on. You dont try to stop him, knowing if you do, he will probably get all pouty.

“Can I cum? P-Please? Been good, right?” He hasn’t really, other than the sweet words he has let out, he has not be gentle at all. You will probably be stumbling by tomorrow. His pace is desperate, frantic even, that makes you begin to lose your mind.

But he was feeling good, and your thoughts were draining anyways. “Sure, love, I’m c-close too,” You sigh, closing your eyes and pressing your face against the carpet as you begin to feel that tightening feeling build up.

He gulps and nods, kissing your cheek. “Inside? Please?” His words come out as a whisper, obviously hesitant about the question. He has been day dreaming about this for weeks, to finally cum inside you, but never mustered up the courage to ask. Today, he was feeling good, and you seemed to be happy at his behavior, so it was the best time to ask.

Your orgasm hits you out of the blue, and you are left trembling on the floor. Your eyes roll back slightly and you heave, “S’fine Megumi. J-Just cum!” You were on birthcontrol, it was okay just this once. Your thoughts were scrambled from the intensity of your orgasm.

His pace picks up again and you shiver at the feeling, while he lets out low mewls and purrs, happy at your choice. “Im cumming. Thank you, thank you,” He mumbles into your ear, and then latches onto your neck as he shoves himself as deep inside of you as possible, and cums.

He throws his head back and groans, arms trembling. It feels so much better than cumming inside a condom or pulling out. You are so warm, and the idea of the possibility of him breeding you, leaves him shivering with glee. He would never tell you this of course, you would most definitely call him a perv or an animal.

He collapses on top of you, practically glowing, and purring happily from above. He flips the two of you over so that you are back on his chest, peering up at him. His face is damp with sweat, and his cheeks are flushed pink, but he wears a small, content smile. 

You feel cum begin to ooze out of you and you groan. “Ugh, now I definitely need a shower.” He cringes at the words, and you laugh. “Can’t believe you hate water, you are such a sterotypical cat.” He frowns, and rolls his eyes, not responding, because you are completely right.

“Aw cmon, mate, dont get all pouty now,” You tease, and his eyes flash to you in an instant. His cheeks turn a vicious red, and he covers his face with his hand,

“...Call me that again,” Megumi whispers, so low that you could barely hear him.

You raise your eyebrows, cocking your head to the side. “My mate?”

He begins to purr again, hands wrapping around your back to pull you up closer to him. He leans in, and hesitantly presses his lips to yours, pulling back slightly to mumble, “'m hard again.”

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[rueclfer]

hihi rue 🤭 could i get an smau with bf!kirishima or shinso + mean!reader who’s kinda js a cunt 🗣️

i need a man to love me at my bitchiest

HI ELLE <3 a billion years later i hope u r still in ur kiri era

black cat // eijirou kirishima

-

mha tag: @lotuslovers

[edorazzi]

Page 40 of my Miraculous Mentor AU comic A Matter of Trust - we're just about halfway through! In which Felix is left without Ladybug or a Miraculous, and butterflies love open windows... 🦋🪟

Index | Start | Prev | Next

Weekly updates each Sunday! You can also read ahead early on Patreon, and/or buy me a Ko-fi if you'd like to support my work! 💖

[yanderejustforyou]

The Penguin - Oz fic

I need a good hurt/ comfort fic please

Oz finds his mother has finally passed on

I’m assuming he would be extremely upset - possible ugly cry

(Comfort by reader eventually but would love to read how he goes through it just the despair / anger - emotions )

** I absolutely adore your writing thank you for taking requests **

love this concept

The silence of the mansion pressed in on Oz, a heavy, velvet curtain draped over every corner. It wasn't the usual quiet, the comfortable hush of a large, rarely-used home; it was a suffocating stillness, thick with the absence of her voice, her presence. He stood rooted to the spot in the middle of the drawing room, the ornate rug a blur beneath his feet as he stared at the obituary in his hand. It was a small thing, printed on thin, off-white paper, the stark black letters detailing her life, or rather, her death. It was unassuming, easily dismissed, but in his grasp, it felt like a lead weight, dragging him down into a bottomless abyss. His mother was gone. The woman whose sharp wit and even sharper tongue had been his north star, the woman who had shaped him, molded him, driven him—vanished.

He hadn't expected the news to hit him like this, a physical blow that stole the air from his lungs. For years, he had lived under the shadow of her fragility, the constant, gnawing anxiety that any day could be her last. He'd meticulously planned for this moment, building walls of stoicism, anticipating the hollow ache her absence would leave. He'd thought himself prepared. He’d even envisioned scenarios, running through different reactions, but nothing, not in his most grim musings, could have prepared him for this crushing emptiness, this void that seemed to echo with every beat of his heart.

