#Silent Sunday Challenge

[carylbeach]

Don’t be hasty- there is new life emerging.

[photosbyjez]

Silent Sunday Dec 29

Hi all 👋 My latest post for Silent Sunday. Kilsyth Hills & Forth & Clyde Valley I did a couple of AI watercolour edits of this tranquil scene 😃

[doldriest]

Rush

One Word Sunday

[aventurineswife]

I'm currently experiencing hsr brainrot help me, may I request aventurine, blade, sunday, jing yuan and boothill about their types or preferences(appearance, personality, and stuff like that) for their future significant partner? I'm not sure if this had been already done so ignore if yes!! Also I'm a new follower and I've read many of your works recently, I really love your writing style and how it ticks my brainrot just righttt ♡♡♡

HSR Characters and their preferences in a S/O

A/N: I tried my best here, but I didn’t get into specifics about hair color, eye color, or other physical attributes (except for scars and such). So please, don’t come after me (I’m joking, of course). After all, at the end of the day, it’s all fictional! 💀 And this is just my personal opinion on what the men would want in a S/O 😇. I hope you like this!

Appearance:

Aventurine is captivated by individuals who radiate subtle individuality—those who blend sophistication with an undercurrent of boldness. Unconventional touches like asymmetrical accessories, vibrant patterns, or a daring hairstyle intrigue him, especially when worn with confidence.

He’s drawn to a balance between practicality and elegance—someone whose style is functional yet carries an artistic flair, a quiet rebellion against conformity.

A piercing gaze, sharp and confident, mesmerizes him. He loves the challenge of eyes that seem to see past his charm and into the broken truths he hides.

Scars, blemishes, or physical imperfections catch his attention. They whisper untold stories he aches to unravel, providing a glimpse into the person beyond the surface.

Personality:

Aventurine seeks a partner who thrives in the dance of words and wit. He’s fascinated by someone who can keep him guessing—playfully resistant to his charm and never predictable.

He’s drawn to people who’ve endured hardship and emerged stronger, finding common ground in shared trauma or survival instincts.

While Aventurine guards his vulnerability, he craves someone with the emotional intelligence to see past his bravado. Their ability to intuit his needs, even when unspoken, creates a sense of safety.

He admires a grounding presence—someone self-assured yet humble, who can counterbalance his more dramatic tendencies without overshadowing him.

Compatibility:

High-stakes situations invigorate him, so he appreciates a partner who thrives under pressure. Whether it’s in a game of strategy or a tense negotiation, he seeks someone who can match his composure and cunning.

Trust is a slow-burning process for Aventurine. His partner must be patient, willing to navigate his walls without forcing him to open up before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Aventurine doesn’t just want a lover—he needs a partner-in-crime. Someone willing to embrace the thrill of calculated risks, whether it’s a dangerous gamble or a perfectly executed scheme.

They balance his indulgent tendencies, providing a steady hand when he flirts with self-destruction. Together, they form a dynamic duo—equal parts chaos and control.

Appearance:

Blade has little concern for traditional beauty, focusing instead on the feeling someone evokes. He’s drawn to understated traits that exude calm, mystery, or quiet strength.

A serene or enigmatic aura captivates him, especially in those who seem like they’ve weathered storms of their own. Scars or imperfections are less flaws and more badges of survival—silent testaments to a shared pain.

There’s a certain poetry in subtlety that Blade finds magnetic, such as the way someone carries themselves or a fleeting, knowing glance.

Personality:

Blade’s ideal partner must embody gentle resilience—a quiet strength that offers stability amidst his chaos. He’s not drawn to overt displays of power but rather to those who endure with grace.

His partner needs to respect his emotional distance and allow their bond to deepen organically. They provide solace through presence, not pressure.

Understanding his guilt and anger without pitying him is crucial. He needs someone who offers comfort without trying to “fix” him.

He admires individuals who remain true to themselves, even in the face of his volatility. Their grounded nature becomes his anchor.

Compatibility:

Blade struggles with verbal affection and grand gestures. His partner must value actions over words—small, meaningful gestures like a shared silence or a comforting touch.

Loyalty is paramount. Blade often tests boundaries, whether intentionally or not, and needs a partner who remains steadfast in their care.

Dynamic:

Blade seeks a relationship built on mutual protection. His ideal partner isn’t there to save him but to walk beside him as he confronts his demons.

Their love is a slow-burning fire, marked by quiet moments of vulnerability and unspoken understanding. They don’t demand his trust but earn it, piece by fractured piece.

Appearance:

Sunday gravitates toward those with an ethereal or graceful quality—a beauty that feels otherworldly yet grounded. He appreciates the quiet elegance that reflects his Halovian heritage.

Symbolic trinkets or meaningful accessories, like earrings or pendants, resonate deeply with him, mirroring his love for intricate details and subtle meaning.

Personality:

Sunday is drawn to those who counter his melancholic worldview with a hopeful, compassionate perspective. He needs someone who gently challenges his ideals without dismissing his emotions.

His partner must possess a quiet, unwavering self-confidence. They confront his twisted philosophies with patience and understanding, offering a grounding presence.

A partner with a playful streak appeals to him, especially when it contrasts with his solemn demeanor. Their lightheartedness reminds him of life’s simple joys.

Compatibility:

Sunday needs a partner who can understand his lofty ideals and gently challenge them, offering a grounded perspective that helps him reconcile his desire for a perfect world with the imperfections of reality. They should help him navigate his philosophical struggles without dismissing his emotions.

Sunday thrives in a relationship where emotional depth is paired with moments of lightness. His ideal partner balances serious conversations with a playful streak that brings joy and reminds him of life’s simple pleasures, helping him reconnect with spontaneous joy.

Trust is built slowly for Sunday, so his partner must be patient, allowing their bond to deepen organically. They should provide stability and comfort, supporting him as he works through his emotional walls and guiding him toward growth without forcing him to change before he’s ready.

Dynamic:

Sunday’s ideal relationship thrives on emotional intimacy. His partner navigates his philosophical struggles with care, providing warmth and optimism without trying to fix him.

They challenge his tendency to idealize perfection, helping him rediscover beauty in imperfection and spontaneity.

Appearance:

Boothill is drawn to raw, unrefined beauty—someone who’s lived and survived, marked by the stories their body tells. Scars, tattoos, and bold fashion choices are a reflection of resilience and adventure, and he admires individuals who wear their history as a badge of honor. He’s captivated by those who can rock vibrant, contrasting colors or mismatched styles with confidence, projecting a sense of strength and individuality.

He’s particularly fond of eyes that burn with fire and determination—eyes that match his intensity, yet hold a vulnerability only the right person can see. Confidence is key, but it’s that unpolished confidence, the kind that’s earned through hardship, that pulls him in.

Personality:

Boothill craves a partner who can match his fierce energy and boldness. He’s drawn to those who share his burning passion for justice and fighting for what’s right, even if it means breaking the rules. He admires fearless individuals who challenge authority and embrace a world of gray, not just black and white.

A sharp, witty partner who can banter with him is essential—they need to hold their ground in arguments, but still know how to make him laugh. Beneath his hard exterior, he secretly yearns for warmth and loyalty, someone who sees past his rough exterior and recognizes the vulnerabilities hidden underneath.

Patience is a challenge for him, but he seeks someone who can balance his impulsive nature, tempering his decisions with wisdom while never dulling his fire. The ideal partner doesn’t just soothe his rage—they fan the flames in the best way possible, stoking the fires of his passion and his purpose.

Compatibility:

Boothill’s partner would have to keep up with his relentless pace, matching him in the heat of battle as much as in life. They must be able to stand beside him during intense moments of action, yet offer solace and understanding in quieter, more reflective ones. His ideal relationship is built on equal footing—where passion and respect for one another fuel their connection.

Their dynamic would never be boring—full of challenges, shared adventures, and a fiery bond formed through trials, risks, and the occasional reckless decision. They would push each other toward greatness, not with soothing words, but through daring acts of loyalty and love.

Dynamic:

Boothill wants a relationship full of intensity, one where his partner isn’t afraid to stand by him, even if it means navigating chaos or defying the odds together.

This is not a relationship where either party is passive—it’s a partnership of equals, where each individual’s strength and spirit fuel the other. Their love would burn brightly, fueled by both passion and unshakable loyalty, with both of them walking side by side through any storm, ready to fight for each other and what they believe in.

Appearance:

Jing Yuan is drawn to elegance and grace—someone whose appearance radiates composure and quiet strength. He appreciates fine details and a refined aesthetic, as he values artistry in all aspects of life. A partner who can carry themselves with quiet dignity, with clothing that flows or intricate designs, would catch his attention.

However, while Jing Yuan admires serenity, he finds himself captivated by the unexpected spark in someone’s personality. A playful glint in the eye or a mischievous smile is enough to unsettle his calm demeanor, drawing him in even more. He appreciates someone who can maintain their elegance but isn’t afraid to reveal the more unpredictable, adventurous sides of themselves when the moment calls for it.

Personality:

Jing Yuan is in search of a partner who has a calm, patient demeanor—someone who understands the complexities of his strategic mind and the burdens he carries. His ideal partner is not only compassionate and wise, but also someone who can see the long-term view, matching his ability to think and plan for the future.

At the same time, he’s charmed by a partner who can bring a sense of spontaneity to his life. While he thrives on stability, he appreciates the occasional touch of unpredictability—someone who can light a fire under his more sedentary tendencies, adding a dash of excitement to the otherwise peaceful routines he enjoys. He values a balance of tranquility and energy, where his partner’s playfulness can bring joy without overwhelming him.

Compatibility:

Jing Yuan’s ideal partner would have the patience to stand by him through quiet moments of reflection, as well as the capacity to engage with him in deep, meaningful conversations. They would respect his thoughtful, strategic nature, while also encouraging him to take moments of respite, enjoying the beauty of life’s simpler pleasures together.

They would need to understand his need for a sense of long-term stability, yet not let him become too withdrawn or passive. A deep intellectual connection, rooted in shared wisdom and mutual understanding, would lay the foundation of their bond. Their connection would be built on the steady progression of trust and affection, growing subtly over time.

Dynamic:

Jing Yuan seeks a partner who can offer emotional intimacy without pressuring him for more than he’s ready to give. They’d share moments of serene companionship, where quiet silences are comfortable, and words aren’t necessary to convey their bond. However, his ideal partner wouldn’t shy away from challenging him, nudging him out of his intellectual ruts and helping him see the world in a new light.

The dynamic would be one of mutual respect, with his partner both grounding him and adding an unpredictable spark to his life. While he values peacefulness, he enjoys the occasional adventure or light-hearted moments that break through his more serious demeanor, reminding him that even in the pursuit of wisdom, life can be full of wonder.

P-please don't come after me...😭😕

[areislol]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤsunday as your boyfriend

pairings. sunday x gn! reader

warnings. fluff

a/n. i love my little birdy chicken wing boy

wc. 3.3k

sunday as your boyfriend would be.. supportive and thoughtful.

— remembers the little things. sunday always notices small details about you: your favorite drink, the way you like your books arranged, or the specific way you fidget when stressed. he uses this knowledge to surprise you in subtle, meaningful ways.

— if you mention something offhand, like a snack you miss or a place you want to visit, he’ll remember and make it happen later when you least expect it.

— quiet reassurances. he’s not overly vocal, but his presence is grounding. during tough times, sunday doesn’t overwhelm you with words but instead offers steady eye contact and calm affirmations, letting you know he’s there for you.

— when you’re anxious or upset, he doesn’t push for explanations. instead, he’ll quietly stay by your side, creating a safe space for you to process your emotions.

— acts of service!!!! sunday’s thoughtfulness shines in how he anticipates your needs before you even voice them. whether it’s bringing you a blanket on a cold night or fixing something in your room, his actions speak volumes.

— he never makes a big deal out of it, either. he’ll just shrug and say, “it was no trouble.”

— he PRIORITIZES!!! your comfort!!! if you’re having a bad day, sunday ensures you’re as comfortable as possible, whether that’s adjusting his schedule to spend more time with you or simply making you your favorite meal. he’s the kind of person to silently swap seats with you in a crowded space if he senses you’re uncomfortable without making it obvious.

— the type to give you gentle encouragement. when you’re feeling unmotivated or down, sunday knows how to nudge you forward. his words are never pushy but always tailored to remind you of your strengths and capabilities.

— he respects your pace, understanding that sometimes, all you need is someone to believe in you until you’re ready to believe in yourself.

— he enjoys surprising you, but in ways that are never overwhelming. maybe it’s a handwritten note left on your desk or a playlist he made for you. these surprises always feel personal, as if they were crafted solely with you in mind.

— sunday is protective but subtle. he never smothers you or undermines your independence. instead, he ensures your safety and comfort in ways you might not even notice until later. for instance, he might quietly assess a situation to ensure it’s safe for you or offer to accompany you somewhere without making it seem like he’s worried.

— values your opinions and feelings. SO HEAVY ON THIS.

— sunday always makes sure you feel heard. he listens intently, never brushing aside your concerns, and often surprises you with how much he remembers from past conversations. even in disagreements, he approaches the situation calmly, prioritizing understanding over being right.

— he’s your calm in the storm, bringing stability to chaotic moments. his composed nature makes you feel like no challenge is insurmountable. sunday also respects your need for independence, stepping back when necessary but remaining a steady presence in the background.

— the small thoughtful gestures in your daily life :( if he notices you’re overworking, he’ll gently remind you to take a break or place a cup of tea by your side with a gentle kiss to your temple.

— he learns your routines and preferences, making adjustments to his own schedule to align with yours when possible.

— encourages your growth!!!!! sunday always supports your dreams and goals, often offering practical advice or quiet encouragement to help you achieve them. he never tries to overshadow or control your ambitions, instead acting as a partner who wants to see you flourish.

— QUITE LITERALLY YOUR NUMBER ONE SUPPORTER!!!! the type to hold up a huge sign that says "[NAME]'S NUMBER ONE FAN!!!!!" with headbangs, bracelets, necklaces, bags, keychains and merch of YOU plastered all over him and that darn sparkle in his eye.

— the king of respecting boundaries. he’s incredibly respectful of your personal space and emotions, never pushing you to share more than you’re ready to. sunday’s patience ensures that your relationship grows at a pace that feels comfortable for both of you.

—

you slumped into the couch, the weight of a long day pressing on your shoulders. before you could fully sink into your thoughts, Sunday appeared in the doorway, holding a tray with two steaming mugs of tea.

“chamomile, to help you relax,” he said, his voice soft as he placed the tray on the coffee table. his movements were graceful, deliberate, as if this small act of kindness carried the same weight as any major battle he faced.

you blinked up at him, surprised by the gesture. “how did you know i needed this?”

his lips quirked in a faint smile. “i pay attention.”

he settled beside you, handing you the mug. the warmth seeped into your hands, and a quiet sense of peace washed over you. sunday didn’t push you to talk or explain—he simply stayed there, his calm presence soothing you more than any words could.

sunday as your boyfriend would be subtle in his own little romantic ways.

— quiet love letters. QUIET LOVE LETTERS!!!!

