#THE LIGHTING FLUFFBALL

[maranull]

SHE DESERVES THE FORTICHE DESIGN TREATMENT PLS

do you know how feral your gay ass fanbase would go if you designed her, do you Fortiche??? her whole character arc is redemption, she is buff as hell, she wields a sword the size of her goddamn body, like PLS

on my hands and knees

[microplasticpear]

[tonariofjananda]

I dunno I think they might share a couple similarities

Some ramblings about the concept of bloody tears below…

Someone was wondering about Tonari crying blood in the OP on Reddit some time ago and tbh it always made me wonder, I’d just get distracted by how pretty that 1 second was lol. This is interesting tho, I guess it acts as a fake death knell. It’s arguably the only thing that was 100% lie the opening, if that was the intended symbolism. It might not be, idk 🤔 If anyone is more familiar with the symbolism I’d love to hear your thoughts. Or who knows, maybe they just did it cuz it looked beautiful. And damn if my girl doesn’t look beautiful 😔

Then there’s Giorno, who, due to childhood trauma, is incapable of crying. He trembles instead. It’s not a detail that’s crazy important to the overall story, but it does shed some light on more emotional scenes where he begins to shake. That said, there’s a scene towards the end of the arc where his stand gets hit over the eye and shatters. I always thought it’d be cool for the scene if his eyes went read and he “cried blood” à la Castlevania. He technically does this in other stand battles, sustaining an injury around his eye in one fight, and having streaks of blood fall from his forehead and down his cheeks in another; but the final battle comes directly after he knows how many of his friends have died . It woulda been neat little detail, but maybe Araki didn’t want to overuse it after having done something similar twice. Still a cool thought tho!

Actually I can’t believe I forgot about Fushi also “crying blood” on Jananda towards the beginning of the tournament. While I think his tears can fall under this explanation, I think he more closely falls under the same explanation as Giorno. Both the idea that he can’t cry due to normal means, but also the fact that he’s thinking about Gugu while this happens, so he really is overwhelmed with emotion tbh.

[yuukiiqwq]

Satoru is the type to get jealous over little things because he just wants you all to himself. Right now, he's sulking on the couch. Why, you may ask? Let's rewind a bit.

When you finally moved into Gojo's house, you got a cat. No, you didn't adopt one. It was Gojo. He came back one day with a cat.

"Toru. Why are you holding a cat?"

"Excuse you! His name is Fluffball!" He huffed. "And starting today, he's living with us!"

You blinked at him. Did he just name the cat Fluffball? What kind of name is Fluffball??

"Satoru Gojo."

He flinched at you, calling him by his full name. His brain instantly went into danger mode and activated his secret weapon.

"He'll keep you company whenever I go on missions!" He said as he gave you the puppy eyes. "And isn't he adorable?"

You bit the bottom of your lip. This was cheating. He knew that you couldn't resist. You don't mind adopting a cat... but out of nowhere? Do you trust yourself with taking care of a pet?

You sigh as you gave in. You couldn't say no. The cat was adorable after all...

"Fine. We can keep him."

His eyes instantly lighted up as he smiled down at the cat in his arms.

"You hear that Fluffball? She said yes!" He spins around with the cat, causing the cat to let out a series of meows.

You shaked your head from his antics. "Stop spinning the poor cat. And we will not be calling him Fluffball."

Thus causing Satoru to whined immediately. After all, in his opinion, Fluffball was a great name!

That was a few weeks ago. Now, back to the present. You ended up adoring the cat. Which is fine and all, but you've been paying attention to the cat more than Gojo lately. Like he's right here next to you, and instead of cuddling him, you're cuddling that cat.

And the name you came up with for the cat? Even worse. You took his nickname and gave it to the cat.

How did he find out? Well, it started with you asking for the cat to come over to you.

"Toru, come here," you called.

Satoru immediately came to your side, but you had a look of confusion, thus causing him to become puzzled himself.

"Satoru, why did you come over?

"You called for me! Obviously, I came to your side as fast as possible!"

You narrowed your eyes at him. "I was not calling for you. I was calling for Toru." You motioned your hand towards the cat that came over. You immediately picked him up and covered him with kisses.

He was absolutely confused, and it wouldn't be the last.

Out of nowhere, all the nicknames you would call him would go straight towards the cat. No, he was no longer Toru. Or Babe. Or Darling. Or Baby. Or love of my life. Or beautiful dashing amazing boyfriend. He was just Satoru.

He regrets ever bringing that cat home. So what did he do? Well... he called Suguru for a favor.

The next day, when you came home calling for the cat, no noise was heard. You searched all throughout the house but didn't find the cat anywhere. Then you heard the front door unlocking and Satoru walking in with the biggest smile.

"Satoru, do you know where Toru is?"

He walked up to you and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close.

"Satoru?"

"Well... I invited Suguru over while you were out, and Suguru just fell in love with the cat."

"What?"

"He wanted to bring him to his house for a few days! He said something about how he adores that little thing and wanted to spend a lot, and I mean a lot of time with him!"

You immediately knew something wasn't right. There was no way Suguru would do something like that.

You sternly repeated his name– "Satoru."

You stared him in the eyes, waiting for him to tell you the truth.

"Fineeeeee. I called Suguru for a favor," he whined as he nuzzled against your neck. "You're spending too much time with Fluffball! You're forgetting your amazing boyfriend!

"I am not forgetting you, Satoru. We literally live together. You're insufferable, and like you said, you're my boyfriend. I can't forget you that easily. And his name is not Fluffball."

"Oh, so now you remember your poor lonely boyfriend! Don't lie to me!" He huffed at you. "You're calling that cat by my nicknames! What happened to calling me Toru! Or baby! Or my beautiful dashing amazing boyfriend!"

"I have never called you by that last one in my life," you said as you rolled your eyes at him. "Are you really jealous of a cat, Satoru?"

He leaned into you, putting all his weight on you. He was basically crushing you as he continued his whining.

"So what if I'm jealous! You're not paying any attention to me! I thrive off of attention! Especially yours!"

You chuckled at his response.

"There's nothing to be jealous of Satoru. How can I make up for your horrible suffering?"

You felt the instant regret the second those words left your lips. You see the way his eyes get clouded with lust as you feel one of his hands trail up your thigh.

"Oh, you'll make it up to me, alright," he whispered in your ear. "At the end of this, the only thing you'll be able to think of is me and my cock."

He then pulled you into a hungry and greedy kiss. He kissed you like he had been deprived of you for years. And in his opinion, he has.

You only noticed you're in the bedroom once you felt the soft mattress behind you. You don't recall how he brought you into the bedroom. All you know is that you're in for a very long night because he's not letting you go anytime soon.

[lurkinginnernarrator]

Cang Qiong's rumor mill has a new topic.

Peak Lord Shen hasn't been seen in two weeks. The last time he was seen was flying back from An Ding, where he purportedly commandeered some unknown objects from An Ding's storerooms after a hasty discussion with Peak Lord Shang. He entered the Bamboo house and hasn't emerged since.

The most popular theory is Peak Lord Shen is conducting some sort of toeing-the-line-of-taboo ritual.

Eventually, someone convinces Mu Qingfang to do a wellness check.