A tremor ran through his hand, crumpling the fragile paper into a tight ball. His jaw clenched, the muscles hard as granite beneath his skin. His chest felt heavy, each breath a labored effort as if the air itself had thickened and become viscous. A molten anger, long suppressed, began to churn beneath the surface, a dark tide threatening to break free. He felt his control slipping, the carefully constructed facade of calm cracking under the weight of his pain. His fingers curled inward, his nails biting into the flesh of his palm, small crescents of pain a fleeting distraction from the larger torment.

His eyes burned, the sensation similar to staring into a fire, but no tears came. Not yet. They were forbidden, a weakness he wouldn’t allow himself to indulge. Not in public, not in front of the staff, and definitely not in front of himself. He was Oswald, the impenetrable. To reveal this vulnerability was to betray the lessons she had drilled into him.

With a harsh, ragged exhale that sounded more like a snarl, he turned and slammed his fist against the wall. The impact reverberated through the room, the antique picture frames hanging precariously, rattling like bones. "Why did you leave me, huh?" he growled, his voice a low, guttural sound, trembling like a broken string. "Why? What the hell am I supposed to do without you?" His words were laced with a raw, wounded anger that he couldn’t contain any longer. The question hung in the air, accusatory and desperate.

But the anger offered no solace, no real relief. It was a fleeting spark, an attempt to ignite against the overwhelming darkness. It only compounded the emptiness, making the void feel even deeper, more profound. His heart was a hollow pit, an echo chamber of loss, and no amount of fury could begin to fill it. He felt adrift, unanchored.

His breathing became erratic, shallow gasps that did little to ease the pressure in his chest. He slid down the wall, the cool, smooth plaster a stark contrast to the inner fire that raged within him. His body trembled violently, small shudders running through him like an earthquake. He had never allowed himself the luxury of tears, not since he was a small boy. Not since she had instilled in him the harsh lesson that the world would offer no kindness, no mercy. But now, in the deafening echo of her absence, he felt as if the floodgates were about to burst open, the accumulated years of suppressed emotion threatening to drown him. He remembered her saying, "Tears are for the weak, Oswald. Never let them see you cry."

His hands shook, clumsy and uncoordinated, as he swiped at his face, trying to erase the evidence of his inner turmoil. His anger, a dark, bitter taste in his mouth, mingled with a raw, aching grief that felt like his very chest was being ripped apart. He could feel the phantom ache of her hand in his as if they were still connected, a tangible reminder that she was truly gone.

“Please…” he whispered, a broken, desperate plea to the empty room. “Please…come back…” The words were a strangled sob, a desperate prayer that he knew would never be answered. He felt absurd even uttering them but the words tumbled from his lips anyway.

But there was no answer. Only the suffocating silence, amplified by the absence of her laughter, her sharp commands, her familiar presence that had always been the cornerstone of his world. Now, it was just him, alone, trapped in the vast emptiness of the mansion and his grief.

His breath hitched in his throat again, a strangled gasp, as the tears finally came, the pent-up emotion finally breaking free. It was an overwhelming surge, a tidal wave of grief that swept away every pretense of composure. His face contorted, the muscles twisted with pain as he buried his head in his hands, unable to hold it back any longer. The weight of his loss crushed him, the sobs racking his body with a painful intensity he'd never experienced.

In the midst of his wrenching sobs, the door creaked open, the sound sharp and intrusive in the otherwise silent room. His head snapped up, his eyes red-rimmed and swollen, and for a fleeting moment, he almost wished he could disappear, vanish into the very wallpaper, hide away from the world—hide away from someone seeing him so utterly broken, so shockingly vulnerable. The thought was almost as painful as the grief itself.

But then he saw you, standing in the doorway, bathed in the soft light, and the immediate urge to hide ebbed, replaced with a flicker of something that felt like…hope? Your face was etched with concern, your eyebrows furrowed as you took in his disheveled state. Your presence was a quiet, grounding force in the chaos of his emotions. You didn't speak, just stood there a moment, offering him space before you slowly walked toward him, your footsteps soft and deliberate on the polished hardwood floor. It was a simple yet powerful act of support.

“Oz…” Your voice was gentle, a soothing balm to his raw, exposed nerves. It was a voice laced with kindness, a stark contrast to the harshness of his own thoughts. "I’m so sorry." The words, although simple, seemed to cut through the fog of his grief, validating his feelings with a simple truth.

He couldn’t bring himself to look at you fully, his gaze fixed on a point somewhere just beyond your shoulder. His vision was blurred with tears, his breath ragged and uneven. He felt so utterly lost, a ship adrift in a storm-tossed sea. It wasn’t just grief; it was the gnawing loneliness that had been his constant companion, a shadow that stretched back through his entire life. He felt unmoored, directionless without her guiding hand.