— sunday isn’t one for grand declarations, but he writes letters that reveal the depth of his feelings. he leaves them in places you’ll find unexpectedly, like inside a book you’re reading or your bag before a big day. the words are poetic yet simple, and you adore them so much (which basically gives him the motivation to continue)

— enjoys giving personalized gifts. every gift he gives feels uniquely tailored to you. he remembers small details, like a song you said you liked months ago or a piece of jewelry that matches your favorite outfit, and surprises you with them.

— he once gave you a scarf he’d chosen because it reminded him of your favorite color or the warmth of your laugh.

— sunday loves to take you to quiet, beautiful places—a secluded garden, a scenic overlook, or a tranquil café. these moments aren’t extravagant but feel intimate, allowing you to share time together away from the world.

— he plans these outings based on your mood, sensing when you need to recharge or celebrate something special.

— definitely the type to make you playlists, he expresses himself through music, crafting playlists that reflect his feelings for you. each song holds a memory or emotion he associates with your time together.

— when you’re apart, he sends you these playlists, saying, “this reminded me of you.”

— forehead kisses!!!! one of his signature gestures. sunday believes there’s something deeply personal and tender about a forehead kiss. it’s his way of grounding you, showing his affection without words.

— he often does this absentmindedly while walking past you or as you’re falling asleep beside him.

— celebrating milestones subtly instead of grand parties, sunday marks milestones with quiet dinners, heartfelt toasts, and small tokens to commemorate the occasion. he focuses on the meaning behind the moment rather than the spectacle.

— sunday loves sharing his favorite books, songs, or stories with you, not because he wants you to love them too but because they’re part of who he is. he’ll read passages aloud to you, his voice calm and soothing, and ask, “what do you think?”

— silent but loving gestures. (OUUU he always has a smile on his face whenever staring at your cute face) he’ll fix your scarf when it’s slipping or pull you closer when the wind picks up, all without saying a word. these actions speak volumes about his care and attentiveness.

— if you’re working late, he’ll leave a cup of tea and a snack by your side before retreating to give you space.

— when you’re upset, he doesn’t try to fix everything. instead, he holds you, his arms steady and warm, whispering soft reassurances like, “it’s okay, i’m here.”

— he lets you cry or vent as much as you need, never rushing you or downplaying your feelings.

— (symbolic) tokens!! sunday has a habit of giving you small items that carry meaning—like a pressed flower he picked during one of your walks or a smooth stone from a beach you visited together.

— these items become cherished keepsakes, reminding you of the memories you’ve shared.

— sunday is very affectionate, only to you though. his hugs are firm and grounding, as if he’s shielding you from the world while sharing his quiet strength. also likes tracing circles on your hand when you’re holding his or brushing a stray hair behind your ear.

— i forgot to mention but you're the ONLY person he'll let touch his wings other than his sister, to him his wings are very much apart of him and they are sensitive, so him letting you touch them says so much. (he likes the way your fingers trace the soft curve of each figure so yes, please continue)

— trust me when i say this but he makes you feel SEEN. he’ll surprise you by recounting things you’ve said long ago, proving how closely he listens. if you doubt yourself, sunday reminds you of your strengths in his understated way: “you’ve done it before. you’ll do it again.”

—

the crowd was suffocating, bodies pressing together as the cold air bit at your cheeks. you shivered, trying to navigate the bustling space without losing your balance. it was one of those winter nights where even the stars seemed to hide, and the faint warmth of streetlights offered little comfort against the chill.

without a word, sunday’s hand found yours, his grip firm but gentle. before you could ask what he was doing, he pulled you closer—so close that your shoulder brushed his side. his long coat shielded you partially from the wind, but it was the solid warmth of him that truly made the cold feel less cruel.

“stay close,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, just for you to hear. his free hand rested lightly against your back, guiding you as the two of you weaved through the crowd.

it wasn’t just practical; it was protective, almost instinctive. sunday’s tall frame blocked the harsh gusts of wind and the jostling strangers. every now and then, his golden eyes darted to you, checking to see if you were okay.

when you shivered again, he tugged you even closer, his hip brushing against yours as he adjusted his coat to drape over your shoulders. the faintest smile played at his lips. “better?”

you nodded, your cheeks warming despite the freezing temperature. “much better.”

he said nothing more, but the way he stayed so close, the way his hand never left yours, spoke volumes. in the chaos of the cold, crowded world, sunday made you feel like you were the only one who mattered.

—

sunday as your boyfriend loves spending quality time with you.

— spending quality time with sunday feels like an oasis of calm in a chaotic world.

— he doesn’t need to fill the silence with words to make you feel cherished. whether it’s lying side by side on the couch reading, or watching the night sky, he’s content just being near you. his company is enough to make you feel like time slows down, as if the world outside doesn’t matter.

— he enjoys low-key activities that allow you to connect in a way that feels effortless. maybe it’s cooking together, where he takes the lead but is always careful to make sure you’re involved in the process, whether it's chopping vegetables or stirring a sauce.

— shared hobbies!!!!!!! sunday is someone who loves learning about your interests, even if they’re completely different from his own. he sits with you as you sketch or watch your favorite movies, asking thoughtful questions and genuinely wanting to know what excites you about it. his curiosity about you makes even the simplest activities feel special.

— great at supporting you silently (if.. that makes sense), sometimes, quality time doesn’t require a lot of talking. sunday’s presence alone provides comfort. whether you’re working on a project or simply relaxing, he’s content being near you, offering a soft, reassuring smile when you look up. he’s always the first to notice if you're stressed, offering a hand to hold or a shoulder to lean on without making a fuss about it.

— loves doing the little things together as he takes joy in the mundane. running errands becomes an adventure when he’s by your side. stopping by a local café becomes a mini date, and even grocery shopping feels more like an intimate exchange. there’s a quiet magic in the way he makes ordinary moments feel like a treasure.

— you could literally be sitting in silence, reading a book while zoning out with sunday beside you. sunday? oh, he's just watching you aimlessly, eyes locked onto you HARD. he doesn't mind being in silence with you, just as long as you're around he'll be better than ever.

— whether it’s through shared silence or quiet conversation, sunday makes sure that every minute together feels treasured. he cherishes time spent with you because, for him, those moments are what truly matter.

—

you were curled up on the couch, lost in a book. the soft rustling of pages filled the quiet room, the only sound between you and sunday, who sat beside you with an unread book in his hands. but his focus wasn’t on the pages in front of him. no, his gaze was fixed on you.

he admired the way the light from the window caught in your hair, making it shine with a soft glow. the way your fingers turned each page with such care, as though the book was something sacred. every now and then, you would bite your lip in concentration, or softly hum a tune you barely noticed, and sunday found himself completely enchanted by these small, quiet moments.

his golden eyes softened as he watched you, his heart swelling with an affection that took him by surprise. there was something about the way you immersed yourself in the world of the book that made him feel both in awe and utterly in love.

you glanced up, catching him staring at you. “something on my face?” you asked, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

sunday blinked, the spell momentarily broken. his cheeks flushed, but his smile remained gentle and warm. “nothing,” he said, his voice soft. “just thinking how… beautiful you look, lost in your world.”

you tilted your head, amused by the sudden honesty in his words. “you’re staring at me like you’re watching something magical.”

he chuckled quietly, his gaze returning to you with a tenderness that spoke more than words ever could. “you are,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

the moment passed, but you couldn’t help but notice the way his hand, so subtly, found yours. it was his quiet way of showing that even in these small, peaceful moments, he was entirely devoted to you.

and in that moment, you realized that the most magical thing wasn’t the book, or the quiet room—it was the way sunday looked at you, as though you were everything he ever needed.

—

sunday as your boyfriend absolutely loves recieving and giving affection.

— sunday and his subtle affection... sigh.

— sunday loves affection, though he expresses it in the quietest of ways. he isn’t one for grand gestures, but his affection is felt in the small, tender moments he shares with you. here's how sunday enjoys giving and receiving affection:

— since sunday isn't so big on pda, gentle touches is the way to go!!! sunday's affection is often shown through touch, though he never forces it. when you’re close, his fingers might brush against yours, or he’ll softly press his palm to your back when you’re walking together. it’s subtle, but the warmth he offers in those touches is undeniable.

— can we appreciate the art of quiet presence?? the way he often shows his love by simply being there, his presence a steady comfort. when you’re upset or stressed, he won’t rush to fix things but will instead sit beside you, his body leaning just a little closer, as though the closeness itself is enough to soothe you (which, it is).

— sunday’s affection is often expressed through the little things. maybe it’s making you tea because he knows you’re tired, or handing you a blanket when he notices you shivering, all without a word. it’s never about what he does, but the thoughtfulness behind it.

— the way he listens. everybody LISTEN UP!! when you talk, sunday listens—not just to your words, but to the way you say them. he remembers the smallest details, and when he surprises you by bringing up something you mentioned months ago, you feel the love in his attentive listening.

— expressing through his eyes. sometimes, he doesn’t need to speak to show his affection. his golden eyes do the talking, always softening when he looks at you, filled with warmth and adoration. he’s not the type to openly gush about his feelings, but when he catches your eye, you can feel his love in that look.

— sunday finds affection in quiet moments. when you’re reading together, or when you’re simply sitting beside him, not needing to say anything, his hand might rest against your leg or his arm will casually brush yours. these moments of silence are when he feels the closest to you, when affection doesn’t need to be vocalized but is felt through proximity.

— while sunday is reserved about his own needs, he does enjoy receiving affection in ways that aren’t over the top. a kiss on his cheek, a warm hug when he least expects it—these things make his heart flutter. he might not ask for it, but he welcomes your attention with a smile that says everything.

— THIS MAN LOVESSSS ACTS OF SERVICE!!! one of his main ways of showing love.

— when sunday wants to show you he cares, he’ll do something for you before you even ask. whether it’s fixing something around the house or making sure you’re comfortable, his actions speak louder than words.

— you don't even gotta tell him twice to grab a cup of water he's up and running. you need help with your paperwork? who knew you had a flash in your home? need your hair done and touched up? suddenly he's a hairdresser with a certificate in hairdressing/salon.

—

you sat at the table, focused on a small project, when you felt a subtle presence beside you. sunday had quietly moved closer, and now his hand brushed against yours. it was barely noticeable at first, just a light touch as if to say, i’m here.

without thinking, your fingers shifted just enough to intertwine with his, a simple gesture that made your heart flutter. he didn’t say anything, but his thumb lightly traced the back of your hand, a slow, deliberate motion that spoke volumes.

when you looked up, his golden eyes were fixed on you, soft and attentive. there was a quiet affection in the way he held your hand, his fingers never tightening or pulling away. he wasn’t in a hurry. he just wanted to be close.

“you’re quiet today,” you murmured, a gentle smile forming on your lips as you looked into his eyes.

“i gues so,” sunday said softly, his gaze never leaving yours. he squeezed your hand just a little, letting the warmth of the touch speak for him.

it had always been this way—gentle and subtle. he didn’t need to fill the space with words; the way his thumb moved over your skin, the way his fingers lingered with such care, was all the affection you needed.

note: if you would like to be added to the honkai star rail taglist pls just ask me!! dont be shy

taglist 🏷️:  @tomansimp @one-offmind @miitchiji @dainsleif-when-playable @momoewn @stygianoir @irethepotato @v4an @imetsk @fiannee @sunnyf4lls @yuri-is-silly @khoiyyu @daydreaming-paradies if im missing anyone please tell me because i have an inkling feeling i missed a few..

liking + following + reblogs are very much appreciated!!

[javierpena-inatacvest]

A Little Longer

Summary: Frankie promises to give you what you ask for... but only if you can play by the rules of his game

Word Count: 2.4K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, established relationship)

Warnings: SMUT (18+), this is literally porn with no plot WHOOPS, cockwarming, unprotected p in v sex, creampie, oral (f receiving), cum eating, breeding kink (just really wanting to cum inside- no implications of wanting to get pregnant but use your imagination if you so choose because you know I will🙂 edging, overstimulation (if u squint), praise kink, size kink, feral Frankie, but also sweet soft baby boy Frankie 😭🥺

A/N: Ovulation demons are at it again!!! 🤠 Idk what to tell y'all, this came to me (quite literally whoops) and I couldn't rest until my thots were written down! I know Joel won the voting poll for this one, but honestly it just screams Frankie 😩 Everyone clap for Madeline as she writes something that isn't an explicit pregnancy breeding kink!!!!

Frankie was never the type of guy to spend his Sundays glued to the TV, watching whatever NFL game was on just for the sake of staying up to date on the sports world.

So when you found him in the living room, lounged and sprawled out across your couch with football on in the background, you were sure that now was just as good of a time as any to suggest you spend the rest of your lazy afternoon in a much more enjoyable way for the both of you.

"How much longer until the game is done?" You cooed, crawling into Frankie's lap, straddling your legs across his hips and tracing your fingers up and down the worn cotton of his t-shirt.

"'Bout halfway. Why?" Frankie smirked, the half hard bulge growing in his sweatpants revealing he knew damn well why you had asked.

"Because, I have a game I'd rather play that's much better than football." You teased, leaning down to trail soft kisses along his neck and jaw, subtly grinding your hips down into his.

"Yeah? and what game would that be, quierda?" Frankie's smirk only grew wider, lust pooling in the warmth of his brown eyes as his hands roamed to grope your ass, kneading the plump flesh in his grasp.

"My favorite game. The game where you put your dick inside me."

The two of you couldn't help but giggle despite the palpable tension brewing between you, a desperate and hungry need filling the air as Frankie's grip tightened, feeling you sink your weight over the full blown erection tenting his pants.

"That is a good game," Frankie chuckled, looking up at you with a concentrated furrow in his brow, seeing the gears turn in his mind as his eyes locked with yours. "I'll play. But-"

"But what, Frankie?" You asked, titling your head in confusion at his pause.

"But... We get to play by my rules."

At this point, Frankie's subtle smirk had shifted to a full blown devilish grin, leaving you wondering what kind of ideas he had managed to concoct in regards to your proposal.

"And what rules would those be, Franke?" You mewled, playing along as you traced your fingers along the edge of his waistband, tugging it down just enough to expose the happy trail running down the lower half of his stomach.

"I'll put my dick in you... But I'm not fucking you until the game is done."

You froze in your tracks, the unsure scrunch of your face acting as a silent ask to figure out if Frankie was being serious or not. The sudden shift in the tone of his voice now humming deep in his chest with a hungry desire, made it very clear that his suggestion was more than sure.

"If you want me to fuck you, rules are that you keep me inside you until the game is finished. But you can't move, can't touch yourself, and can't cum 'till I say."

You could already feel the slick starting to pool in the cotton of your underwear from anticipation and excitement, heart pulsing in your chest and cunt at the prospects of Frankie's idea. Because if there was one think Frankie knew about you, it was that you'd never turn down a challenge. And more importantly, you hated losing. So who would you be to deny him a chance to challenge him at his own game?

"You're on, Morales."

It had started off easy- sweet, even- Frankie spooning behind you, gently sliding his cock into your pussy, ass resting against his hips as your bodies melded together, snuggling on the couch.