The Qing Jing disciples greet their Mu-shishu respectfully, the disciple escorting him to the Bamboo House inquiring as to the nature of his visit, seeing as 'Shizun wasn't expecting shishu today.'

"This master is merely here to visit your Shizun."

The disciple bows after announcing Mu Qingfang's arrival.

Mu Qingfang opens the door.

"Shen-shixiong?"

"Mu-shidi? To what do I owe the pleA—FUCK get BACK HERE YOU ARE NOT"—the sounds of struggle reach Mu Qingfang's ears and he leaps to action, striding in to take stock of the situatio...n.

Shen-shixiong is flat on his stomach; outstretched hands tightly grasping a precocious ball of fluff. His eyes gleam in victory, the scene casting it in a more crazed light. There is a heaviness to Shen Qingqiu's eyes that cultivation cannot banish and miscellaneous stains on his person. And, looking around, the Bamboo House is a disaster. Books, brushes, scrolls, inkwells and fans are scattered around, many haphazardly dropped on the floor. There is. Also. Hay?

Mu Qingfang freezes in the doorway. Ball of fluff and Shen Qingqiu also freeze.

"Is... Shixiong alright?"

This seems to snap Shen Qingqiu into action. He scrambles up firmly but with care, cradling the fluffball. Shen Qingqiu gets himself in order as best he can with both his hands occupied and clears his throat.

"Ah...Yes. this master is fine. To what do I owe the pleasure?..."

The fluffball twitches, wriggling until Shen Qingqiu loses his grip on it. It hops to the floor. A juvenile Whitecrested Snowrabbit of Agility stares up at Mu Qingfang.

"This. Shidi could come back at a more opportune time?"

The bunny starts chewing on a scroll.

"I believe that would be best."

Mu Qingfang backs out of the doorway.

He does send tea to help with Shen-Shixiong's fatigue and a subspecies of carrot that Whitecrested Snowrabbits are supposed to favour though.

I wonder what the next topic of Cang Qiong's rumor mill will be?

[avidfics]

Chasing you

Summary: You’ve been on the run from Carol after sending a drunk voicemail. A month later, Carol has found you and doesn’t plan to let you go.

A/N: Came out of a writing hiatus cause I love this woman. There’s not enough carol x reader fics on this app and she gives me the warm fuzzies. Comments and reshares are appreciated :)

Warnings: Pretty PG-13, playful teasing, fluff, some tears, few misspellings, mentions some characters from The Marvels

Three things were painfully obvious as you woke up. This wasn’t your bed. These weren’t your clothes. The “Space Girls Do It Better” sleeveless crop top didn’t belong to you. 

Oh, and there was a fluffy, orange flerken licking its genitals ontop of your chest. A pretty deep cleaning by the looks of it.

“Um.” your voice croaked, the result of a long nap. “Mr. Flerken sir, I’m going to move you and place you on the floor-” Three tentacles shoot out from the confines of its mouth, wraps around a nearby metal dresser, and swallow it whole.

An audible nervous gulp can be heard from your throat. “New plan. Leave when it pleases you.” 

Armed with the killer fluffball, you creep along the cramped halls of the spaceship and take in the colorful murals that are painted inconsistently through the halls. One reads vaguely familiar, “New Jersey.” 

What’s a New Jersey?

In the back of your mind you have a nagging suspicion of the identity of the owner of the ship. But if you were right, then that would be a bigger problem than someone undressing you while you were unconscious. 

You enter the main pilot room as a childlike scream jars both you and the flerken. 

Kamala Khan’s wide eyed, all teeth smile shines from across the room. “OMG you’re awake!”

“God, no.” you groan. You plead to the heavens that this is all just a stress conjured dream even as the teenager morphs a hard light disk to propel her forward to tackle you into a warm hug. “Kamala, please tell me you're the owner of this ship and you’ve gotten your spaceship driver’s license early?

Her lips curve. “Sure.”

A relieved sigh depletes from your body.

“Sure, I missed you. But this is Carol’s ship. After you left she’s been tracking you for the past few weeks. We got an alert that you were involved in a bar brawl on the planet Aladna yesterday. When she found you, you were already beaten unconscious and bleeding from the attack. Carol scooped you up and took care of your injuries in the med bay.” Her signature dopey smile returns. “She nearly blasted the whole bar apart when she found you. It was epic.” she sighs with a faraway look.

Her smile wouldn’t be so bright if she knew you had no interest in being on the same planet yet alone on a small ship with her honored captain. Your frantic eyes start to scan every nook and cranny of the room. As if Carol would materialize from the launch keys at any moment. You drag Kamala to the control panel and start to hit buttons at random. “No, none of this is epic. Kamala, afraid we need to cut this reunion short. Drop me off at the nearest planet or station. Shoot, give me a space jumpsuit and I’ll simply float outside in outerspace. But I Can Not. Be. Here.” 

Kamala gives a sly look at how you’re acting. “Carol said you’d try to jump ship once you woke up.” she smiles as she pets the flerken still in your arms. “Something about you being embarrassed over something moronic.” 

And there it was. Until now there was a slim grasp of hope that Carol hadn’t known what you did but this just confirmed not only did she know but she wasn’t going to let it go. Goody. No way would you tell the whole story of how you’d gone out drinking with some Skrull girls because Carol was driving you crazy in her freaking halter tops. Then you found out she was married to a prince! Sure, it was only a political marriage but still the revelation made you want to punch something or someone. So drunk out of your mind, you left the most pathetic voicemail of all time sounding like a teenager with a crush. Talking about how she attracts you more than the rules of gravity. What was that! The voicemail ended with your declaration to take the prince of Aladna in a fight if that’s what it took to get her attention.

In your defense, she does like to fight. So you did punch someone…or several someones at the bar.

“It’s nothing.” you blink away the memory. “Carol didn’t have any right to kidnap me off the planet”

“Aren’t you a little old to be “kidnaped?” the dreaded voice calls out from behind you both.

You whip your head around, guilt written all over your face even as your jaw slackens at the hottest, yet fatigued, space hero in the galaxy. 

But at the moment Captain Marvel just looked like Carol. A half smile gracing her lips even as she leans against the entrance. Bare arms out, another damn crop top that barely covers her belly button, and an empty space of tantalizing skin at her stomach before the top half of her supersuit hangs limp at her hips. 

It was giving off duty lesbian about to repair an engine and it was making you absolutely feral. 

Which is why you held the flerken outstretched in her direction.

“Not another step, Danvers.” you warn. “This flerkin here has taken a liking to me and isn’t afraid to defend me.”

Carol tilts her head and her full teasing smile tasks force, causing a full quiver in your heart.

Taking slow, meticulous steps toward you, not caring about the fur-covered danger dangling from your hands. “You’ve taken a liking to my pet, sweetheart?” 

A spurtle of incoherent nonsense leaves your mouth. “It found me when I woke up. I even named him Ginger.”

“Real creative.” her deadpan sarcasm does not go unnoticed. “Put Goose down before he decides to eat you.” You get ready to fight the command but ‘Goose’ does a loud meow and you decide that’s him agreeing with his apparent owner. 

Her eyes flicker to the noisy teenager next to you. “Kamala, go find another wall to destroy.”

“Aye aye, captain.” You make a desperate attempt to grab Kamala but the small betrayer just mouths “You’re in trouble.” before prancing away. 