"I… I don’t know how to do this," he said, his voice a trembling whisper, fragmented with pain. "She…she was all I had. All I had left." His voice cracked on the last words, the admission of his vulnerability a small, fragile thing, and a fresh wave of emotion hit him like a rogue wave, threatening to pull him under. He surrendered to it, the sobs shaking his body, the grief too powerful to contain.

You knelt beside him, letting the silence stretch between you. Your hand reached out, resting gently on his trembling arm. His body stiffened at the touch, the instinct to recoil almost overwhelming, but the warmth that emanated from your touch didn't let go. It was a small gesture of support, a silent offering of understanding.

"You don't have to do this alone, Oz," you said softly, your voice full of warmth and compassion, a haven in the raging storm of his grief. "I'm here for you. It's okay to feel everything you're feeling right now. You don't have to be strong all the time." Your words were like a soothing balm, a gentle reminder that it was okay to be weak, okay to break down.

He looked at you, his face flushed and tear-streaked, a confusing mix of disbelief and raw, unfiltered pain in his eyes. He didn’t understand why you would offer him this kindness, why you would choose to be here, with him. He didn’t deserve it, didn’t deserve your care. But in that moment, he needed it more than anything, a lifeline in a sea of despair. He needed someone to remind him that he was still human, still capable of feeling something other than rage and bitterness.

“I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice small and fragile, the confession almost as painful as the grief itself. “I’m scared of being alone.” The fear was raw, naked, a glimpse into the vulnerability he had tried so hard to hide.

“You don’t have to be alone anymore,” you whispered, your hand now moving to gently cup his cheek, your touch feather-light but firm. “I’m here. And I’m not going anywhere.” Your words were a promise, a silent vow to stand by him.

He leaned into your touch, finally surrendering to the moment, letting himself break down in a way he hadn't allowed himself before. He let go of the pretense, the carefully constructed walls, and simply allowed himself to feel. You didn’t say anything else, just held him, offering the quiet, comforting presence that he needed. The steady, rhythmic movement of your hand on his back was a quiet reassurance, a silent promise that he wasn't entirely alone. For the first time in so long, someone cared enough to be there, to share his burden. And for a brief moment, Oz allowed himself to believe it.

The tears slowly subsided, the storm within him gradually calming, although his chest still trembled with each uneven breath. The worst of it had passed, the initial shock giving way to a quieter, more subdued grief. He still didn’t have the answers, didn’t know how to navigate the world without her. But with you by his side, just for now, he didn’t feel quite as adrift, quite as utterly alone as he had moments before. There was a flicker of something that felt like…hope, and a strange sense of peace.

"I don't know what to do without her," he whispered, his voice hoarse, the words barely above a breath.

"Take it one step at a time," you said softly, your voice the quiet reassurance he desperately needed. "You don't have to have all the answers right now. You just have to breathe, and I'll be here." Your words were simple, yet profound, a promise of unwavering support.

Oz closed his eyes, the tightness in his chest easing for just a moment, a small reprieve from the weight of his loss. It wasn't enough to erase the pain, the gnawing emptiness, but it was something. And for now, that small flicker of hope, the quiet promise of your presence, was enough.

[ryllen]

sebek, you, & fae trap that tried to abduct u

[brainrotcharacters]

deadclaws badassery where it's revealed Wade and Logan tested the distance on Logan's hearing.

Watch them hundreds of feet away from each other in the battlefield and all it takes to set Wolverine loose is for Deadpool to mutter "Logan."

gif credits to original owners!

[satvrndoll]

sonic and shadow say...

[hymnoeides]

Finally got the balls to watch the current eps for Yingdu Arc and . Well.. cheers to my doomed timeline fuckery butterfly yaois, I had to do this🥺

[f1-stuff]

what did Carlos report to Charles' gf...?

[royalarchivist]

Pac: Do you think there's other way to find some sharestones over here? Nah, no, right?

Fit: Probably not.

Pac: Maybe. Ah– Fitch! Fitch! [Fit's name with an accent]

Fit: Oh– OH– Pac Pac Pac!

Pac: [In a panicked voice] FITCH!

Fit: Ok, you're good, I got you, I got you. Yeah, just stay over here, stay over here. Behind me, behind me.

Pac: Yeah, I'm good, I'm good, oh my god. [Laughs] I even changed language, you know? [Laughs]

Fit: [Laughs] All right, we got this.

Pac: I start screaming your name in Portuguese.

Fit: [Laughs] As soon as I hear "Fitch", I'm like, "Ohhh boy, sht's about to get real." [Checking his chat messages] Oh, Phil says it's important–