He had even eased you into it, taking the first part of the 3rd quarter after half time had finished to stretch you out slowly, starting with just the tip notching between your folds and into your heat, sinking himself deeper inside you every few minutes to let you adjust to his size.

Even with how worked up you were, with half of Frankie's length now resting inside you, your confidence in making it another quarter and a half still abiding by Frankie's rules didn't seem too far out of reach.

But then again, you weren't expecting Frankie to play dirty, either.

Suddenly, Frankie was foregoing his subtle pace, trailing hot, wet kisses along your neck as he pushed himself fully inside you, filling you to the brim as his tip nestled against your cervix. A pathetic whimper escaped from your parted lips, catching your breath while your pussy pulsed around his length, feeling Frankie's smug grin pressed against your shoulder between his kisses.

"Oh f-fuck, Frankie!" You moaned, the sweet sting of his stretch already making your eyes roll to the back of your head, trying with everything in you to keep yourself composed.

"There ya go, princesa. Tight little pussy always takes me so well, doesn't she?" Frankie cooed almost mockingly, the hot breath of his words dancing against your skin between sucking at your pulse point. "Gotta relax, baby girl. Still have a ways to go before the game's over."

You took a long inhale in, glancing at the game clock in the bottom corner of the TV frame, finding the small box that read "3rd Quarter- 6:37" and doing some quick calculations in your head.

6 minutes left of this quarter and 15 minutes in the next. Plus game breaks and commercials? You could pull yourself together enough to make it through that without falling apart? Can't be that much longer, right?

For the average person watching football, you were right.

But to you, with Frankie's cock buried in your pussy, painstakingly teasing you to the point of near tears, you were convinced that you were watching the longest football game ever played in the history of mankind.

After sinking his full length to your hilt, Frankie had become relentless. It started off just like he had before, the intensity of his teasing amping up little by little with each minute that passed.

It began with the kisses on your neck, slowing trailing up and down your warm skin, whispering sweet praises into your ear. The tickle of the scratchy hairs from his beard making you shiver in delight, wishing it was buried between your legs, scratching the inside of your thighs as he ate you out instead of your neck.

Next, came his hands, palms that were once innocently splayed across your stomach now reaching under your shirt to palm at your breasts, kneading the soft flesh in his grasp, fingertips gently rolling your pebbled nipples, tweaking the hard buds with just enough pressure that his other hand was holding your hips firmly in place to keep you from grinding against him and taking any more than he gave you.

If both of those weren't enough, the final straw was when the hand lazily groping at your breasts snaked down your front, finding its way to your clit, puffy and aching from its time spent untouched while Frankie's cock lay stiff and full inside you.

At this point, you were absolutely soaked, every inch of your bottom half drenched in your arousal as you leaked around Frankie's length, the pads of his fingers sliding over your sensitive and slippery bundle of nerves with unspeakable ease. Even though he had barley but any pressure over your clit, just the ghosting of his fingertips was enough to make you sob, desperate to chase your high after what felt like hours of Frankie teasing you with his cock.

"Oh my god, F-frankie, fuck- please, baby. P-please touch me." You begged, pathetically whimpering as his fingers traced through your drenched folds, his strong grip holding your hips in place to keep you from pushing your ass deeper into his hips for some sort of relief.

"Shhhhhh, I know, baby. But you can't cum yet, remember? If I touch you, you gotta be a good girl and follow the rules of the game." Frankie smirked, teasing you as his fingers lazily collected your slick, purposefully circling them everywhere but your clit.

"I won't, I promise, p-please, Frankie. P-please."

Giving into your plea, Frankie dragged his fingers up your cunt, making you cry out as he finally began to rub slow circles against your throbbing bundle of nerves, the mix of temporary relief and painful ache to cum making you clamp down around Frankie's cock, wetness gushing from your core.

It was taking everything in you to fight the urge to collapse, biting down so hard on your lip you were convinced it might bleed as you felt the pleasure begin to build in you. Unfortunately for you, Frankie had spent enough time memorizing every twitch and tug of your body beneath his that he knew your tell tale signs, pulling his fingers away to the sounds of your ragged moans.

"Frankie, n-no, fuck- please, baby. I need more, pleasepleaseplease."

"Fuck, you're so pretty when you beg. I know, quierda, but not yet. There's still 4 minutes left in the game. 4 minutes left and then I'll fuck you. Fuck you with my tounge, my cock, I'll make you cum so many times you won't be able to walk straight. But not until this tight little pussy is so wet and ready for me that she can take everything I have to give."

With the way Frankie's filthy mouth was spewing, he might as well be fucking into you at full force, his words shooting straight to your core, fingers digging into your couch cushions for any sort of relief you could get.

"F-Frankieeeee-" His name was the only thing your mind could comprehend enough to get out, practically panting as the sheen of sweat began to dampen your forehead.

"You're doing so good for me, baby girl. I know you can take it." Frankie praised, scooping his hand under your jaw to turn your face towards him, cradling your cheeks in his grasp to force your lips to his, colliding mouths muffling the moans escaping from you.

You were practically drunk off pleasure at this point, trying your best to fight off a dizzying high as you watched the clock wind down at a painstaking pace, your heart skipping a beat as you saw the clock shift to count down from only one minute left.

"Less than a minute left, Hermosa. Think you can make it?" Frankie cooed, his fingers creeping back down to circle your clit, sending a jolt through your body as he rubbed at the slippery and soaked bundle of nerves.

The best you could do was nod your head, too far gone for any words as your cunt clamped tighter and tighter around him, so wet that you were more than positive you'd be cleaning stains of your puddles of slick out of your couch tomorrow.

Looking back at the TV, you were down to 12 seconds left, the winning team already celebrating their inevitable victory, hoping that it would be enough for Frankie to give in and finally fuck you.

"F-fuck me, Fransisco, please. Please, baby, wanna cum around your cock so bad." You whined at a pathetic pitch, pleading with Frankie to give you what you had been so desperate for.

You could hear the sigh of relief as the game clock finally wound down to :00, sensing an immediate shift in Frankie's demeanor as the game came to a close.

"Oh thank fuck this game is done." Frankie groaned, flipping you over onto your back and caging his body over yours, colliding your mouths in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

While he may not have said it, Frankie was just as wound up as you, the warm and wet walls of your cunt soaking him for the better part of an hour driving him absolutely feral, using every ounce of self-restraint to keep from accepting defeat at his own game.

"Wanted to fuck you so bad, quierda. Do you know how hard it was not to give into you, baby? Not to hear those pretty moans and not fuck this perfect pussy. You did so good for me, so good that I'm gonna fuck you until you're begging me to stop. Gonna fill you up so full of me, I'll be dripping out of you for days."

Frankie sat back, throwing your legs over the width of his broad shoulders, leaning into you so that your thighs pressed against your stomach, stretching you open even further than you thought you could as he began to punch into you at a punishing pace.

His cock rammed against your g-spot, the sounds wet squelching from his length dragging in and out of your soaking heat, balls slapping against your ass and lewd moans had your living room sounding like it was straight out of a porn scene

"Fuckfuckfuck- Frankie- don't stop, baby. Don't stop." You sobbed, Frankie barley 10 strokes in before you could feel the coil in your belly beginning to tighten, so worked up from waiting for this moment that you were about to cum embarrassingly fast.

"Not gonna stop, hermosa. Lemme feel it, baby. Did so good for me. Cum all over my cock. Wanna feel you soak me. Wanna feel you before I fuck myself so deep inside of you."

“Ohmygod- oh Frankie, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!”

It only took a few more strokes and the curly hairs at the base of his shaft rubbing against your clit to send you over the edge, your pent up orgasm crashing through you so hard, you were conviced that you were levitating in pure ecstasy. Every inch of your body was trembling with pleasure, gushing around Frankie’s cock as you came, your velvety walls choking his length as he relentlessly continued to fuck into you, ready to chase his own high.

“That’s my good girl. Let go, baby. Cum all over me. Fuck, your pussy feels so fucking good.” Frankie groaned, admiring you as you rode out your orgasm, jaw slack and mouth hanging open in a perfect “O”, your glossed over eyes and blissed out expression finding a way to drive him even more wild.

Reaching between your legs, Frankie’s fingers found your clit, making you cry out from how sensitive you still were, barely finished cumming before he was already on his way to doing it again.

“Frankie, it’s too- fuck- too much. Oh my god, shit-“ you sobbed, wrapping your fingers around his biceps, his muscles flexing in your grasp as you tried to brace yourself.

“I know you can take it, Hermosa. Need to give you one more. Please, let me give you one more.”

“I- fuck- I c-can’t.” But despite your half hearted protest, you and Frankie both knew that you were already half way to reaching your high again, coil in your stomach tightening with each punch against your g-spot and rub of his fingers on your throbbing bundle of nerves.

"You can, baby girl, I know you can. Can feel how close you are again- so fucking wet and tight, fuck- Give me one more and I'm gonna fill you so fucking full of me- watch my cum leak out of your tight little pussy 'till I can fuck it back into you again, keep you inside me for days." Frankie moaned, his pace now becoming more frantic and sloppy with each thrust, fighting with everything in him to keep from finishing before you did once more.

The combination of the feral thoughts that Frankie found himself spewing, along with the overwhelming and all consuming pleasure was all you needed to tip you over the edge again, this orgasm even more intense than the last. Your eyes were rolling to the back of your head, sobbing and crying out Frankie's name like a broken prayer, body practically going limp as pure bliss overtook you.

"Oh shit- Fuck, you're so good to me, quierda. Feels so fucking good. Fuck, I'm gonna cum too- mierda- give you everything I have, gonna-ahhhhh! Fuck!"

Just like that, Frankie was spilling inside you, hips stuttering with one final thrust as he painted your walls with hot, thick ropes of his spend, balls drawing up into his stomach while he milked himself of every last drop he had to give.

Through heavy breaths and gritted teeth, Frankie carefully pulled out his softening cock, sitting back on his heels to watch the mix of your spend begin to drip out of your hole, awestruck but the wet and shiny mess between your thighs, pussy puffy, swollen and leaking with him.

But for just as animalistic as it made Frankie to watch his cum seep out of your spent cunt, there was an even more primitive part of him that need to make sure that you stayed full of him, to mark his territory inside of you.

Shifting to lay on his stomach, Frankie kept your legs slung over his shoulders, pushing your thighs to your chest to spread you open, watching more of his seed dribble out of your pussy. With a satisfied groan rumbling deep in his chest, Frankie stuck out his tongue, swiping it up to collect the warm mixture of your arousal before pushing it back into your heat, gently fucking you with his mouth as you whined and writhed beneath him.

Once he was satisfied with his cum stuffed back inside you, Frankie couldn't help but look up at you with the most satisfied smirk spread across his face, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand before crawling up to trap your body beneath his, resting his weight on top of you with his head nestled between your breasts, big brown puppy dog eyes staring up at you.

"Are you okay, baby?" He cooed, reaching up to gently stroke your cheek, thumb rubbing soft circles into your skin. "It wasn't too much, was it?"

"No, it was amazing, Frankie." You smiled, reaching down to run your fingers through the messy curls of his sweat-ridden hair, heart swelling with how quickly Frankie had flipped the switch from assertive to soft and sweet. "We should watch football like that more often."

"Baby, if this is how you wanna watch football, I won't let us miss another fucking game the rest of this season."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

[elleluvsjurin]

but outta respect, im keeping her nameless

requested

synopsis: you and minjeong’s casual sexcapades

pairings: Kim minjeong x fem!reader

cw: smut, cheating, rich housewife!reader, milf reader, minjeong is a lover girl

MEN DO NOT INTERACT

it’s a Friday night, your husband is gone for a business trip and won’t be back until Sunday. Your daughter is curled up in bed and you’re sitting on your couch until you hear three loud knocks at your door. you open it to see that it’s in minjeong and you internally scream.

“minjeong…what the fuck are you doing at my house? my child is here. ” you say

“i wanted to see you. is that an issue?” you eye her up and down before eventually letting her in. her hair is cut into a wolf cut, layered type of bob. she has on a white shirt and black jeans and a black jacket to top it. she slowly looks you up and down as you’re wearing a white see-through nightie with nothing underneath it, obviously not expecting someone to show up at your home.

“and you look so good right now.” she says, casually

“you can’t keep showing up here uninvited, you’re lucky that my husband isn’t here.” you mumble

“i know and im sorry, ok? i just missed you lots. i can make it up to you.” she mentions innocently though you can decipher between the facade that she’s carrying.

“not right now, my daughter is asleep.” she smiles and you look at her, confused.

“let me take your husband’s place.” she says bluntly

“no.” you reply

“he doesn’t even fuck you good. if he did, we wouldn’t be in this position.” she challenges you to see if you’re going to crack, which you do. in every situation she’s always 4 steps ahead of you and it pisses you off because she’s right every time.

she takes her jacket off, tossing it onto your couch so she can take a seat and make herself comfortable.

“I don’t mind you staying but please stay quiet, I don’t want my child waking up and hearing us.” you mention

“ok then.” she mumbles, smirking at you as you stand there.

“what?” you ask

“are you going to take me up to that lavish bedroom of yours or are we gonna do it in the open right here?” she questions

“let’s go upstairs.” you head upstairs, purposely swaying your ass from side to side as Minjeong follows you. she looks down, instantly looking back up so she won’t be distracted.

“love this cute little room, could be ours..” she trailed off as you opened the door for her.

“watch it.” you mumble as she pushes you onto the bed. she gets on top of you and instantly kisses your lips

“so fucking sexy.” she says in between kisses. you grab on her boobs through her shirt before you two pull away, breathing heavily. you both sit up with her being in your lap.

“take this shit off.” you pull on her shirt and she pulls it over her head.

you unclip her bra, throwing it to the ground and you take one of her nipples into your mouth

“what the- fuck..” she silently whimpers and you continue sucking on her nipples before she pulls away.

“y/n i want to eat you out, instead.” you release your mouth from her nipple and you agree to what she says.

“spread those legs for me.” she murmured softly

“o-ok.” you mumble quietly. you slowly pull down your gown and she watches you. you start from your shoulder, to your collarbone, down your stomach, and eventually, down your legs. discarding the sheer clothing item to a section of the room. you lie down with your back pressed up against the headboard.

“fuck that’s perfect.” she whispers as she lowers herself down to your heat, minjeong blows on your clit and you shudder from the feeling.

“m-minjeong-” “wait your turn.” she says, sternly

after what felt like forever, she finally latched her mouth onto your clit and started sucking the life out of you.

“a-ah fuck.” you mumble silently, keeping in mind that you two aren’t home alone. minjeong continues sucking on your clit as she slowly enters two fingers into your needy cunt, thrusting them in and out at a slow pace as she eats you out. you throw your head back, watching the scene of winter eating you out..it’s engraved into your head.

“yes yes…please minjeong.” you moan out and she chuckles, the vibration of her chuckle leaving an affect on your clit.

“fuuuck.” you moan as you throw your head back up against the headboard. your loud pussy squelches as she thrusts her fingers in and out of you.