With Kamela’s exit the room is too quiet and the once spacious room feels tiny and empty, leaving only the bruising reminder of why you’ve avoided Carol for weeks. Sure, your friend can fly, shoot rays of energy from her fist, and literally crush you with her bare hands but none of that ever scared you. It wasn’t your physical body you were afraid she would break, but the fragile, sensitive heart you always protected. But then there was Carol with her small, gentle smile and her laughing eyes and a warm presence that made you want to be soft instead of sharp with pointy edges.

Under Carol’s gaze you were a giant raw wound that was left open and too exposed. You just knew Carol could see it. 

Which is why getting off this ship was imperative. With a new, hardened resolve you turn around and commerce pressing every button in sight.

“You trying to order a pizza? Because there’s an easier way than having us crash into the nearest asteroid.”  The pull of her voice is so strong after weeks of zero contact but you ignore it nonetheless. Not that it deters Carol. “But maybe your bad driving is a result of getting your ass whooped down on Aladna.”

She’s baiting you. Do not give in.

“I mean the fact that you got your butt handed to you by a group of people who normally only fight in song has to make you mad, right?” The silence in response finally gets to her as she stomps up to the dashboard controls and undos every button you’ve pushed in concession. Each time she reaches for a button near yours, fingers a centimeter from touching, you yank away and take a step away. She grunts in return and counters with another step closer. 

Her next jap finally hits her mark with stinging precision. “Maybe next time you should ask the Prince for backup.”

A response fires out your mouth even as you slam your hand against a particular shiny button. “I had it handled, okay? That pretty boy prince might’ve impressed you somehow but his presence in a fight is as needed as yours is to me right now.” The lie turned your stomach and made you feel like Goose’s shit. “You had no right and no reason to take me off that damn planet because I had it covered. Just drop me off at the nearest planet.”

Carol could smell the lie a mile away. The words bounced off her chest. If anything she was trying to hide her arrogant grin at successfully getting your undivided attention, knowing it would make you more pissed. Which was always an adorable sight.

When her sources flagged a sighting of you on Aladna she’d left the spaceship at supersonic speed to reach you after hunting your trail down for the past month. 

At first, friendship was all she needed. But time spent together on various missions gave her deeper understanding on how darn sweet you were despite scratching at anyone who tried to get close. 

But once she clicked play on that cute, yet slightly violent, voicemail any vague restraints of being only friends were dashed. Now here you were, her prickly kitten, and she wasn’t going to be deterred by any of your rounded jabs. 

Now here you stood. Causing internal issues to her ship's mainframe. Slight bruises marring your delicate skin. All reminders that you’d rather be dropped in outer space than occupy the same room with her. Well tough luck. Patience was never her strongsuit. 

A blur out of the corner of your eye was the only warning before the sudden warm body surrounded you from behind. Two unyielding hands grasped yours in an attempt to halt any further error messages from appearing on the dashboard. “Are you not satisfied with my ship, sweetheart? Because you’re awfully determined to break it.” In another determined step she removes any space separating you two until her front is flushed against your back. Tense doesn’t begin to describe how rigid your body gets as you realize, to your detriment, she’s forgone a bra. Even the tiniest move from her causes her soft, malleable breast to move against your back. Your knees buckle even as you silently curse Carol for completely smashing the boundaries of your personal bubble. 

Warm fingers grasp each of your hands and her thumbs caress circles on each hand that shoots straight to your flamed core. A whisper of her lips speaks into your ear, tingling all the way into your spine. “Six. There’s six bruises across your delicate body from that stupid fight. But you didn’t need me, huh?”

The touch and slight reprimand in her voice makes your body shiver. “T-that’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?” You peek behind to see her face as her fingers gently travel down your arm. Brows furrowed with an intense glare as she inspects your minor injuries in detail. “But that’s what you said, no?” 

In an effort to clutch the last remaining shreds of your pride you squint up at her but end up lowering your glare. “Even if you helped me, that didn’t give you the right to take me off the planet.” you murmur. “And who changed my clothes!” 

The gentle hand remains on your arm but the dark look is dashed away, replaced with a serene smile. “Obviously that was me. Like I would allow anyone else to get a peek at what’s mine.” she snorts. As if the idea was simply absurd. 

All fight leaves your body at the new startling news that Carol, your Carol, just called you hers PLUS  she’s seen you naked? 

You gear up to start a rant but two arms twirl you around and hefts you up. Your legs and arms cling to her even as you yell at her to set you down.

Bullheaded Carol ignores you and instead leisurely walks to her pilot seat. As if this was just a normal Tuesday. When she plops in the driver seat, she settles your weight to straddle her hips. Immediately, you try to scramble away but she wraps her arms around you in a metal vise. That damn innocent smile returns. “The chast act ends now. Because I was prepared to let you go but then you left me this.” It’s like a slow motion car accident as she pulls her cell from her pocket and the dreadful voicemail is played at full volume. 

Renewed vigor allows you to break out of her arms but you're too slow as one hand holds you in place on her lap. Making you listen to your drunk declaration of love.

The tears come as you're forced to helplessly listen, already anticipating the mockery that was soon to come, except Carol didn’t laugh. Instead, you felt soft, slow kisses press against your wet check, trailing your tears.

Carol nuzzling your neck is the only thing stopping your crying as you realize she wasn’t laughing. Her tired smile and fatigued smile returns. “You're so dramatic, kitten. Don’t ask me what “right” I have to kidnap you and bring you on our ship after you left a message like this for me. 

Sensing you were no longer a flight risk, her hard grip releases your wrists. Instead, she traces your face, rubbing away your tear trails. “For now on, you're coming back and helping our missions, warming my bed, and if you start anymore bar fights you better finish them or have your girlfriend there to finish the job for you.”

For the first time in a month, a genuine smile graces your face. Brave enough to fully settle your weight on Carol’s lap, you grasp the nap of her neck to angle her lips for a kiss. When your lips finally connect a deep, dragged out moan leaves Carol’s mouth. Her hands slide up your thighs and squeeze your ass. “Don't run away again.” she warns.

“Aye aye Captain.”

[overtake]

Where vet Max’s foster dog decides to chase down a rotisserie chicken and potential boyfriend Maxiel | 2.5k

CWs: light references to past animal mistreatment re abandoned kittens or dogs with trust issues - nothing explicit and every animal is okay!!

Max has fostered exactly thirteen dogs and cared for hundreds each year at his job, but none have ever challenged him quite like FiFi.

He hadn’t picked her name, he’d told Victoria sternly when he picked up the small, fluffy monster to show her off to the camera. She’d been regaled with two straight days of stories about how his new foster dog was tearing up his apartment and barking non-stop. Clearly, she’d been expecting him to show off the same pit bulls that decorated his “successful fosters” photo wall, barrel-chested and strong enough to overpower him. They, however, have all been gentle, doe-eyed angels. FiFi, on the other hand, probably has some underground demonic breed in her, and she isn’t afraid to express it.

Max never judges any of the fosters that come to him. They've all been betrayed by humans and were scared to trust again. It’s his job to make sure they can learn to feel safe with him and the people who will eventually adopt them. FiFi, despite her small stature and general cute fluffiness, is his greatest challenge yet.

Struck out on all possible ideas to get her to stop yapping all day, Max has resorted to walking her endlessly around a nearby park and tiring her out so thoroughly that she forgets her life’s mission to rack up noise complaints for Max. She’s good with other dogs, so he's happy to let her run free in the dog park and get out all that energy.

What Max hadn’t accounted for, apparently, is that FiFi has been hiding Olympic-level pole vaulting skills. He watches in horror as FiFi escapes the small dog exclusive zone to leap right over the shorter fence and barrel toward a tan, Roman-nosed guy wearing Beats and swinging along a grocery bag without a care in the world.

“FiFi!” Max calls, swearing as he scrambles over the fence with more difficulty than she’d somehow faced. The hot guy has finally caught on to the small white fluffball at his heels and burst into a run, FiFi nipping after him the whole way.

“FiFi, come here!” Max says desperately, breaking into a run of his own. His lungs burns with the effort. For such a tiny fucking creature, she can sprint like absolute hell.

The guy rips off his headphones in terror as if to better hear FiFi’s impending attack, and Max yells out to him. “I’m so sorry! She’s not dangerous, I promise!”

The guy doesn’t slow. FiFi lets out a little yip that sounds like disagreement, and Max watches in amazement as the guy throws himself against a tree trunk and begins scrambling up the branches. When FiFi reaches the tree, she scratches at the base, wriggling her tiny body and whining when she’s not able to magically scale it - though at this point, Max wouldn't be surprised if she'd magically gained that ability.

Max finally catches up, bending over and catching his breath. He heaves in and out, failing to form words in the meantime. It takes him three tries to grab FiFi and clip the leash onto her harness.

“I’m so sorry,” he pants up to the guy, who is staring down at FiFi’s fluffy body in abject horror.

Then, when the ridiculousness of this image hits them both at once, they begin laughing in unison. Max is trying really, really hard not to make fun of the guy, but it is objectively funny to see a grown man chased up a tree by a creature Max can hold with one hand.

“It's okay,” the hot guy says, though he waits until Max has FiFi cradled against him before he shimmies his long, muscular limbs down the tree. “I guess I shouldn’t buy a rotisserie chicken and walk by a dog park. Lesson learned.”

“I hate to victim blame, but you were asking for it,” Max agrees. “I’m Max, and this demon is FiFi.”

“Daniel,” hot guy says. “And FiFi? Seriously? I’m changing her into something big and scary when I retell this story. Definitely calling her Killer or something."

“Don’t listen to him, Fi,” Max sniffs haughtily. “You’re very intimidating.”

He glances Daniel up and down, really taking him in. He’s in long athletic shorts and a big hoodie, brown curls escaping a beanie pulled low over his forehead. He’s even hotter when he’s not a sprinting blur or hidden amongst branches.

“You have leaves on you,” Max says, pointing at his own head to indicate where little twigs and branches caught on the fabric of Daniel’s hat. Daniel unsuccessfully attempts to brush them away, and Max shakes his head.

“Do you mind if I —?” he asks, and Daniel acquiesces, bending his head down for Max to gently pull at the debris. When Daniel straightens, Max catches the way he looks at Max's thighs in his too-short shorts — thank god he's been too lazy to do laundry for a pair that fit — and goes for it.

“Can I get your number?” Max tries to blink his eyelashes in a way that looks more sexy than seizure-y. He grips FiFi’s leash tightly for confidence, willing himself not to look away. Daniel smiles, taking in Max’s appearance again with an appreciative up-and-down, and Max is sure he’s about to agree.

Then, like FIFi senses that something might actually go right in Max's life for the first time since he brought her home, she lets out one short, sharp bark. Daniel’s attention redirects to where Max has her pulled tight into his chest. When his gaze flicks back to Max, his face has transformed back into something cautious and polite, and he leans back against the tree instead of curling toward Max like he was a second ago.

“I’m really flattered, but I’m not looking for anything right now." The apology is thick in his words, and he does look genuinely upset about it. “It was nice meeting you, though.”

Max doesn’t let the disappointment weigh him down too much and tries for a casual shrug. “Yeah, no problem. Sorry again about her.”

He doesn’t put FiFi down as he walks away, letting her warm body comfort him as he strokes her soft fur. “I do not think you helped my chances,” he whispers to her. She looks at him with an innocent expression, and his eyes involuntarily well up. She didn’t mean anything bad by it. She was just hungry. According to the shelter, she’s permanently nervous that someone is about to snatch food from her. He can’t be mad at that face for being traumatized and wanting food from a hot guy.

“I’ll get us chicken tonight,” he promises her. As if she can understand him, she melts into his chest instead of trying to find an escape route. For the first time, she lets him carry her the whole way home.

---

Max is on his third Red Bull of the day when Logan walks into the break room with the put-on innocent smile that means he’s about to ask Max to stay past close for some bleeding heart case because he’s too afraid to ask anyone else.

“No,” Max says before Logan can even start. “I have been here all day. There are four other vets at this practice.”

Max loves his job, truly. Getting to work with animals was always his dream. No matter how painful it can be, every time he sees a sick animal return to health because of his care, he remembers why he started this practice in the first place. 

Logan, however, is driving him insane. Outside of work hours, they get along just fine. Max had actually given him this job after Oscar at the shelter begged Max to give Logan a shot. Unfortunately, this also means Logan immediately turns to Max to take on the walk-ins who find injured dogs or stray kittens. Max may technically be in charge here, but Logan barely knows anyone else and gets too intimidated to ask them to stay late.

“It’s so easy,” Logan says, words spilling out quickly so Max can’t cut him off. “It’s just some stray kittens this guy found in a parking lot. It’ll be fleas and shots, and Oscar already agreed to help sort out a foster. They are so fuzzy, Max. The cutest little noises.”

Max bangs his head against the table once, twice, three times. “I’m not fucking kidding, Logan. This is the last time. Next time, I am dragging you in front of Lewis and telling him you’re too scared to ask him to work overtime.”

“They’re in room two,“ Logan says gratefully, then scurries out before Max can take it back.

He finishes the last dregs of his drink, tipping the sharp metal against his lips to be sure not a drop of caffeine is wasted, and puts on his most approachable face. Despite his exhaustion, it isn’t this person’s fault that Logan agreed to extending his workday.

When Max raps on the door and makes his way inside the room, he finds a ratty cardboard box, clearly having been exposed to the elements, with three mewling kittens inside. They’re young — probably two or three weeks old. Max washes his hands and pulls on gloves, not tearing his eyes away from the sweet little creatures.

“Max, right?” a voice asks. Max forces his glance up from the kittens and startles at whose fingers are protectively clutching the mangled box.

“Daniel!” he says, surprised. Hot park guy looks a bit worse for wear. He’d clearly gotten caught in the unexpected storm outside when he came across the cats. His hair is plastered against his forehead, and his clothes are clinging to him with that distinct rain-dampness.

“I didn’t know you were a vet,” Daniel says. His hands reflexively clutch the box when Max moves to take it from him, but he relaxes and entrusts the kittens to Max.

“I think we were a little too focused on FiFi not eating you to talk about jobs,” Max shrugs. He carefully examines the smallest of the three kittens. As suspected, she’s got fleas, but she looks surprisingly healthy all things considered. “Where’d you find these babies?”

“In the parking lot at that park, actually,” Daniel tells him. He’s focused on the furry body in Max’s hands, eyes unreadable but soft.