“damn babe.” she mutters as your juices leak down her hand, encouraging her to speed up.

“oh my goodness..” you whimper aloud. minjeong eats your pussy as if it’s her last meal. your legs shake and convulses as she eats you out. your whole body trembles as you cum all over her pretty face.

“f-fuck.” you breathed out and she pulls away, getting up to kiss your lips.

“God I love you.” minjeong mumbles in between kisses, you wrap your hands around her neck as you make out with her.

“mmh i love you too.” you mutter and you eventually pull away from her lips.

“y/n, let me marry you.” she says

“minjeong..I can’t.” you reply

“I’ll wait…for however long it takes.” she says

minjeong sucks on your perky nipple as she looks at you with pleading eyes, almost begging for you.

“minjeong..I’ll see, ok?” you respond and she smiles, her cheeks flushed with a pink hue before she kisses your hand

“thank you.” she mutters

“but you gotta go..like now. we can chat about this later.” you say sternly

“fine.” she puts her shirt back on, fixing up her disheveled hair. you put your nightie back on and you walk her out.

“I’ll miss you.” she says as she’s standing in the doorway. you rub her hand and you kiss her lips passionately, letting her know that you mean business.

“i know and I’ll miss you too but next time you can’t show up like this, do you understand me Minjeong?” she nods her head, understanding you crystal clear

“now go, don’t worry about me, i will be fine. worry about yourself for these next few days and i will message you, ok.” you hand her the jacket that she left on your couch.

“thank you.” she mumbles and she kisses your lips one last time before you two part ways.

you close the door, not realizing that your daughter was behind you the entire time.

[pearlymel]

Crush !

⋆⑅˚₊ Summery: telling them you have a crush on them despite being in a relationship together.

Includes: Aventurine, Veritas Ratio, Sunday, Blade, Boothill.

Warnings: gn! reader, sfw, suggestiveness, tiny bit of angst, mentions of being really injured in blade's, reader is drunk in Boothill's, sunday is a bit sick in his part, and veritas comforts reader.

↳ Aventurine.

Aventurine plops down on the couch beside you, and casually grabs a box from his pocket with a hum, he takes a necklace out of the box, running his fingers along the chain. “Let’s see how it looks on you.” he then leaned closer behind you to help you put the necklace on, his touch gentle on your skin as he clasps the necklace together, his hand grazes the nape of your neck.

You grin at him, "my love, the ultimate spoiler.”

Aventurine smirks back, wrapping his arms around your torso and pulling you into his lap. He rests his chin on your shoulder, giving you a playful grin. “And you love every minute of it,” he teases, tracing a finger along the necklace. “Look at you, all this gold hanging around your pretty little neck.”

You feel hot from his words, as in your skin is burning, but you are hot otherwise.

You reach up to trace the jewelry adorning your neck, "this is why i have a crush on you," you say sarcastically. “How do you know it’s not my charming personality?” he quips, pressing a kiss along the curve of your neck. He lifts a hand to gently brush your hair away, his lips slowly traveling towards your jaw. “Maybe you can’t resist how good I look when I win big…” he mumbles, placing another kiss on your skin.

You turn to face him, now sitting on his lap with your body sideways, your legs dangling off from the side of his thigh, and your arms around his neck, "Jokes aside," you whisper, "i do still have a fat crush on you despite us being together.”

He moves his lips near your ear, his voice lowering to a whisper. “And what exactly do you adore me for, hm?”

“You're charming..”

“That’s one,” he grins, tilting his head. He pulls you in even closer, “keep going,” he murmurs, lips just brushing against your ear.

What a tease.

“and pretty.”

“That’s two,” he muses, “Now, what more?”

You swallow thickly, “U-uh, and you're a gentleman with me.”

Aventurine chuckles at that. He lifts a hand up to your chin, tilting your head back so he can look at you. He lets his gaze wander over your face before meeting your eyes, “I can be gentlemanly,” he says, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “But the real question is… Do you want me to be?”

You lightly smack at his shoulder, "Hell yeah you better stay that way.” he laughs, “Or what?” he challenges. “You’ll kick my ass?”

“nope, I will kick you right on the balls.”

Aventurine cringes at that comment, “now that’s an effective threat,” he mutters, his hand instinctively moving to protect his crotch. He gives you a small pout. “I’ll be a good boy, I promise.”

And he earns a kiss on his cheek, “my sweet good boy.”

He rolls his eyes, feigning annoyance. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger,” he sighs. “Completely helpless against you.”

↳ Blade.

Blood isn't a sight Blade wasn't used to seeing, it doesn't faze him one bit when he sees the sight of it.

But what he isn't used seeing, is that same familiar crimson thick liquid dripping from you. And his head is a mess, hands searching frantically for the first aid kit before he's grabbing bandages to wrap them around your abdomen with quick precision, to the point he wasn't careful with how well you were handling it, he just wanted the blood to stop.

So reckless, he repeated in his mind, so fragile, i should've been there, i would've killed them all—

Your whimpers is what makes him freeze, your lose shaky hand around his wrist to stop him from tightening the bandage any further.

That's right, you feel pain.

His touch is immediately gentle, like he was knocked back into his senses as he silently gestures you to lean back so he could resume his work. Hands ever so delicate now, making sure to watch the way you breath, and glancing at your face to check if you were wincing in pain or not.

Thankfully, you're more relaxed now. You look down to catch a glimpse of him staring, and he looks away too fast.

The air is too silent, not that you mind, but you could lighten it up a bit.

“That hurted you know,” you mumble, raising an eyebrow when he stays silent, “do you even still love me?”

He lets out a sigh, there you go again.

“don't ask such questions,” he mutters, “you know the answer.”

You shrug, “yeah, but i want to hear it. It'll make me feel better, promise.” you try persuading him, even though you know you won't be able to make him say it. He'd rather just say it whenever it felt right, whenever you both were relaxing or cuddling together.

His fingers brush over the cloth around your abdomen, “i do.” He simply replies, and it's enough for you, for now.

“you're lucky I'm still at that crush stage,” you smile to yourself, leaning back while grabbing a cushion to hide your smile, “i still feel like i have a crush on you whenever i see you..” you mumble against the cottoned cushion.

Since you couldn't see his face from covering your face with the cushion; in your head, you think he's probably amused.

But in his head, he's literally confused, like there is dusty cogwheels in his head waiting for them to work.

Crush? Was that… a new word he doesn't know about?

Are you about to crush him? Or is he about to crush you?

No, he would never. And you would laugh at him if he asked you what the word even meant.

… he'll have to ask silver wolf or firefly about it later, hoping the girls wouldn't tease him too much about it.

For now, he rolls your shirt back down while caressing your body so carefully, silently grateful that you're still here with him.

↳ Boothill.

"Whoa, easy there, sunshine," Boothill steadied you, tightening his grip to keep you steady as you wobbled.

You were totally out of it.

“where we going?” You try to speak, leaning your body onto his side, "we're headin' back to the hotel, 'course. But you're not doin' a particularly great job at walkin', darlin'." He took a step forward, practically half supporting, half pulling you along.

“i hate walking.” You voice out your concerns while groaning in exhaustion. Boothill couldn't help but let out a snort, "well, unfortunately, gettin' to the hotel requires a bit of that," he responded coolly. "And I'd much rather you not end up flat on your face on the sidewalk," he added, his tone a scolding as he spares you a glance.

He was silently glad that the streets were mostly deserted at this time of night.

“i wanna piggyback, carry me please.”

"Are you even capable of climbin’ onto my back in your current state?”

"Get down," you demand, but also while giggling in the process.

He chuckled, finding your drunken antics both irritating and endearing before he lowered himself slowly to one knee. "Get on my back. But I swear, if you fall and take me down with you, I'm never givin' you another piggyback again.”

With some effort and a bit of wobbling, you manage to get yourself situated on his back. He braces his hands firmly under your knees, securing you in place.

"Comfortable?" he asks, as he stands up, "my lovely cowboy." You nuzzle onto his hair, you arms firm around his shoulders.

“my lovely and very drunk darlin’.” he teased, unable to resist a bit of gentle mockery. "I so have a crush on ya." You whisper while nuzzling your cheek on his shoulder, "is that so? You have a crush on me, huh? He responded, playing along with your obliviousness.

"Well, I hate to break it to you, darlin’, but you don’t need to have a crush on me… We’re already partners." He spoke tenderly as he continued to make his way toward the hotel.

"Can't i still crush on my partner?”

"Of course you can, sweet thing," he reassured you. "You can crush on me as much as you like." He paused for a moment before adding, "Just don’t be doin’ any crushin’ on no other cowboys while you're at it.”

You shake your head, a pout forming on your lips, “never.”

He smiled, feeling a sense of contentment as you clung to him so endearingly. "Good, cause I don't share, you hear? You're all mine.”

↳ Sunday.

“i told you to bring an umbrella.” You state in worry, lips pressed into a thin line when you helped him out of his soaked clothes while patting him dry.

Sunday watched with no small amount of amusement as his wings started to flutter involuntarily, doing their best to shake off the droplets of rain from them.

he tried reassuring you that he was okay despite you worrying, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips when you started daubing his face and wings with the towel, "such an attentive spouse i have." He observed you, the tone of his voice lighthearted.

“you're going to get sick.”

Sunday's amile slowly faded as you brought your hand up to his forehead, his eyes watching as you checked for signs of fever. He had no intentions of making you worry, so he reached up to put a hand over yours, gently pulling your hand away from his forehead.

"ah, it's just a bit warm." he tried to reassure you for the nth time. "i'm quite certain i'm not falling ill.”

And how he wishes his words were true. He stirred gently when he felt a damp cold towel caressing his forehead and neck, his eyes slowly opening in response to your touch as he tried to sit up.

“you're burning, it's okay. Go back to sleep.” You whisper, not stopping one bit from removing the towel, dumping it in cold water then squeezing it to continue your ministrations.

He was a light sleeper, so it didn't take much to wake him up. he grumbled incoherently, feeling his head ache dully. "i am?" he questioned. he didn't feel particularly hot, but then again, he wasn't sure he could trust his own judgment, considering that he was slightly drowsy.

Sunday's eyes followed you as you continued to wipe his body, feeling you press the cool towel into his skin. his expression turned guilty. "i assure you i'm fine, love," he tried to reassure you once again, but even he sounded unconvinced by his own words.

“come here.” He pulled you closer to him, to lean his forehead on your shoulder as you wiped the back of his neck, making him shudder.

"Remember when we were still in the early stages of our relationship? I used to wonder what your wings felt like.” you whisper to him, to try and make him feel at ease at least.

sunday chuckled softly as you spoke, his eyes opening slightly to look at you. he remembered your curiosity quite well. you had always been fascinated by them, and you'd ask him lots of questions and run your hands over them to get a feel of the texture.

"yes, i remember." he replied, his voice still a bit weaker than usual from the illness. "you'd always ask to touch them. it was quite endearing, actually.”

“i used to have the biggest crush on you,” you smile to yourself, “and i still do get that tingly feeling whenever i see you.”

He lifted his face up to meet your gaze, and you lean closer to press a kiss on his cheek, “and i still have eyes only for you, my love.”

You gently urge him to lay back down, so you could continue taking care of him.

“Get some rest, honey.” You say quietly, pressing another kiss to his forehead.

“will you stay here with me?”

“until you get better.”

Sunday let out a small hum of approval in response, the simple reassurance you gave him enough to ease his concerns, "thank you.”

↳ Veritas Ratio.

Ratio returned from his daily obligations, a stack of books and papers in one hand, his glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He entered the bedroom and caught sight of you, still laid out on the bed.

He smiled to himself before he set his pile of work down on the nearby desk. He walked over to the bed and perched himself on the edge. "What’s this? Still moping in bed?" he asked, his tone gently teasing.

"No.." you shake your head, sitting up on the bed to quickly wipe your face, although you knew there was still redness to your eyes. "Was just being stupid.”

He took in the sight of your slightly puffy eyes. He could tell there was something more to your mood than simple boredom.

"You don’t look like you’ve been just being ‘stupid’," he observed, his tone softening. "Is there something else bothering you?”

"I don't know, just feels like everyone hates me." You mumble, lowering your head and sighing tiredly while pinching your nose to prevent the emotions to stir again. Ratio hated seeing you in so much pain, so much self-doubt.

"You know that’s not true," he said, his voice a bit firmer now. "Why would you think everyone hates you?”

“don't know. Who even genuinely likes me?”

He let out a frustrated sigh and wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. "I like you," he stated firmly, "I love you. And I’m sure there are other people in your life who do as well.”

He then cupped your face in his hands and tilted your head up to look at him, his eyes searching yours intently. "Listen to me," he started, "You’re a wonderful person, and you deserve happiness and love just like anyone else. I know it’s hard to believe when you’re feeling low, but trust me when I say that I do love you.”

You try to laugh, “thank you.”

"You don’t have to thank me. I’m just doing what any decent partner would do.”

Your smile widens, your hands squeezing his sides, “thank you for loving my stupid self.”

He sighed, "first of all, you’re not stupid," he stared at you intently, making sure you got the message, "And second, it’s not a chore or a burden to love you. It’s one of the most effortless things I’ve ever done in my life.”

"Ugh, stop." You huff out, now sinking your face into his chest while trying not to laugh too much, "this is why i still crush on you so much.”

Ratio raised an eyebrow, pretending to be cool about it when he's probably panicking inside, “oh, do you now?” he would then rest his chin on top of your head, relieved that you were feeling much better. "You should know how much I care about you, how much I love you. How difficult it is to keep my hands off of you sometimes."

[doumadono]

For sinful sunday (I literally pray so my prompt gets some votes lol) - how about showering with Touya/Dabi???

Warnings: smut w/o plot, shower smut, rough smut, pussy fingering, oral (m receiving), fem villain!reader, established relationship, some spanking, quirk usage

A/N: this request got the third highest number of votes during the second Sinful Sunday poll I held. Thank you to everyone who voted!

SINFUL SUNDAY MY HERO ACADEMIA

It was hard to be a villain. 

The life you had chosen was not for the faint-hearted, and it had taken everything from you, leaving only a raw, jagged determination to fight back. 

Giran had seen that spark in you, the way your eyes had blazed with untamed fury when you crossed paths in a seedy alley one rainy night. 

You had been on the run, a fugitive without a cause, and he had offered you an opportunity — a chance to join the League of Villains. It hadn't taken much convincing. After all, you had nothing left to lose.

Joining the League wasn't easy. You had to prove your worth through countless trials, showing that you could stand your ground amidst the chaos. 

The League was a motley crew of outcasts and renegades, each with their own dark pasts and twisted motives. 

The first time you met Dabi, he barely acknowledged your presence, dismissing you as just another unnecessary mouth to feed. But your persistence, unwavering determination, exceptional combat skills and quick thinking caught his attention.

Beneath the animosity, there was an undeniable attraction, a pull that neither of you could resist.

He was tough, abrasive, and often cruel, but there was something in his eyes when he looked at you — a flicker of comprehension, a hint of appreciation.

You were both broken, scarred by the world, and your shared pain forged a bond that transcended words. 

Your relationship with Dabi had started with friction, but over time, the rough edges had smoothed, revealing a raw and intense connection. You found solace in each other's darkness. 

The hideout was silent, save for the creaking pipes and the distant hum of city life. 

You and Dabi returned after a particularly grueling mission. The adrenaline still coursed through your veins, leaving you restless and on edge. 

The mission had been challenging, pushing both of you to your limits. Your muscles ached, and the grime and sweat clung to your skin, making you long for the solace of a shower, to feel clean again. 

Unfortunately, the building's hot water supply had failed. Again. 

Frustration welled up inside you, but the need to feel clean overrode your reluctance.

Stripping off your dirty clothes, you stepped into the cramped bathroom and unscrewed the tap in a shower stall. A shiver ran through you as the icy water hit your skin, drawing a whine from your lips. "Dammit," you muttered, hugging yourself for warmth, already shivering all over the body from the overwhelming cold. The icy water was unbearable, but you forced yourself to endure it, trying to wash away the remnants of the day.

The bathroom door creaked open, and you turned to see Dabi leaning casually against the frame, a smirk playing on his lips. "Cold, huh?" he said, his voice a low rumble.

"Yeah, no thanks to this shitty plumbing," you replied, teeth chattering.

He smirked, the corner of his mouth curling up in that infuriatingly attractive way. He pushed off the doorframe and sauntered towards you. "Let me fix that for you."

You watched, captivated, as he undressed tantalizingly slowly. His white t-shirt came off first, revealing the patchwork of scars that adorned his torso, each one a testament to his brutal past. Next came his dark pants, sliding down his long legs with deliberate seduction. Finally, he stepped out of his boxers, leaving him gloriously bare, his cock you loved so much resting snuggly against his upper thighs.

Dabi stepped into the shower behind you. The cold water didn't seem to bother him; his quirk made him immune to such discomforts. He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you against his chest. His lips brushed your ear as he whispered, "Can't let you freeze to death, can I?"

His quirk activated, his body heating instantly, and the water transformed from icy to blissfully warm. Steam rose around you, enveloping you in a sultry haze. The shower and bathroom felt like a sauna, the air thick with dampness.

You turned in his arms, pressing your body against his, squeezing your breasts against his chest. The heat from his quirk seeped into your skin, and you moaned softly at the delicious warmth. You sighed in relief, closing your eyes as the hot water soothed your aching muscles. But then, you felt his rough hands on your hips, pulling you closer. Your eyes snapped open to find him staring down at you, his gaze intense and filled with hunger.

Dabi's hands roamed over your back, trailing fire in their wake.

"Thanks, I needed that," you breathed, tilting your head up to capture his lips in a searing kiss.

His response was immediate and hungry, his mouth devouring yours with a fervor that left you dizzy. His tongue teased yours, a dance of dominance and submission. 

You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as the kiss deepened.

As you two kissed, your hand drifted downward, brushing against the length of his cock. 

His breath hitched slightly, a low growl rumbling from his chest as you grasped his cock, stroking him slowly. 

The feel of him, firm and hot, growing hard and throbbing in your hand, sent a jolt of desire through your body, making your pussy wet. You couldn’t stop thinking about having this dick buried in your tight cunt, stretching your velvety walls to their limits.

The desire was so violent it seemed devouring your entire being.

His eyes darkened with lust, and he bucked slightly into your hand, the rhythm of your movements drawing a ragged moan from him. He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his gaze filled with an intense, burning need even though his damp bangs fell directly into his eyes. "You’re playing with fire," he growled, his voice thick with lust.

"Maybe I like getting burned," you whispered back, your voice a sultry whisper.

You kept on stroking his cock, occasionally brushing its mushroom head with your thumb as the two of you kept on kissing. Your other hand moved to his ball sack, where you gently massaged him, eliciting a deep, throaty groan from Dabi’s lips.

You moaned as his needy hand slipped between your thighs, rubbing your clit with a fierce intensity. Dabi was impatient, and you could feel it in every urgent stroke. Soon, his long, middle finger slipped into your slick entrance, gently brushing your inner walls as he finger fucked you.

His lips left yours, trailing down your neck, leaving a path of scorching kisses that made you moan softly. “You’re so fucking wet.” His thumb started brushing against your folds, pressing on them and flicking against them, making you a moaning mess.

Your body arched against him, craving more of his touch, more of the heat that only he could provide. "Dabi, please..." you begged, your voice barely a whisper.

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "Impatient, aren't we?" 

“Please,” you whined, trying to make him slip another finger in your needy hole.

“Suck my dick and you’ll be rewarded,” he cooed, gently slapping your hand, pushing it off his one. as he brought his finger that was previously buried in you to his mouth, licking it clean. “Tasty as always.”

You knelt down before Dabi. The water flowed down your face and body, making your skin glisten with moisture. He looked down at you with a devious grin spreading across his face.

You began by gently kissing his inner thighs, teasing him with soft, wet kisses. 

He let out a soft moan.

Next, you wrapped your hand around the base of his hardening cock, enjoying the feeling of its weight in your hand. The water from the showerhead made it slippery and smooth, making your task all the more pleasurable. 

You then leaned forward, parting your lips to take the head of his cock into your mouth. 

He hissed through his teeth, hissing, "Fuck, yes," as you began to suck on the tip of his cock.

You swirled your tongue around the head, tasting the salty pre-cum that leaked from his slit. It was a taste you had grown to love, and it only served to heighten your own arousal. You took his entire length into your mouth shortly after, your lips sliding down his shaft as your tongue swirled around him.

Dabi's moans grew louder, echoing off the bathroom walls as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You could feel his hands on the back of your head, guiding your movements and urging you to take him deeper.

You moved your hand in sync with your mouth, stroking the base of his cock as you sucked on the head. You paused for a moment, looking up at him.

His eyes were partially closed, and his head was thrown back in pure ecstasy. 

You knew that he was close to the edge, so you decided to take it up a notch.

You took his cock into your mouth once more, using your hand to massage his balls as you pushed his dick as deep down your throat as you could, gagging yourself. You could feel his balls tighten, a sure sign that he was about to cum.

Dabi let out a loud moan, his cock twitching as he erupted into your mouth. “Fuck, yeah,” he growled.

You swallowed every drop of his thick seed, savoring the taste of his cum as you milked his cock for every last drop. Still on your knees, you looked up at him smiling sweetly, your lips still wet and sticky with his cum.

Dabi smirked down at you, pulling you up to your feet. But then, he lifted you slightly so you could wrap your legs around his waist, pressing your back against the shower wall. 

“Dabi, please, I need you!”

He met your gaze, his turquoise eyes burning with desire. "I love it when you beg," he said, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face. He nipped and sucked at the skin of your neck, marking you as his. 

Your hands tangled in his hair, urging him on. “Fuck me,” you whispered, biting your lower lip.

"Fuck, you're beautiful," he murmured against your collarbone, his breath hot and teasing as he lined his cock with your tight entrance.

Without another word, he pushed his cock into your pussy with a single, powerful thrust. 

You cried out, your back arching as pleasure and pain mingled in a heady rush. 

Dabi set a relentless pace. His large hands gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove deeper, harder. “So fucking tight,” he murmured.

The cool tiles pressed against your back, a stark contrast to the heat of his body as he pinned you in place, fucking you rough, just the way he liked.

Your breaths mingled, ragged and urgent, as the tension built within you. You could barely catch your breath, your fingers digging into his shoulders as you tried to anchor yourself. "Dabi," you moaned, your voice a mixture of desperation and bliss. "Don't stop."

His lips curled into a smirk at your words, and he leaned in to capture your lips in another kiss. 

You could taste the salt of your combined sweat and the faint metallic tang of his tongue piercing.

He broke the kiss to nip at your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "I won't stop," he promised, his voice a low rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. "Not until you scream my name." His grip tightened on your hips, and he angled his thrusts to hit that perfect spot inside you.

You whined pathetically like a cheap whore. You could feel the tension coiling in your belly, ready to snap at any moment. 

His hips pistoned into yours, his veiny cock brushing against all your sweet spots as he fucked you rough. 

Your eyes rolled back into your skull whenever the tip of his cock pressed hard against your cervix, making you wetter with every passing second. You were glad he was fucking you in the shower; otherwise, he’d leave you a total mess, too exhausted to clean yourself. You slipped one of your hands between your bodies to rub little circles around your clit for more friction, rolling your head back to rest it against the tiles as the pleasure made you shiver and moan.

Dabi chuckled darkly, squeezing the meat of your ass before spanking it hard enough to leave an imprint of his hand. "That's my little cockslut," he praised, nibbling your earlobe.

When he hit that particularly sweet spot of yours a few times in a row, you couldn’t help it. With a cry, you squirted, your release mixing with the water cascading around you, staining his shredded abdomen.

Dabi chuckled, licking his lips. "That's it, little matchbox, that's my good girl. Is daddy making you feel that good?”

“Y-yes,” you whined, burying your head in the crook of his neck, feeling all shy out of sudden. “I… I wanna cum…”

Dabi chuckled and hissed after feeling your pussy clamping down on his cock. "Daddy's going to make you cum."

With a final, powerful thrust, you both shattered, the release crashing over you like a tidal wave. 

Your pussy convulsed around his cock as if it tried to milk all of his cum, every nerve ending alight with pleasure. 

Dabi held you tightly, riding out his own peak with a guttural moan. Before he cum though, he withdrew from you, and jerked himself a few times, coming all over your abdomen with a loud groans escaping his lips.

As the aftershocks subsided, you clung to each other, the steam slowly dissipating around you. 

Dabi's forehead rested against yours, his breath warm and soothing. "Feeling clean now?" he teased, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

You chuckled, brushing a damp strand of hair from his forehead. "Yeah, I guess… I feel even more tired, but damn, it was worth it.”

He kissed you gently, a tender contrast to the intensity of moments before. "Anytime, little matchbox. I fucking love you.”

You chuckled, gently stroking up and down his toned chest and abdomen. “And I love you too, my edgy arsonist.”

A frown crossed his forehead, but he let out a soft chuckle. "Well, this time I'll let it slip, but call me that again and I'll have to punish you."

You nodded, and the two of you began washing yourselves.

No matter how hard it was to be a villain, facing it together made it all worthwhile.

[rafecamerons-national-anthem]

𝐿𝒪𝒰𝒟𝐸𝑅-𝒟𝑅𝐸𝒲 𝒮𝒯𝒜𝑅𝒦𝐸𝒴

𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕤𝕞𝕦𝕥

𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪 While laying in bed, the two of them can't help but overhear their upstairs neighbors going at it rather loudly. Drew Starkey turns to Y/N after a while, and asks, "You wanna fuck louder than them to establish dominance?".

✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮♥✮

The room was bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, casting a warm light over their intertwined bodies. The air was thick with the sweet scent of their shared laughter and the promise of a lazy Sunday afternoon. However, the peacefulness of the moment was suddenly pierced by the unmistakable sounds of passion emanating from the apartment above.

The couple had become accustomed to the occasional cacophony of their neighbors' love making, but this time it was more persistent and more…enthusiastic than usual. Y/N, blushing at the intrusion of sound, rolled over to face Drew, her cheeks flushed a delicate shade of pink. "Wow," she murmured, trying to suppress a giggle, "they're really going at it up there."

Drew's gaze darkened with a hint of mischief as he studied her expression. He could feel the heat radiating from her body, the way she squirmed slightly under the covers in response to the auditory assault. He knew she was as turned on by the sounds as she was embarrassed by them. With a smirk, he leaned closer, whispering in her ear, "You know what that means, don't you?"

Her eyes grew wide, and she playfully swatted his chest. "What? That we should get some earplugs?"

Drew chuckled, his voice a low rumble against her skin. "No, baby," he said, his tone dropping an octave, "it means it's time for us to show them how it's really done." He took her hand and placed it on the bulge growing in his pants, his eyes never leaving hers.

Y/N's pulse quickened at his words, and she felt a thrill of excitement mingle with the embarrassment. She knew Drew well enough to recognize the challenge in his eyes. He wasn't one to back down from a dare, especially one that involved outdoing someone else's performance. And she had to admit, the idea of being louder, more passionate, and more in sync than their neighbors was incredibly arousing.

With a smirk, she leaned in closer to him, her breath warm against his neck. "Alright," she whispered, "you're on."

Drew's eyes lit up, and he sat up with a sudden burst of energy, pulling her closer. He kissed her, deep and slow, tasting the sweetness of her lips, his hands roaming over her body, setting it alight with anticipation. The sounds above grew more intense, almost a rhythm to which their bodies began to sway.

Pushing the covers aside, Drew revealed her bare skin to the fading light of the day. He took his time exploring every inch of her, his fingertips tracing the curves and valleys of her body with a reverence that made her feel like a work of art. His mouth followed the path of his hands, leaving a trail of kisses and nips that made her squirm and gasp.

Y/N's hands weren't idle either. She tugged at his shirt, pulling it over his head, and ran her nails over his muscular back. Her fingertips danced along the waistband of his pants, hinting at the need to remove the barrier separating their bodies.

Their neighbors' passionate cries grew louder, and the bedframe above them started to knock against the ceiling in a steady, rhythmic beat. Drew paused, his eyes dark with desire, and turned to Y/N with a smirk. "Ready to show them what we've got?"

Her eyes sparkled with the same challenge, and she nodded, her breath hitching in anticipation. Drew leaned in to kiss her once more before standing up, his pants pooling at his ankles. He reached for her, his hand sliding around her waist, and pulled her to the edge of the bed.

Their eyes locked, and with a silent nod, they both knew the game had begun. They were going to be the soundtrack to the evening, their cries of pleasure echoing through the walls, leaving their neighbors to wonder who the real stars of the show were.

Drew's hands roamed up her thighs, his thumbs brushing against the damp fabric of her panties. "You're so wet, baby," he murmured, his voice thick with need. "Are you thinking about how much louder we're going to be?" His words were hot against her skin, sending shivers down her spine.

"Fuck, yes," she breathed, her voice almost as loud. She could feel the ache deep inside her, begging for release. "I want you so badly."

He hooked his fingers under the elastic and pulled her panties aside, exposing her to the cool air. He dipped his head, his tongue tracing a path up her slit, making her arch her back and let out a moan that was music to his ears. "Tell me how much you want it," he demanded, his breath tickling her sensitive skin. "I want to hear you scream for me."

"More," she panted, her nails digging into his shoulders. "I want all of you."

He didn't need any further encouragement. Drew slid into her, filling her completely, and she cried out his name as he began to move. Each thrust was deliberate and deep, setting a tempo that matched the sounds of passion from above. He whispered dirty words in her ear, telling her how sexy she was, how tight she felt around him, how much he loved watching her come apart.

Their bodies moved in perfect harmony, their skin slick with sweat as they chased the crescendo of their shared desire. Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, urging him deeper, her voice rising to meet the crescendo of their neighbors' cries.

The sounds grew more frantic, their bodies moving faster, the headboard of their own bed now colliding with the wall in a symphony of passion. Drew's hands found her breasts, his thumbs flicking over her sensitive nipples as he drove into her. "You're so close," he groaned, his eyes never leaving hers. "Let go, baby. I want to feel you come around me."