“I can’t believe you returned back to such a traumatic place,” Max jokes. He weighs each of the kittens, carefully cradling their bodies, then takes their temperatures. They couldn’t have been outside all that long. All things considered, they aren’t too underweight or cold.

Daniel laughs. “Well, FiFi maybe undid years of work getting over my fear of dogs, but that park does have the best running path. How is FiFi doing? Still terrorizing innocent guys for buying rotisserie chickens?”

Max resists all temptation to run his eyes over Daniel’s legs in their tight workout shorts and compression leggings and very, very bravely looks into his ridiculously attractive face instead.

“She’s good,” Max beams. He doesn’t want to rewash his hands, or he’d show off the photos he'd received last week of her cuddling her adoptive family. “Settling into her new house well.”

A look of horror and guilt flashes across Daniel’s face. “Oh my god. You didn’t rehome her because of me, right?”

Max rolls his eyes. “I’m literally a vet, Daniel. No, I would not dump an animal because some guy in a park was scared of her. She was a foster.”

Understanding widens Daniel’s expression, and his mouth forms a little o-shape. “So I turned you down for nothing?”

Max pauses his movements from where he was about to listen to one kitten’s tiny, thumping heart. “Sorry?”

The red on Daniel’s face is almost imperceptible, but it’s definitely there. “I don’t date guys with dogs,” he explains, wringing his hands together in slight embarrassment. “I thought FiFi was yours, so…”

Max ducks his face down to the kittens before he can let himself smile too big where Daniel might see it. “No. Definitely not mine.”

Max finishes up the exam, explaining each step to Daniel and making small talk about Daniel’s job as a music producer. Daniel’s witty and sharp, and he keeps a steady stream of conversation going, unbothered when Max has to tune him out to attend to some kitten \-related matter.

“They’re good to go,” Max announces. He gently places the last kitten back onto the fresh towel he’d pulled out and lets her curl up with her siblings. He digs out his phone to text Oscar for a foster plan, but pauses with his fingers poised over the message thread.

“Are you interested in fostering them?” he asks Daniel, gesturing to the sleeping kittens. “The shelter tends to prefer experienced fosters for such young kittens, but they’re honestly pretty healthy. We'd have to do a background check and training and all, but it's definitely an option if you want.”

Daniel eyebrows shoot up into something more panicked than when he was in the tree. “No,” he blurts out, then quickly clarifies. “I mean, they’re cute and all, but I don’t trust myself with that. Could I — would it be possible to get updates on how they’re doing though? If the foster doesn’t mind?”

Max’s heart physically expands a few sizes. Daniel’s stroking a gentle finger up and down the smallest one’s spine now that Max gave him the okay to pet them, and there’s fondness even in the uncertain, trembling touch.

“It won't be a problem,” Max assures him, mind made up in a second. He texts Oscar the update and runs through his mental list of whether he’s missing any supplies. He’s been pretty focused on dog fosters in recent years, but he should have everything he needs at home. “I’ll be their foster.”

Daniel doesn’t look up from the little bodies, but Max can still see how his face transforms, crinkles forming next to his hopeful eyes. “Really?”

“Really,” Max says. He holds out his phone, a new contact entry open. “Put your number in. I’ll send you lots of photos.”

“I guess this makes sense with no FiFi around to eat them,” Daniel jokes. He’s put his name in Max’s phone just as Daniel (park). Max makes sure he sees Max deleting ‘(park)’ and adding the poodle emoji after instead, which earns him a flirty arm swat.

Daniel’s hand lingers over Max’s upper arm for a second. He has a rose tattoo down the side of his hand, Max notices. He’s never felt one way or another about tattoos, but he wonders what other ones Daniel’s hiding beneath the long sleeves and skin-tight leggings.

“So, what do I owe you?” Daniel asks after a second, clearing his throat and pulling his hand back like he only just realized it was hanging there. “Sorry, I was in a panic and left my wallet in the car, but I swear I’ll come back in to pay. You have my number now and everything.”

Max shakes his head. “You owe nothing but messaging me back to tell me how cute the cats look when I send photos.”

Daniel chews at his bottom lip. It’s still a little red where he bit at it when he asks, “Well, what about a date? It’s the least I can do.”

Max’s heart jumps and jolts, but he schools his expression into something contemplative. “I should warn you. I’m still going to foster cats, so I hope you’re not too scared of those.”

Daniel relaxes into the teasing. “I’ll learn to get used to them. After all, they can follow me up the trees, so there's no escape.”

“Maybe we should skip any rotisserie chicken for dinner just to be safe.”

Daniel winks, light-hearted but with something serious behind the words. “There's something else I’d rather have for dinner anyway.s”

---

Daniel never admits to it, but when Max finds one Polaroid missing from the wall of successful foster dogs (and three bonus entries of the foster fail kittens currently curled up in Max and Daniel’s bed), he knows the pile of ashes in the bin outside once composed a slightly demonic photo of FiFi. 

+++ Bonus brought to you by @yesloulou: this is FiFi chasing Daniel

[suguwu]

moon eater I four

"But truly, Master Diluc—why am I here?"

"I would wed you," he says, flexing his hands in his lap. "If you are amenable to it."

minors and ageless blogs do not interact.

masterlist

pairing: diluc ragnvindr x f!reader

notes: thank you to everyone who sponsored this fic for fics for gaza's initiative! i appreciate it more than i could ever say. enjoy the chapter!

content: marriage of convenience, politics, some manipulation, pining, jealousy.

wc: 4.5k

The afternoon lengthens. The sun’s rays stretch across the vastness of the Dandelion Sea, bathing the fields in light, catching in the crystalline fluff of each flower, nature’s finest prism. Diluc watches as you kneel among them, carefully plucking a few flowers that haven’t yet faded into fluffballs. Their blossoms shine golden in your hands, little suns fallen from the sky. You gather them gracefully, piling them up in the cradle of your arms. 

He’s not sure what you’re doing; you haven’t bothered to inform him. Still, he’s content enough to watch you work. There’s something hypnotizing about the way your hands move, slipping through stems to pinch the blooms off with deft surety.

(The riverbank was muddy. The water swelled at its edges, cold and clear. Diluc saw the shadows of fish just beneath the surface, their fins swaying gracefully with the current, scales flashing like fireworks when they caught the light just right. The summer sun shone hot, the scalding rays making sweat bead up at the nape of his neck, but the mud was cool against his bare feet. 

You crouched on the bank, scooping up mud with careful fingers. He settled beside you, balancing on his haunches, but you didn’t look up. He watched as you shaped the mud deftly, building a structure he couldn’t quite make out. 

He almost asked, but when he glanced at you, the look on your face stopped him in his tracks. Your eyes were knife-sharp as you concentrated, but joy shone through you, the sun cutting through clouds. He subsided, content to simply watch your delight.

You worked steadily, sometimes letting the mud drip into wavy patterns, as sinuous as a snake, winding through the structure the way the river cut through the mountains. Diluc liked the way your hands moved, delicate but sure. 

He thought he could watch you forever.)

You hum as you pick another sunny bloom, running the pad of your finger over the petals of it. Then you push to your feet and head back to where Diluc is leaning against a tree. The dandelions sway as you pick your way through them, a few loose seeds rising through the air.

Diluc shifts as you settle on the blanket you’d spread out. The dandelions tumble from your arms to pile up like fool’s gold, glinting brightly even in the shade. You pick up a few blooms and start to knot them, weaving them together, your fingers a loom. Your wedding ring glints with each movement.

“Will you help?” you ask, not looking up.

Diluc stiffens. “How?”

You glance up at him, that rosebud smile blooming on your lips. “Come sit,” you say. 

He hesitates for a breath. You watch him serenely, your face a still pond, not even a ripple to betray your thoughts. With a sigh, he uncrosses his arms and pushes off of the tree. He settles across from you on the blanket.

“Give me your hand,” you say.

He balks. “Why?”

“So I can cut it off.” 

He rolls his eyes before he can stop himself; you laugh, the sound catching in the breeze and swirling around him. 

“C’mon, then,” you say, reaching out, palm up.

He stares for a breath. He thinks of an altar carved of flesh and bone, a place to lay everything he has to give. Then he reaches out, setting his gloved hand in yours.

You curl your fingers around his. He wonders if your skin would be cool against his, a snowmelt touch. He thinks it likely, but he’s glad for the protection of his glove. His hands are gnarled with scars and burns, his sins made manifest; they would catch against your softer skin, scrape across it. He doesn’t think he could bear it. 

He watches as you start to wind a dandelion stem around one of his fingers, weaving another stem through it before pulling them towards yourself. You do it again. By the third time, he realizes what you’re doing as a dandelion chain—made thick by the way you’ve woven it, three blooms across—starts to wind around your wrist, each golden blossom a small sun against your skin.  

“A crown?” he asks.

You peer at him through your lashes. 

“It could be,” you say. “I haven’t decided yet. It’s for Anatol’s daughter. I promised I’d make her something.”

“Anatol?”

“One of the Fatui diplomats,” you say, still weaving dandelions together. “He was stationed in Liyue previously, so we know each other well.” 

Diluc tenses. He almost curls his hand into a fist, but he catches himself at the last second, unwilling to ruin the flower you currently have wound around his finger. “I see,” he says. “You work closely with the Fatui delegation in Liyue?”

You hum. “From time to time.” 

“How often?”

You glance up at him again. Your eyes gleam in the sunlight, knife-sharp, an autopsy cut. “Thinking of taking up diplomacy, are we? I must say, I’m not sure you have the temperament for it.”

“Merely curious.” 

You thumb at the stem wound around his fingertip; it vibrates softly, a plucked harp string. He can’t parse your expression. The smile on your lips isn’t a rosebud curve. It’s something harder, the edge of the crescent moon, a fishhook of a thing. It sinks into him, buries itself beneath his skin. 

“It’s funny,” you say softly. “I think you’re more curious about my work than you are about me.” 

Diluc winces. “That’s not—”

“It’s fine, though,” you say. “I know that it’s just a marriage of convenience. Though I hope we can be friends.”

His stomach twists. “Friends,” he echoes.

“If you’re amenable to it.”

He nods, a little sharper than he means to. “Of course.”

Your smile softens. “Good.”  

Before he can say anything else, you hum, tying off the end of the dandelion chain with nimble fingers. “There,” you say. “That should do it.” 

He pulls his hand back as  you wind the chain securely around your wrist, a bracelet of little suns. There’s still a pile of unused flowers on the blanket; you scoop them into your arms before setting them to the side.

Diluc helps you fold the blanket up. Your fingertips brush and he wonders again what your skin would feel like. He shakes the thought loose and concentrates on helping you pack up. It doesn’t take long between the two of you.

“Let’s bring these,” you say, gathering up the extra blossoms again. They spill across your arms in a golden river, sweet and bright. “Lisa uses them for potions, sometimes.”

“There’s room in the saddlebags. My mare’s at the edge of the Sea.”

You nod and the two of you make your way through the Sea. Diluc’s mare huffs as you come into view, tugging lightly at her tether. He murmurs to her, stroking along her flank before checking that the saddle hasn’t loosened. 

“What’s her name?” you ask.

“Daybreak.”

“Pretty name.”

“My father named her. He said I couldn’t be trusted.” 

You laugh. “Really?”

“Apparently I’m bad at names.”

“What would you have named her?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

You look like you’re going to say something, but Daybreak noses at you, searching for treats, and you coo over her instead. Diluc makes a note to give her an apple in the stables; he’s not sure he could bear to admit his chosen name to you. He lets you pet her for a bit before he nudges her away. 

“We should be off,” he says. “The sun will start to set soon.”

“Alright,” you say, tucking the rest of the dandelions into the saddlebag carefully. “I’m ready.”

Diluc helps you up onto Daybreak before taking her reins to start to lead her down the path.

“Diluc,” you say. “Surely you don’t expect me to ride while you walk.”

“It is what I intended.”

You peer down at him. The sun haloes you, crowning you with divine fire. He has to look away.

You sigh. “If you’re walking, I might as well walk too.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“Then ride with me. At least then we’ll get to the city before dusk.” 

He hesitates. “You’re sure?”

“Yes.”

He sighs and hands you the reins. He swings himself onto Daybreak with one graceful movement; he hears your breath catch. He settles behind you, stiff in the saddle to try and keep from pressing up against you. 

It’s not enough. He can feel the curve of your ass between his thighs, the swell of it soft against him. He sucks in a breath. Your scent billows over him, your perfume lingering on your skin even after hours in the sun, lush and inviting. He shifts; you glance over your shoulder at him. He focuses intently on the sweep of your lashes instead of the curve of your lips. 

“Are you alright?” you ask.

He nods, flicking the reins lightly to set Daybreak into a trot. 

You eye him for a moment before turning around. You settle back into the cradle of his hips again, and Diluc bites down on a curse.

It’s going to be a long ride.

—

By the time the two of you arrive in the city, the sun is cracking open over the horizon, bleeding crimson and orange. Cider Lake is afire as you ride across the bridge; it glows golden, a molten pool. 

Daybreak snorts as Diluc brings her to a halt just before the city gates. 

He swings down off her back and offers you a hand. You slip your fingers into his grasp; he grips them carefully as you dismount. He almost thinks he can feel the heat of you through the thick leather of his gloves. 

He lets go once you’re safely on the ground, though his fingertips linger. He pulls back when he realizes, flexing his hand. You don’t seem to notice. You’re already rummaging through the saddlebags to collect the dandelions you’d gathered. Some of them are a little worse for the wear, but they’re burned copper by the setting sun, gleaming in your arms. 

“I’m going to find Lisa,” you say. “Will you be at Angel’s Share?”

He nods. “Come to the tavern when you’re ready to leave,” he says. “I’ll accompany you back.” 

“You don’t need to trouble yourself.”

“It’s no trouble.”

You examine him for a moment; he doesn’t know what you see, but it seems to satisfy you.

“Alright,” you say. “I’ll see you then.”

You’re off before he can respond. Lawrence salutes to you as you spare him a small smile, your lips a sweet curve. Diluc watches you sail through the gates of the city; he breaks free of his trance only when Daybreak nudges at him, nuzzling up against his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he murmurs to her, stroking a gloved hand along her neck. “C’mon, let’s get you stabled.”