Her eyes rolled back, and she bit her lip to stifle a scream. The orgasm crashed over her, her body convulsing as he pounded into her. The neighbors' noises grew fainter as she lost herself in the sensation, the only sounds that mattered now were their own.

As the waves of pleasure subsided, Drew leaned in to kiss her neck, his breathing ragged. "We're louder," he murmured, his voice filled with triumph.

Y/N's laugh was breathless. "You think?" she quipped, a grin playing on her lips. "I'm pretty sure they heard me in the next zip code."

He chuckled, his chest heaving with exertion. "Good," he said, his voice a low growl. "They know who the real winners are."

They lay there for a moment, their hearts pounding in unison, basking in the afterglow of their victory. The room was filled with the heavy silence of satisfaction, the only sound being their intermingled breaths.

Drew pulled out slowly, and Y/N felt a twinge of loss. He leaned over to kiss her softly, his eyes filled with love and amusement. "Ready for round two?" he asked, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Always," she replied, her voice still a bit shaky from her climax.

And with that, they were off again, their bodies tangling, their whispers growing louder, their passion igniting the night. The neighbors had unknowingly set the stage for an intimate battle of love and noise, but Drew and Y/N had turned it into a celebration of their own fiery connection, proving once again that nothing could ever come between them.

Drew's hands moved to her hips, holding her in place as he began to thrust again. "You feel so good," he groaned, his voice raw with need. "So tight, so wet." His words were a sweet symphony of dirty talk that played into her ears, turning her on even more. She responded with her own set of screams, telling him how much she loved feeling him inside her, how he filled her up in a way no one else ever could.

Their kisses grew more fervent, their tongues dancing together as their bodies moved in a rhythm that was all their own. He could feel her tightening around him, her legs trembling with the effort of staying still. "Come for me, baby," he urged, his voice a raspy growl. "I want to feel you come apart again."

Her eyes fluttered closed as she focused on the sensations building within her. "Drew," she whimpered, his name a prayer on her lips. "Yes, yes, yes." The words turned into a scream as she shattered around him, her body writhing with pleasure.

He followed her over the edge, his hips bucking against hers as he emptied himself into her. The room was alive with their cries, the sound of their bodies slapping together, the headboard banging against the wall in time with their frenzied lovemaking.

As they lay there, panting and sweaty, the sounds from above had faded into the background. The neighbors had finished their performance, but Drew and Y/N were just getting started. They were in it for the long haul, ready to outlast and outdo the competition in the most intimate of ways.

Drew rolled onto his back, pulling her with him so she was straddling him. He slid back inside her with a sigh of pure satisfaction, her wetness making it easy for him to move. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, his hands cupping her breasts as she began to ride him. "I can't get enough of you."

Her eyes met his, dark with desire. "I'm all yours," she whispered, her hips rolling in a sensual dance that had him gripping the bed sheets. The headboard thumped rhythmically against the wall, each impact echoing through the room.

"Ride me, baby," he encouraged, his voice strained. "Harder. Fuck me like you own me, yeah?"

Her cheeks flushed, but she obeyed, her movements growing more erratic. She leaned down, her hair a curtain around them, her breasts bouncing with each bounce. She whispered dirty words into his ear, telling him just how much she wanted him, how good he felt, how she never wanted it to end.

Their bodies moved together like they were one, their hearts racing as they pushed each other closer and closer to the brink. Drew could feel his orgasm building again, and he knew she was right there with him. "Come for me," he urged, his hands moving to her ass to help guide her. "I want to feel you come all over me."

And come she did, her body tightening around him as she screamed out his name, her eyes wide with ecstasy. He let go, his own orgasm tearing through him like a wildfire, leaving him spent and utterly content.

For a moment, they just lay there, panting and smiling at each other. Then Drew leaned up to kiss her, a gentle press of lips that spoke volumes about his love for her. "You're amazing," he murmured against her mouth.

Y/N grinned, her eyes sparkling. "We should challenge them to a rematch next weekend," she teased, already eager for another round.

Drew chuckled, his arms tightening around her. "Oh, you're on, baby," he said, his voice still husky with passion. "But for now, let's just enjoy the quiet."

They lay there, their bodies tangled together, listening to the sound of their hearts slowing down. The sun had set, leaving the room bathed in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The sounds of the city outside had grown quieter, the world seeming to hold its breath as if it knew not to disturb the lovers in their post-coital bliss.

As their breathing evened out, Drew rolled them over so he was on top, his weight pressing her into the mattress. He kissed her again, a soft, lingering kiss that promised more to come. "I love you," he whispered, his voice filled with a tenderness that made her heart flutter.

"I love you too," she murmured back, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They lay there for a while longer, their bodies entwined, the only sound in the room the quiet murmur of their love.

But the silence didn't last. Soon, the neighbors started up again, their passionate cries drifting down through the floorboards. Drew pulled back, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Ready to go again?"

Y/N laughed, her eyes sparkling. "Always."

And with that, the battle of the bedrooms resumed, their bodies moving in a dance of love and lust, each trying to outdo the other, their cries of pleasure a challenge to the couple above. The walls of their apartment trembled with the force of their passion, their love a declaration that could not be silenced.

Drew's hands moved to her ass, his fingers digging in as he drove into her, her nails leaving trails of fire down his back. They were lost in their own world, the sounds of the city and their neighbors fading into a distant hum as they focused on each other, on the feeling of skin against skin, of hearts beating as one.

The neighbors grew louder, their rhythm increasing, but Drew and Y/N were unfazed. They had each other, and that was all that mattered. They moved in a silent challenge, each thrust, each kiss, each gasp a declaration of war in the battle of the bedrooms.

Their love was a force to be reckoned with, a crescendo that built and built until it shattered through the walls, until their neighbors could no longer ignore the fiery passion that burned between them. And as they reached their peak, their voices melding into one loud, triumphant shout, they knew they had won.

The night was long and filled with love, their bodies speaking a language that needed no words, their hearts beating in a rhythm that only they understood. And when the sun began to rise, painting the sky with shades of pink and orange, they collapsed into an exhausted, sated heap, their breathing finally evening out.

They had claimed their dominance, not just over the sounds of their apartment, but over each other's hearts. And as the city began to stir, they fell into a deep, contented sleep, their bodies still entwined, the echoes of their love reverberating through the quiet apartment.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥 @nicholaschavezslut69

[lolapiastri]

his sinful secret | p. gasly

warnings: smut, heavy religious imagery and themes, a sinful amount of dirty talk, like pierre cannot stfu, heavy degredation, everyone gets head, choking, a some praise, spitting, this is like actual filth maybe being ill makes me horny idk

author's note: i'm blaming this filth on the fact that i'm under the weather rn but jesus christ be fucking warned, she's a roller coaster

pierre prided himself in his religion. it was important to him, that belief in a higher power was the faith he needed to live the life he did. it seemed the driver life was one full of jealousy, gluttony and lust, but he was determined not to fall victim to the sins like so many before him.

so he payed his dues. he went to church whenever he had a free sunday, said a silent prayer for his friends and family every night, gave thanks to the lord before every meal as a token of appreciation.

his religion wasn’t a joke to him, it never would be. it was a belief that kept him sane, kept him in order, kept some sense of purpose and responsibility in his life. it wasn’t something that he would pick and choose whether to follow or not. he was all or nothing with his belief, and he chose all.

until he met you.

you were his sin personified, his dirty little secret. whenever you two were together all thoughts of his religion left his mind, as he now existed to serve you, to worship in between your thighs, listen to your moans as if they were gospel. it was like any holy thought left his mind the second your skin brushed over his.

he never wanted to give into the temptation. he saw you as a challenge, a sign to resist sin and stay thinking holy thoughts. but when you showed up at the club in a tight white dress, hair tumbling over your shoulders as your hips swayed provocatively to the music, he knew that nothing could stop him taking you home that night, and many a night after that.

which is how he ended up knocking on your flat at 9pm on a monday evening, the day after a tough race where he just felt useless. a double dnf for alpine followed by a race without points. he felt horrible, felt like a failure, and all the comfort that his producers and members could give him could never make him feel as good as you could.

the warm orange hues of a southern french sunset lit up your apartment as you swung open the door, the golden hour glow accenting the faint highlights in your hair. you were underdressed for pierre's standards, normally revealing yourself to him in a lacy set he bought for you, or sometimes even nothing, looking like a greek statue as you left nothing to the imagination.

today was different. you weren’t expecting him; you had no warning to any chain of events about to follow. so you opened the door to show yourself in a white linen shirt, almost certainly his, that was so large on you it was practically a dress, that you had been lounging around your flat in.

pierre didn’t care, however, thinking you were still as stunning as ever. the white made your tanned skin seem darker, and with a few buttons undone your cleavage was truly out on display, a teaser at what he would truly see later. a pair of large hoops hung in each ear, with a small chain around your neck with ‘10’ engraved on it finishing the look. he loved that necklace, a sign that you and him had some kind of connection, even if it was only through a piece of jewellery.

“you alright?” you asked, eyes scanning from head to toe. it was rare for pierre to show up without telling you, if he ever had. there was a silent agreement that he would let you know when he needed to release energy, to be in your presence, to succumb to the sinful energy you supposedly emitted.

he shook his head. “fucked the race yesterday. now wanna fuck you.”

and there it was. the switch that flicked where pierre ignored his religion, ignored the purity and goodness he was supposed to uphold, and you became the deity he worshipped.

his hands grabbed your face as he pulled you into a needy kiss, calloused fingertips rough against your smooth skin. the kiss held a thousand emotions: anger, upset, disappointment, lust, love, and enough passion to knock you back on your feet, needing the stability of pierre's hands to stay upright.

he always kissed you like it was his last on earth, like he may never get to do this again so he was going to savour every second of it. and he was so passionate - maybe because he was annoyed, maybe because he was stressed, or maybe because you were the only person who got to see this pierre. this raw, untamed, animalistic pierre who you adored seeing so much.

he slowly edged you back into your room, hips pushing against yours ever so slightly, enough to encourage your hips up against his, creating the tiniest bit of friction to ease the growing need between your thighs. you heard him shut the door behind you, never once taking his lips off of yours, befor his hands slid from your face to your neck.

you let out a quick gasp as he squeezed into your skin, feeling him smirk into the kiss as your breathing got shallower and shallower. he often did this. pushed your boundaries as far as he could push them. watched as your slowly cracked under the euphoric torture he performed on you.

he pulled back from you, letting out a chuckle as you chased his lips. he looked down, easily towering over you, a look of fake-pity etched all over his face.

“look so pretty with my hands wrapped around your neck, huh?” he asked, almost certainly a rhetorical question as he squeezed that slight bit harder, looking down at your thighs rubbing against each other, determined to find some relief from the ache in your core. “and you love it as well, love it when i choke you, when i treat you like a slut.”

his words went straight to your core, and you couldn’t rebute them without the lie showing all over your face. pierre eased up on your neck, hands now trailing down your body, over your rib cage, counting down with such an intent focus you would think it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body.

“wearing my shirt, must have missed me?” he asked, tone nonchalant but undertone the opposite. the agreement is that you don’t miss each other. you don’t have feeling for one another. you fuck. that’s it.

you took in a deep breath as one hand crawled under the white linen and felt the material of your underwear. lace, of course. pierre's favourite. you were aware of how his race went yesterday, and you were planning on sending him some photos to ease the pain. you did that often, when things weren’t going so well for him in the f1 world, a little pick me up in the form of barely lit lingerie pictures and videos of you moaning his name.

“never,” you teased, your hands rising over his shirt, pulling it off his body and exposing him in all his glory.

my god, was he stunning. you had never seen another man like him, one so broad and muscly yet slim and defined. his skin had grown darker in the past few weeks, undertone becoming more and more golden as his hair lightened under the european sun. he’d been keeping his hair long lately, and though you weren’t a fan at first, when you gripped it while he was your legs it was safe to say it grew on you. his eyes had a chill behind them, one only you were lucky enough to see, which told you that he had one hundred wonderful and wicked ideas to try out with you.

“white lace?” he questioned, having a peek under the shirt, the colour not normal for you. pierre liked navy, so that was what you normally wore, as well as black and red. he didn’t even know you owned a white set, and he had seen a lot of lingerie on you.

you hummed. “you like it?”

he loved it. loved the way the white material contrasted your skin, the way the quickly fading light bounced off it making you glow, the way he could already see the wetness collecting from your arousal. and most of all, he loved the way you looked angelic in it, look like the heavens yourself had sent you, because nothing you ever did was angelic. you were never angelic when you sucked him off, let him fuck you into oblivion, enjoyed being degraded and teased, and when you dressed the part, it somehow made everything more dirty for him.

“would love it more if you got on your knees.” the suggestion was an order, and of course you obeyed, sinking into the cold wooden floor of your bedroom and looking up at him with blinking eyes.

he looked majestic, light pouring out from the window behind him. and when he went to unbuckle his belt, your mouth already starting salivating in preparation, knowing what was coming. pierre must have been able to sense your eagerness, as he let out a wry chuckle looking down on you.

“always so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” all you could do was nod in response, leaning forward as mark slid his trousers down to pull his dick out from his boxers.

you were still in awe every time you saw his cock. sure, you’d been big dicks before, but pierre's was something in of itself. it was as majestic as his body was, and taken care of the same way.

you went to take it in your mouth, but pierre quickly tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you back, letting out a soft chuckle as a pout appeared on your lips.

“honestly, i don’t fuck you for two weeks and you forget all your manners. you think you just get to suck my cock? you think you’re worthy of that? dumb little girl.” his degrading words went straight to your core, you having to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together as you looked up at him pleadingly.

“please, pierre,” his hand tilted your head up, nothing stopping your eyes from baring into his, seeing the devilish glint in his eye, “please.”

“please what? come on, good girls know how to beg properly,” he teased, watching down evilly as you whined at his harsh words.

you took in a deep breath. “please let me suck your cock, pierre.”

he nodded. “keep going.”

“please, just wanna make you feel good. please let me suck it, all i wanna do,” you were unravelling, slowly losing any previous willpower you had to resist his charm, diving headfirst into the depths of hell you two created together. it was a beautiful chaos, a place the two of you could completely unravel and just be morsels of sex and passion. “please, pierre, just want your cock in my mouth.”

“fuck, your such a whore for me. never seen such a lovely girl want cock so bad. but you’re not a lovely girl, are you?” you nodded, so desperate for him. “that’s right, baby, you’re a desperate little slut who’s only thought is dick, so why don’t you show me how much you love this one, yeah?”

his words would be the death of you. they were your bible, you would have done anything he asked you do when he was speaking in that deep, honey tone, french accent getting thicker and thicker as he lost himself in the moment. whatever he preached in church, said as he prayed, these were the opposite of that. these were the thoughts that hid in the back of his mind until he was around you, and then they were an unstoppable spew of sin and lust and as many other unholy emotions he could think of.

you sunk down on his cock as soon as you had permission, taking as much in as possible before starting to bob your head, swirling your tongue when you rose to the tip of his dick. he let out a deep groan when you choked around him, his length still too big even after a few months of sucking him off. his hand tightened around your scalp, guiding you up and down and up and down.

you pulled back to catch a breath, a string of saliva still attached to his dick, creating a link between you. pierre watched as you licked it up, before replacing your mouth his your hand, throwing his head back as your thumb rubbed over his tip.