He waves off the stable boy when he tries to take Daybreak from him. He sequesters himself away in an empty stall, carrying in water for the mare and stroking at her flank as he takes off the saddle. The light fades as he works, slanting through the window, a melting patch of gold. 

It’s dusk by the time he leaves the stable, faint fingers of light still lingering on the horizon, blending with the darkening velvet of the sky, a watercolor thing. The full-bellied moon is beginning its steady rise. He pauses in front of the stable, glancing towards Angel’s Share.

Then he heads the other way.

The Grand Goth Hotel gleams in the moonlight, rising high into the sky over the courtyard. It should be intimidating, but there’s something quietly graceful about it, like the curve of a dancer’s back. Vines trail over it like lace, tatted over the wood and dotted with bright pops of flowers. A lone Fatuus stands guard in front of the grand doorway. 

Diluc’s fingers twitch.

He longs for the weight of his claymore, for the way the pommel rests in his palm. It would pacify the thing that lingers behind his ribs, a yawning maw that always hungers. He’s never been able to satisfy it; in the darkest hours of the night, he sometimes fears he never will. 

The Fatuus yawns. Diluc steps closer, until he can feel the faint mist of the fountain’s spray. The faint scent of the fountain’s planters rises, stirred into something lush by the water. It’s a little musty, but he doesn’t care; the hotel has his full attention. He scans the building and zeroes in on a moving curtain. 

There’s a figure just beyond it, made misty by the distance, a ghostly outline against the window. The curtain flutters again, flicked shut, and Diluc huffs out an annoyed breath. He watches for a moment more, but the fabric remains still.

When he returns his gaze to the guard, his shoulders stiffen.

You’re chatting brightly to the Fatuus, who has a slight flush on his cheeks, visible even from across the square. Diluc grits his teeth. You’re turned just enough that he can’t read your lips, that he can only see the corner of them, a sweet curve. 

Whatever you say, the guard steps aside. He pulls open the door for you and ushers you inside with a hand on the small of your back. He returns to his post as you disappear behind the massive door of the hotel, the building swallowing you down. 

Diluc’s gloves creak as he curls his fingers into a fist. He strides towards the hotel, his boots echoing against the cobblestones. The guard sees him coming; he pales a little but stands firm at his post. 

“The Goth Grand Hotel has been reserved for the Fatui delegation alone,” he says, though he can’t quite look Diluc in the eye.

“My wife just went inside,” Diluc says, crossing his arms over his chest, knowing it emphasizes the breadth of his shoulders. “I’m meeting her.”

The guard wrinkles his brow. “No access for unauthorized persons!”

“She’s authorized?”

“That’s not information I can share.”

Diluc raises a brow. The guard flinches.

“My wife,” Diluc says, “is inside. I will be joining her.”

“You’re not authorized.”

“Do I look like I care? Take me to my wife. Now.”

“Sir—”

“I’m not asking.”

The guard wilts at Diluc’s authoritative tone, but he holds firm. Diluc would be impressed if he wasn’t so annoyed. His fingers itch for the weight of his claymore again; his Vision is warming against his thigh. He shifts, but before he gets far, your voice rings out in the square. 

“Luc.”

He goes still. Even as children, you’d never taken to calling him by a nickname; to hear it slip from your lips now makes something in him swell. He hadn’t thought—

“Yes, Miss?” the guard asks.

“It’s ma’am,” Diluc says, petty. “She’s married.” 

“I’m sorry about my husband,” you say, sliding out from between the heavy oak doors of the hotel to lay a hand on the Fatuus’ arm. “Diluc, stop tormenting Luke.”

That feeling in his chest deflates like a pierced Anemo slime. His brow knits into a thundercloud expression; the guard—Luke, apparently—flinches. 

“I wasn’t tormenting him,” he says drily, staring at where you’re still touching the other man. “If I was, everyone would know.”

Luke pales.

“Ignore him,” you say. “He’s just grumpy because I’m late.” 

Luke just nods, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. You sigh and turn to Diluc. 

“Shall we?” you ask, and Diluc finds himself raising his arm for you to take hold of without thinking. You slip your hand into the crook of his elbow; he thinks he can feel the heat of it even through his coat. 

You make it just a street over before Diluc can’t help himself.

“Are you often allowed into restricted areas?”

You blink, confused, and then your face clears. “Oh,” you say. “It was just because I was going to see Anatol. It wasn’t going to take long, especially since he met me in the lobby.”

“Still.”

You hum. “It’s because of child,” you say, as if that makes any sense.

“A child?”

The laugh that leaves you is bright; it echoes through the street, lingers shimmering in the air. “No,” you say. “Childe. The Harbinger. We’re quite friendly. It allows me small exceptions at times.” 

Diluc tamps down on his automatic reaction. This is not new information. If anything, he should be glad for it. But it stirs something in him that he’s afraid to name. He breathes out through his nose, a slow, steady flow of air that serves to put out the embers smoldering within him.

“I see.”

You glance at him; he can’t quite decipher your expression before you turn away.

The rest of the walk to Angel’s Share is spent in silence. 

—

The two of you do not spend long at Angel’s Share; Diluc speaks to Charles as you greet a table full of Knights of Favonius. Diluc watches as they stand to greet you, looking far too pleased to have your company. He huffs.

“Master Diluc?” Charles asks.

“It’s nothing,” he says, returning his attention to the bartender. “Please, continue.”

Charles nods and goes on to detail a few small issues that have come up since Diluc was last in the tavern. Diluc listens intently, but his gaze occasionally wanders to the knights’ table. 

You make a sight, sitting primly at one of the tavern’s rustic tables, your hair shining in the flickering lantern light, as if stars are scattered within it. You’re a queen holding court, your mouth a sweet curl. The knights’ cheeks are cherried by alcohol; they’re stumbling over themselves to tell you stories of their trips, their fights, their bravery. 

Diluc wonders if any of them could even take care of a few slimes.

You laugh, covering your mouth with one hand. Your wedding ring glints in the light, and something satisfied curls through Diluc’s chest. 

“Is there anything else?” he asks Charles.

“That’s all, Master Diluc.”

“Thank you, Charles. I’ll take tomorrow night’s shift as planned.”

Charles nods.

Diluc gives him a sharp nod in farewell before stalking over to your table. You glance up as he approaches, your mouth still curled into that rosebud smile. 

“Is it time to go?” you ask, pitching your voice just loud enough for him to hear you. You don’t wait for an answer, starting to push to your feet. Next to you, one of the knights starts to rise to his feet as well.

Diluc lengthens his stride. He reaches the table just as the knight starts to extend a hand to you; he offers you his hand before the knight can fully reach out. You blink as the knight freezes. He sinks back into his chair as Diluc extends his hand further, an obvious prompt. 

You laugh, though Diluc is not sure why. Still, it doesn’t matter, because you slip your hand into his and he closes his fingers around it, helping you from the table. He lets go as soon as you’re by his side. 

“Goodnight,” you say to the table. “Thank you for keeping me company.”

“Of course!” one of the younger knights says, grinning widely. “Though it’s a shame the captain missed you!”

You laugh again, eyes sparkling in the dim light. “Don’t fret,” you say easily. “I’ll see him soon enough.”

Diluc frowns. 

“Travel safe,” one of the other knights—Anselm, Diluc realizes, the one who had escorted you earlier—says. “May Barbatos protect you.” 