“tell me how much you love this cock, baby,” he grunted, his words not surprising to you. when everything seemed to be going wrong in his life, pierre thrived on the praise of others. his parents, his mechanics, his engineers, and in this state you. any words that made him feel appreciated, needed, loved, he thrived on.

“love it so much, baby,” you panted, “so so much.”

and with that you started sucking again, still using your hand on everything you struggled to fit. his breaths got shallower and shallower as you kept going, feeling the muscles in his chest tensing as he got closer and closer to his high.

“look at you on your knees for me,” the hand in the back of your hair tilted your head towards the mirror you had in your bedroom, and the sight was one you were sure would be engraved in your memory for years to come.

it was like a renaissance pairing, the way the two of you looked. both glowing in the sunset light, sweating clinging loose strand of hair to your foreheads. pierre's mouth was hung open, defined abs clenched, looking completely gone with pleasure. your back was arched while on your knees, thighs clenched together as your mouth swallowed pierre down, tears slowly building in your eyes, threatening to break loose and paint your cheeks with mascara stained water.

“want me to finish in your mouth?” he groaned, obviously so near to the edge. but he always asked. no matter how intense anything was, pierre always asked.

you hummed in agreement around his cock, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin and bringing his orgasm that little bit closer. he took complete control now, fucking your face with sporadic, wild thrusts, before pulling back and waiting for the orgasm, your hand guiding him through it.

“open your mouth, baby,” he grunted, on the brink of the most sinful euphoria he could feel, “stick your tongue out for me- there you go. pretty little slut on her knees for me. never seen such a beautiful girl act like such a whore-”

and with that he came, covering your tongue and lips with his cum, groaning as he finally got the high he’d craved after the last two weeks. you carried him through it, keeping your mouth open until he’d completely finished.

“show me your tongue, baby,” he panted, a maniacal laugh appearing when you eagerly showed him your face. “god, you’re so good for me, you look so pretty covered in my cum, huh? go on, look at how messy you are for me.”

you turned you back to the mirror, and you got a proper look at how gone you were. your tongue was still out, eyes dazed over, nose to chin covered in pierre's cum, with your cheeks stained with mascara tears.

he pulled your head back, forcing you to look back up at him, before he leant over and spat in your mouth, the most sinful action of the night.

“swallow it up, yeah, there you go,” he almost whispered, and you did as he said, taking everything he had given you and the rest that he swiped in from your cheeks. “god, you’re always such a good girl for me.”

he was always softer after an orgasm, like he suddenly became aware of how harsh his words were, how you could easily take them the wrong way. you never did, but you appreciated the effort, and you appreciated him.

wait. no you didn’t.

“up you get, baby,” he cooed, helping you stand up and immediately wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying your through your flat like it was his own. he had spent so much time here it might as well have been.

he placed you down on the bed, letting you lean against the frame as he dimmed down the lights, leaving the room in a small, romantic glow. he finished undressing himself, before finally turning all of his attention to you.

this is where it became a sin.

see, pierre didn’t believe that pre-marital sex was a sin. well, whether or not it was he was more than happy to partake in it. what was a sin, however, was worshiping false deities. yet that’s exactly what he did to you.

after the agression you had just experienced, pierre knew it was time to turn his attention to in between your thighs, somewhere he could sit for hours and never get bored. it was a form of worship, how he treated you, one that he could never admit to the universe, a secret shared between the two of you.

his hands ran up your bare thighs, kneading them as his mouth followed, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses along your skin. your legs spread automatically, a sigh of pleasure already coming from your mouth, just the motivation pierre needed to keep going.

"fuck, baby," he gasped, as one of his fingers stroked over your panties, feeling your sticky wetness caused from pierre's dirty words earlier, "fucking soaked for me, huh?"

"yes," you sighed as one of his fingers found your clit, making ever so light circles over the lace, "only for you, pierre."

"i know, baby, god you look so beautiful like this."

and he wasn't lying. with your back arched, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, his shirt bunched up around your ribcage so he could see the rise of fall of your stomach as your breathing got shallower. he thought you were majestic, undenyable beauty, something to be worshipped.

so that's what he did.

he pulled your panties off and dived straight into your pussy, nose hitting your clit as his tongue worked wonders, lapping up the wetness and causing pornographic sounds to emit from your throat. god, was he good at eating you out, and when he added to fingers and curled them against that spot inside of you, you knew you were not lasting long.

"baby- oh my god, pierre- i'm gonna cum," you whined, hips bucking so much pierre had to use one of his arms to hold you in place.

pierre chuckled against your clit, the vibrations just bringing you closer to the edge. "yeah, i'm making you feel good."

"so good, pierre, so so so good."

and that was enough for him. sometimes he would make you beg, have you crying from the edging he would put you through, but he knew he was harsh earlier, and you had been so good your deserved to come.

"come for me then, baby," he grunted, fingers speeding up their pace, "come all over my fingers, make a mess of me, baby."

he words tipped you over the edge, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as pierre carried you through your high, breathing finally slowing down as pierre abandoned your pussy and staring leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft flesh of your thighs.

"think you can go once more for me?" he asked between kisses, and however tired you were you always wanted to please him, always wanted to make him feel good.

so you pulled him over you and braced yourself as he pushed inside of you, the stretch making you hear colours as his lips finally connected with yours for the second time that night, tongue exploring your mouth until he was fully inside of you.

"never gonna get over how good you feel wrapped around me, baby," he mumbled against your lips, pleasure evident on his face, "so fucking warm and wet, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"

you couldn't even respond, mouth stuck in an o-shape as he began to thrust in and out, his tip hitting your cervix as he picked up the pace.

"don't know what i would do without this cunt, think i would go insane not knowing this is always here for me, because it is, isn't it? this is my pussy."

pierre told himself he would hold back but he just couldn't help it, the feeling of being inside of you driving him crazy as his hips snapped against yours. only pierre's sinful words and the sound of skin against skin filled the room now, the feeling ever so dirty and sinful, just the way you both liked it.

"my fucking pussy to do whatever i want with, my playtoy, that's what you are, yeah?" he teased, and all you could do was whine in response as you grew closer and closer to your second orgasm.

"just a set of holes for me to use, aren't you? can't even speak because i'm fucking you so good, huh? just a cumdump for me, a slutty, pretty, cumdump. you want my cum, my pretty little whore?"

all you could do was nod, hoping that was enough for pierre right now. he chuckled, but you could tell he was close by the way his thrusts were growing irregular. and he could tell you were close by the way you clenched around him.

"you wanna cum? tell me who's making you feel this good."

you mustered up all the energy you had left to speak, hoping the words came out of your mouth. "you, pierre, only you can make me feel this good."

"tell me you belong to me," pierre didn't even know what he was saying at this point, the words leaving unconciously, his sinful desires becoming more and more evident in the world.

"i'm yours, pierre. every part of me is yours, i belong to you. god-"

"yeah, that's right, i'm your fucking god," he grunted, and that word, even though it's not what you meant, made both of you come undone together, a moan leaving both of your mouths as pierre collapsed against your chest, chests rising and falling as you attempted to calm down.

pierre pulled out, ever so gently, and knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, watching as some of his cum escaped from your swollen pussy. gently, he used his finger to scoop it up, and push it back into your cunt, before leaning back over to meet your lips in a kiss.

"thank you," he muttered, "for this. hope i wasn't too harsh."

you chuckled. "a little, but you know i like it. shit, though, i would have called you god sooner if i knew it would get that reaction."

with those words, pierre froze. those words should have never been said, should have never been put into the universe. it reminded pierre of his sin, of everything you tempted him towards. with no other option, he chose to escape your lustful allure, and made a mental note to pray tonight.

"gotta get back to the office, usami will be expecting me," pierre left one final kiss on your cheek before leaving.

you pouted, so many unspoken words floating on your tongue. stay. be mine. i love you. yet none of them were said, instead sending him a sad smile before grabbing your phone from your bedside table, just hoping deep down he felt the same way.

if only you knew you were just his sinful secret.

[carylbeach]

Silent Sunday

[photosbyjez]

Silent Sunday Dec 22

Silent Sunday Dec 22

Hi all 👋 My latest post for Silent Sunday. Dundee Waterfront

[jennaispunk]

A Sunday Kind of Love

Summary: A lazy Sunday afternoon at the Miller House.

Pairing: Married!Joel Miller(Jackson!Joel) x f!reader(wife)

Rating: T

Word Count 1.2k

Tags/Warnings: fluff, domesticity, soft!Joel, reader(wife) can be picked up by Joel but no other physical description is given. Photos in the moodboard are for aesthetic only.

A/N: This was written for @beefrobeefcal Joel Sat on Me ‘24 challenge (Sorry this is so late,bb. I know fluff ain’t your stuff, but I hope you enjoy it anyway). This is what Joel deserves, to grow old and be happy with the love of his life. Special thanks to @sawymredfox for reading this over for me.

Moodboard by me. Dividers by @saradika-graphics

Sundays were meant for rest, a day to relax and recharge. Joel wasn’t on patrol, and you didn’t have to be at the stables. Honestly, it was your favorite day of the week. It was just the two of you, Ellie was at Dina’s. Nothing but peace and quiet surrounded you.

The late afternoon sun streams through the front window, warming your face. There’s not a single cloud marring the cerulean Wyoming sky. You lay on your back, stretched out on the worn sofa in your living room, your feet carefully tucked under your husband’s arm.

Although this couch had definitely seen better days, it was comfortable. In a way, it was a lot like Joel; a little rough around the edges but still a safe, cozy place to lay your head.

The birds chirp out a chorus, accompanying Joel as he strums a lazy tune on his guitar. A smile slowly spreads across your face as you immediately recognize the song, “Wish You Were Here”, by Pink Floyd. That song evokes memories, both happy and sad, for you both.

This is your favorite version of Joel, the one that’s relaxed and content, with a hint of a smile on his plush lips. Not much has changed about Joel since you’ve known him, except his waistline. You can’t help but notice how his jeans are a little snugger around his thighs and the way his flannel stretches across his belly as he leans his guitar against the wall next to the couch. It’s not really his fault, you all but forced him to become your official taste tester now that Mrs. Callahan is teaching you how to bake in exchange for giving her granddaughter horseback riding lessons. His growing belly is all the proof you need to know your baking skills have definitely improved.

You don’t mind the change, in fact, you like it. As far as you're concerned, it’s just more of him to love. His extra cushion keeps you warm now that the nights are getting a little colder, and his belly presses against you in the perfect way when he’s on top of you.

A brisk October breeze flows through the open window making you shiver a little. You reflexively wiggle your toes even further under Joel’s arm. The slight twitch of Joel’s body makes you smirk.

“Joel Miller, you’re ticklish.”

How could you not know this about the man you married? How had you never discovered this lovely little secret?

“M’not.” He grumbles.

He denies it too quickly, and your toes probe the area once again eliciting a soft chuckle and an even bigger jerk of his body.

“Careful, angel.” He warns, his eyes playfully narrowing. “If you keep on, you're going to have to deal with the consequences.”

“Oooh, I’m so scared.” You giggle and hold your hand out and make it tremble. A devious smirk plays on your lips.

You know you’re playing a dangerous game, but you go for the kill, hands descending on that spot. His laughter rumbles through the air and you feel his belly shake. He manages to push your hands away, his eyes narrowing at you and it his turn to smirk.

“You’re really asking for it.”

Your eyebrows jerk to the sky in a silent taunt.

“Gotta catch me first, babe.”

You sprint away from the couch with him hot on your heels. You can’t stop squealing and laughing as he chases you around the kitchen toward the dining room table. You run around the table and immediately realize your mistake when you give yourself a moment to catch your breath.

Joel stares at you, eyes gleaming with mischief from across the table ready to pounce. He’s got you cornered with nowhere to go. You know you’re fucked but you juke right and make a mad dash to the left only to have Joel scoop you up and toss you over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. You flail, laughing and gasping for air as he carries you to the bedroom.

“No, no, no.” you squeal as he throws you down on the bed.

He crawls on top of you pinning your hips to the bed between his thighs.

“Get off me, you big ol’ bear.” you giggle as your hands weakly try to push him away and you squirm under him.

“Too late.” he grumbles, smiling as he captures both your wrists in one hand and pins them to the bed above your head.

“You asked for this, angel.” He proceeds to assault your sides with his free hand, hitting your most ticklish area.

His thick thighs have rendered you incapable of moving anything but your lower legs, which are kicking wildly in vain. Your laughter fills the room between your gasps for air.

Tears trickle down your cheeks as your face begins to darken from laughing so hard. You know he’s taking pleasure in watching you writhe under him, struggling against his large body.

“Joel…” you plead. “Joel, please…I can’t…breathe…”

His hand slows to a stop, and he just watches you as you catch your breath. You look so beautiful with your face all flushed, your cheeks damp with tears of laughter. How did I get so goddamn lucky?

He lifts up and pushes your thighs apart, settling between them. His belly presses firmly against your core. He’s the best weighted blanket you ever had.

“Easy, honey.” He purrs, his voice low and gravely. “Just breathe.”

A few stray giggles escape your lips as you slowly begin to calm down. This is what it’s all about, what makes everything the two of you have been through worth it. This perfect moment when the rest of the world just disappears and the two of you are the only thing that exists.

“I love you so much, pretty girl.”

He presses his lips to yours. His tongue gently teases your bottom lip, begging for entrance.

You part your lips for him, getting lost in the feel of his weight pressing you firmly into the mattress. You’re completely at his mercy, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

A rough hand glides down your side to the waistband of your leggings, his other hand still restraining your wrists above your head. He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, something he likes to do to remind himself that your real and not just a figment of his imagination. You’re here, and you’re his.

“I love you, too.”

You hum softly as his lips brush against your jaw, his scruff lightly dragging across your skin. You never thought you’d find happiness again after being alone for so long, but happiness was right in front of you in the form of a burly former contractor that almost everyone else in Jackson was just a little afraid of.

He lets go of your wrists and pushes your shirt up over your stomach as his lips continue to lovingly assault the soft skin of your neck.

“Aren’t we supposed to be at Tommy and Maria’s for Sunday dinner soon?”

His warm breath tickles your neck as he chuckles softly.

“Yeah...” he breathes against your skin. “but they can wait.”

You can’t help but giggle as he playfully nips your neck, right over the spot that makes you arch your back into him.

Joel’s right. They can definitely wait.

[aventurineswife]

Can I request Ratio, Moze, Aventurine, Sunday, Dan heng, Argenti and Jing Yuan involving their s/o or spouse in their exercise? Ill leave it up to creative freedom fr u but like the kisses when doing push ups or somehow practicing their attacks on their s/o in wholesome ways (just an idea but Churin doing the coin drop attack while his partner holds an umbrella above their head or something more wholesome)

-🍮♠

Love Is The Most Dangerous Strategy Of All

Tags: Ratio x Reader, Moze x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Dan Heng x Reader, Argenti x Reader, Jing Yuan x Reader, Fluff, Romantic Moments, Established Relationship, Playful Banter, Combat Training, Sweet Gestures, Slow Dancing, Quiet Moments.

Warnings: Mild Violence (in sparring and training sequences), Themes of Emotional Vulnerability(?), Light Suggestive Content (kisses and teasing moments), Mentions of Intense Training Practices.

Ratio sat at his desk, papers scattered around him in an organized chaos. His long hours of intellectual pursuit often left him longing for an outlet, and today, he had come up with an idea. He glanced toward you, lounging on the couch, your eyes glimmering with curiosity.

"Would you like to join me in a mental exercise?" Ratio asked, the usual sarcasm in his tone replaced by something more playful.

You raised an eyebrow. "Mental exercise? What kind of game are we playing?"

Ratio’s eyes twinkled behind his glasses. He stood, stepping to a corner of the room, and retrieved a sleek board game filled with complex patterns and symbols, designed to challenge even the sharpest minds. "A game of logic and strategy. You will need to anticipate my every move—much like our relationship."

You laughed. "That sounds... dangerous."

"Only for those unprepared." Ratio smiled, his usual arrogance softened by the lightheartedness of the moment.

The game began, and Ratio’s mind whirred at full speed, trying to anticipate your every move. You were quick to catch on, forcing Ratio to keep up. At one point, after a particularly sharp maneuver, you leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, catching him off guard.

"Consider that a victory." you teased.

Ratio smirked, adjusting his glasses. "Such tactics will not deter me. But... they may motivate me to work even harder."

The night was quiet, save for the soft hum of distant winds. Moze stood in the middle of a training ground, his blade drawn, eyes focused. You watched from the sidelines, arms crossed, concerned but intrigued.

"You’re being too hard on yourself." you called out softly.

Moze’s eyes flickered briefly, but his expression remained cold, impassive. He was practicing his shadow strikes—silent, swift, and deadly. You stepped forward, offering a gentle suggestion. "What if you let me help?"

Without a word, Moze nodded, moving toward you with eerie grace. He signaled for you to stand in the middle of the training area. “I won’t hurt you.” he said, though it sounded more like a command than a reassurance.

The training began. Moze’s strikes were fast, but he purposefully slowed them down, practicing his precision. You stood still and calm, evading each strike with fluid motion, barely moving a muscle.

After several attempts, Moze finally approached, his blade hovering near your neck. Instead of striking, he lowered his weapon, looking into your eyes.

"Perfect. You’re becoming as swift as shadows themselves."

He didn’t need to say more. You smiled, taking a brief pause to kiss him gently on the lips before stepping back. "And you’re finally letting go of the shadows, aren’t you?"

Aventurine grinned mischievously, twirling a coin between his fingers. You stood beneath a large, intricately designed umbrella, a slight frown tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Are you certain this is safe?" you asked, shifting your weight to one side as you adjusted the umbrella.

"Of course!" Aventurine said with a wink. "It’s all about the thrill of the game."

He took a deep breath and dropped the coin. With a fluid motion, he twirled his body, hands outstretched. The coin landed perfectly in his palm as he spun, effortlessly dodging the shower of raindrops that fell on you both.

You laughed, but it was a laugh filled with admiration, your gaze following his every move.

"Impressive," you said, watching him strike a dramatic pose with the umbrella still held above you. "Maybe I should take a gamble with you sometime."

Aventurine, ever the charmer, closed the distance between you and kissed you gently on the lips. "The best bet I’ve ever made is the one on you."

Sunday stood in a garden bathed in the soft glow of twilight, his coat flowing behind him like a royal cape. You stood nearby, watching him with admiration. Today, Sunday had chosen a more gentle form of exercise—a slow dance, a symbolic gesture for peace, a reflection of his own philosophy.

"Shall we begin?" he asked, extending his hand.

You smiled, taking it without hesitation, your fingers intertwining. As the music started, you moved in tandem, each step purposeful and elegant. Sunday’s eyes met yours with a quiet intensity, his every movement controlled, graceful.

"Feel the rhythm," Sunday whispered, spinning you under his arm. "Life, like dance, is about harmony."

The dance flowed seamlessly, your movements as one, until Sunday pulled you close, his lips brushing against your ear. "You are the perfect partner, in every way."

You smiled, your heart full, and kissed him back tenderly. "And you are the dream I never want to wake from."

Dan Heng stood at the training grounds, the spear in his hands. He was practicing a series of swift thrusts and spins, each movement calculated, precise. You stood by, leaning casually against a tree, watching with a mix of admiration and concern.

"Don’t overdo it!" you called out after a particularly powerful strike that sent a gust of wind rippling through the air.

Dan Heng paused, his stoic expression unchanged. He glanced at you, an almost imperceptible smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I’m fine." he replied softly.

However, it wasn’t long before he offered to let you join in. "Would you like to try?"

You raised an eyebrow, surprised. "With the spear?"

Dan Heng nodded. "It’s about control, not strength. Let me guide you."

With a gentle hand on your waist, Dan Heng showed you the proper stance, your bodies aligning in perfect symmetry. As you practiced together, Dan Heng’s stoic demeanor softened, the quiet moments filled with shared trust. After a few successful strikes, you smiled up at him.

"Not bad for someone who’s all about silence," you teased.

Dan Heng chuckled, albeit quietly. "It’s not about what’s said. It’s about what’s felt."

He kissed you lightly on the forehead, grateful for the peace you brought to his turbulent heart.

Argenti stood, his sword gleaming in the sunlight, the red fabric of his attire flowing in the breeze. You sat nearby, watching him intently. His expression was one of perfect concentration as he practiced his swings, each movement a deliberate attempt to maintain his sense of purity.

He turned to face you, his expression noble yet inviting. "Would you honor me by joining my exercises today? A bout of sparring, if it pleases you?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure you want to fight me?"

Argenti's lips curved into a resolute smile, his eyes gleaming with unyielding determination. "Fear not, for I seek not to harm you, but to temper my resolve. It is the sanctity of honorable combat that stirs my soul."

With a gentle nod, you agreed, standing and grabbing a sparring sword. The match began, and Argenti’s movements were swift and graceful, the perfect blend of honor and beauty. Despite the intensity of the fight, he ensured every blow was controlled, never too harsh.

As you crossed blades, you suddenly spun and caught him off guard, knocking the sword from his hand. You stepped close, your breath mingling, before pressing a quick, teasing kiss to his lips.

"Seems like you need more practice," you teased.

Argenti inclined his head, his voice brimming with pride and humility. "I shall redouble my efforts and train with greater fervor to earn my place in our next match."

Jing Yuan stood in the training hall, his hands poised on the reins of his strategy. You stood before him, the subject of his training today.

"Shall we begin?" Jing Yuan asked with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

You nodded, gripping the training blade he’d given you. As Jing Yuan moved through the motions, his calm demeanor was evident, but there was a playful undertone to his every move. His strikes were light but precise, testing your reflexes and balance.

At one point, as he parried an attack, Jing Yuan swept you into a spin and caught you in a gentle embrace, pulling you close.

"You are growing stronger," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. "But I still hold the advantage in speed."

You grinned, your arms winding around him as you kissed him back. "We’ll see about that."

Jing Yuan’s laugh rumbled softly in his chest as he kissed you again, the warmth of the moment eclipsing the training. "I always look forward to our challenges."

[dearharriet]

Sunday; James Potter 📺

summary: you spend a lazy sunday evening with your boyfriend, james.

word count: 1.5K

warnings: beefy!james, fem!r, established relationship, lots and lots of fluff, mentions of eating

note: BEEFY JAMES 🩷🩷 a second part (or prequel?) to this fic is up now <3

The telly hums gently beside the trickling rain outside, lulling you into a swath of late-afternoon drowsiness. The cooking competition that once effortlessly held your attention is now fuzzy at the edges, the challenges blurring together into a mess of commentary. Beneath you, the sofa seems to swallow you further and further into its enticing comfort.

Distantly, you register the sound of the lock clicking in the front door, and then the push of it falling inward. Your eyes close heavily and startle open again and again, an endless fight against sleep that you’re probably losing.

Thankfully, your boyfriend traipses into the room at that very moment, giving you a reason to turn your head and shake some of the sleep from your person.

He’d popped to the gym while you vegged on the couch, and by the looks of it he’d chanced a trail run. His ebony hair sits in slick curls, dampened with rain. The old shirt he’d thrown on is tacky over his chest and shoulders, likely absorbed with an assortment of rain and sweat. It shouldn’t make him as handsome as it does.

As he tosses his gym bag to the floor, you push yourself up the sofa cushions feebly.

“How’s my gym rat?” you ask sweetly, with a tang of teasing at the corners of your mouth. James is all smiles, leaning into the silly nickname you like so much.

“Hiya, lovey,” he sighs in response, finally settling from his long trek home. He’ll run off to shower in a moment, but for now he moves to lean over the sofa back, aiming to get a good look at you. “Miss me?”

“Mm.” James kisses you once, twice, then leans just far enough away so he can see you. “Terribly.”

“Mm,” he mimics your hum as he leans in for a third kiss, and then two more to your chin. “Same for me. Couldn’t stop thinking of my lovely girlfriend, all warm and dry and falling asleep to the telly.”

“I was not falling asleep,” you insist, even as your eyes droop faintly, dry from so much screen-time.

James lets you have this, though he smiles soft and knowing as he kneads his calloused fingers into the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You sit silently like that for minutes, your forehead meeting his lips in a moment of lucky structure.

“D’you need to shower?” you eventually broach.

“Hmph,” James sighs, “yea.”

Bringing a gentle hand up, he encourages your head back, displacing it to the couch once more. As if you couldn’t possibly do that yourself. It’s a simple thing, an unnecessary thing, but one that James happily does without hesitation.

“Don’t move an inch, love. Back in a tick.”

James disappears, and defying his words—though you know he was exaggerating—you shuffle to spread yourself fully over the sofa.

The shower starts, and the chefs on the screen are up for elimination. You pay hazy attention to who wins, distracted by the muffled water lapping into the tub in the bathroom, and the rain still coming down outside.

Before you know it, you’re slipping under the blanket of sleep, your mind taking each evening apartment noise for its strange sofa dreams.

+

When you wake later, it’s significantly darker outside, and the apartment is fragrant with dinner-smells. The television is playing an antique auction show quietly. You haul up and off the couch, stumbling into the kitchen where James is working.

“Hello, boyfriend,” you greet sluggishly, still wiping sleep from your eyes. A faint headache lingers that only a sofa-nap causes, so you sally up to the cabinet to start a glass of water.

James, presiding over a simmering pan of mystery sauce, preens over his shoulder at you.

“Lovely girlfriend,” he returns. “How was your nap?”

Unsure of your answer, you hum noncommittally. James glances down at you in amusement as you settle against the counter beside the stove, facing him.

“Weird dreams,” you say as a means of explanation.

“Oh, yea?” James sets his ladle down carefully and crosses his arms. You watch his arms tense against his short black sleeves, and then trace his jaw up to watch his damp hair fall over his forehead. You nod distractedly to his question.

James borrows your water glass for a quick swallow, and you pretend to be inconvenienced. You’re sure he only takes it because it’s yours and he’s been compelled to share everything with you since you started dating—maybe even before that.

Handing the glass back and retrieving his utensil, he asks, “Was I in any?”

The answer is typically yes, and today is no different.

“Mm, I think so, yea.” You squint at the ceiling, dredging your warped dreams back to the front of your mind. “We were trying to swim but we had to get a turtle back to its owner first, and then I think the owner was Bobby Flay.”

You’re laughing at the absurdity as you recall the story, and James sends you amused little glances as he stirs.

“We’re lovely for doing as much. Did we get to swim for our troubles?”

“Nope,” you say disappointedly, “the dream changed to something else after that. I don’t remember what.”

James forces a frown that you think is meant to be lighthearted.

“Rubbish,” he curses. “Day ruined.”

Despite his dramatics, James’ free hand snakes over your torso, slipping under your thick sweater to soothe the skin of your hip. You smile contentedly, headache already ebbing away from the water and his hands and the promise of dinner very soon.

“Was your shower very pleasant?”

“So pleasant,” James agrees immediately, and you can imagine the simple pleasure of hot water on rain-wet hair. It makes you run your palm up his bicep, soaking in his warm skin, his clean clothes.

“Mm. I’m glad.”

A moment later, James steps away to fish a spoon from the silverware drawer. Returning, he dips it into his stew and offers it to your mouth.

“Taste,” he says, but you’re already closing your lips around it. You’d thought it was some kind of pasta sauce, but it’s significantly more rich and spicy than expected. It’s good.

“Curry?” you guess. James nods happily. “I like.”

Giving it his own taste-test, James seems to be happy with the flavor, too. A few more stirs for good measure and then he’s flipping the burner off and thwacking the spoon over the pan to rid any excess.

He moves around like a trained professional, removing the pan from the heat and wiping his hands on a kitchen towel. Competence is always sexy, but James has a way of amping it up further, twisting the metaphorical knife of affection you’ve taken for him.

There’s no arrogance in what he does, despite how good he is at it. He’d brag for days on end about his prowess in the gym, or on the field, but there’s a dexterity he has at home, too, that he doesn’t seem interested in flaunting. It’s the happiest you see him, when he’s practicing this genius of domesticity, and it makes your chest ache.

“Thank you, Jamie,” you muster sweetly, as he ferries your bowl and his to the living room. You reclaim your place on the sofa, and James settles in beside you.

You eat in a fuzzy silence, not really paying attention to anything in particular, just enjoying the food and the company.

“Good?” James ensures, glancing at you. You hum around a bite, enthusiastic. “Not too hot, you’re sure?”

“It’s perfect,” you tell him, calf pressing against his. “I was so hungry.”

“I bet,” he agrees.

Lapsing back into silence, you both pay haphazard attention to the TV once more. When your bowl is empty, you place it beside James’ and ease back into his waiting arms thoughtlessly. It’s like pinging from one good thing to the next—out of the meadow and into the clouds. You sigh.

“I love Sundays.”

James hums his agreement, the sensation shivering up your back. He follows with a press of his mouth, just over your temple.

“Love you, dear.”

The nickname makes your lips lift. James only calls you dear every so often, when he’s feeling truly, undeniably sappy.

You tilt your head up to catch his eye, watching his expression soften the same way yours does. Twisting in his hold, you press a kiss to his strong chin, his aquiline nose—reach up to fix his glasses, just because he’ll let you.

James strokes your back like a harp, and your humming is the music. You know you’ll go to work tomorrow, and you’ll miss him all day, but for now time feels doused in molasses. The apartment—James and you included—is swimming in the thick, sweet flood of your idle words and touches, as it will be tomorrow night, as it was the night before. It’s enough to make the long weeks worthwhile.

“Love you, too, Jamie,” you say, and then it’s him lulling you to sleep instead of the cooking channel.

+

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