“Thank you,” you say, giving him a little smile.

Diluc clears his throat. “It grows late,” he says. “We need to be off.” 

“Of course,” you say. “Goodnight, sirs.” 

The knights chorus a series of goodbyes, somewhat clumsy with inebriation. You laugh again, but don’t linger, heading towards the tavern door; Diluc lengthens his stride once more and opens the door for you. 

Your lips curve sweetly, but you don’t say anything.

The walk to the stables is quiet. True night has fallen, a dark curtain lit only by the lantern of the full moon, casting its light in a perfect halo, blotting out the stars. It grows darker when a cloud crosses the moon, a ship cutting across the sea of the sky. 

Diluc, though, is used to it. He leads you to the stables carefully, keeping to the main roads in lieu of his darker paths, of the murky alleys that not even the moonlight pierces. He stays close by your side; sometimes he thinks you might even lean into the warmth of him. 

When the stables come into view, still lit by multiple lanterns and humming with life, stablehands settling the horses for the night, Diluc pauses. “Did you bring the carriage?” he asks.

You shake your head. “I didn’t want the fuss,” you say. “It seemed easier to just ride.”

He nods before guiding you into the stables. Your horse—Sunsettia, if he’s remembering correctly— is stabled next to Daybreak; he slips into her stall and starts to tack her up for you. He smoothes a hand over the mare’s flank before he tightens the saddle. Her tail flicks and he pets her again.

When he steps out of the stall, you’re nowhere to be found.

Then Daybreak nickers inside her stall. Diluc glances into it and blinks. She’s perfectly saddled, nudging against you in a quest for apples or some other treat. You meet his gaze over the stall’s edge. You smile, a crescent moon curve. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says.

You tilt your head. “Neither did you.” 

He huffs but inclines his head to you. Your smile softens, the edges of it smoothing into something sweeter. You slip out of Daybreak’s stall and take Sunsettia’s reins instead, leading the mare outside and calling out a quiet goodbye to the hovering stablehand.

Diluc leads Daybreak out of her own stall and presses his face into her flank for a breath, then he follows you.

It’s a long ride home.

—

“Master Diluc.”

“Yes, Adelinde?” he asks, not looking up from the document he’s reading. He flips to the next page, mouthing along with the numbers as he does, sketching them down on a scrap piece of a paper. 

She clears her throat. 

He pauses. He sets down the paper and glances up at her. She smoothes down her skirt and his brow furrows. Whatever she’s come to tell him, he won’t like it.

She meets his gaze steadily, her shrewd eyes gone to seaglass in the morning light. “Your wife is preparing to leave,” she says.

“I’ll be down in a moment.”

“She is insistent on not taking any personnel from the winery.” 

“She needs to take at least an attendant with her.”

“She has one, she says.”

“One of ours, Adelinde.”

“I understand,” she says. “She disagrees. Quite strongly.”

Diluc pushes to his feet. “I’ll convince her.”

Adelinde studies him for a moment, her green eyes flickering, all St. Elmo’s fire. “If I may, sir,” she says, “I’m not sure that you can.” 

He pauses. “That I can? Or that I should?”

Her eyes soften; her mouth curls into something tender, a still-healing bruise. 

“Both,” she says.

He sighs. “I’ll take it under consideration, Adelinde. Is there anything else?”

“That’s all.” 

Diluc inclines his head to her before he strides from the room. He makes his way to your room, but there are only servants in there, stripping down the bed and throwing open the bay windows to air it out. He moves on to the rest of the winery, but it’s not until he steps out into the warm glow of the mid-morning sun that he finally finds you.

You’re petting one of the winery’s ratters, stroking along its head and laughing when it tries to lick you. The dog is a beautiful one, sleek-bodied with short-cropped fur the color of burnished copper coins. It sees him coming and pulls away from you, trotting up to him instead and nudging its head against his gloved hand. Diluc obliges, skating his fingers behind the dog’s ears and scratching.

“Yours?” you ask, standing from your crouch. 

He shakes his head. “One of the workers’,” he says.

“I suppose I can’t take it with me, then.”

“No,” he says. “But you can take one of the attendants with you.”

You sigh. “I already told Adelinde that I have no need of another one.”

“It’s different now,” he says. “You’re a Ragnvindr.”

You raise a brow. “I assure you, my current attendant meets Ragnvindr standards, despite what you may think.”

“My staff is vetted.”

“So is mine.”

“It’s—”

“This isn’t up for debate, Diluc.”

He’s about to argue when a whistle rings out, long and low and fluting, and the dog’s ears perk up. It arrows off into the distance, pausing only to snap at a crystalfly that had fluttered a bit too low. The two of you watch it go.

When Diluc glances at you again, you’re already watching him. You’re unreadable, a new moon’s outline in the velvet sky, and he sets his jaw.

“Alright,” you say. “If I accept your attendant when I’m in Mondstadt, will that pacify you?”

He frowns. It doesn’t get him what he needs—one of his people in your office—but it’s a start. “I’d prefer that you take them with you to Liyue.” 

You study him for a moment. Your eyes are knife-sharp and slip beneath his skin, but Diluc is used to being sized up by worse opponents.

“Very well,” you say, sighing lightly. “I’ll take them with me to Liyue.”

He blinks, startled by the sudden capitulation, but he recovers quickly. “Thank you.”

You hum as he beckons to a nearby worker, sending them into the winery to alert the attendant he’d picked out. It takes a bit to sort everything out, but you’re ready for departure in a timely manner. Diluc approaches you at the carriage’s side and clears his throat.. 

“You are prepared?” he asks.

“I am.”

“Shall I?”

You nod and he hands you up into the carriage, where your new attendant is waiting. You settle into the seat gracefully before glancing at him once more.

“Thank you,” you say. “For your hospitality.”

He shakes his head. “It is your home too, now,” he reminds you. 

“Still.”

Silence descends, pulled taut like a harpstring. It’s broken by the driver’s arrival. 

“Safe travels,” Diluc says, a little bit stiff. “Send word when you arrive.” 

Something crosses your face, a lightning-strike expression. It’s too fast for him to parse. 

“I will,” you say. “Goodbye, Diluc.”

“Farewell,” he says as the driver closes the carriage door. Your eyes are the last thing  he sees, gleaming in the morning light. Then the driver is up on their post and clicking the horses into movement down the road. 

He watches until the carriage is out of sight. Then he turns around and heads back into the winery.

Somehow, it feels a little emptier inside.

[fawnsflowerbed]

leon x pregnant reader 🥹 you can choose the plot. just fluffy smut or just a fluffy fic. i love your leon writings

Thank you my love!! AlsO UGHHH YES THIS IS ADORABLE I LOVE IT!!!

Leon always wanted that classic white picket fence life with a loving spouse and a child. A perfect little life to call his own. Now that you’re well into your pregnancy, he feels the need to express just how much he loves you.

Warnings/content: Fem reader, 2nd person (you/yours), RE6 Leon, domestic bliss vibe, BIG OL’ FLUFFBALL!!

Word count: 2,400 (est)

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

⊱ ━━━━━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━━━━━ ⊰

All of those stories about motherhood being a blessing, glowing experience where you get to connect with yourself and your child on a cosmic level? 

Absolute bullshit. You were due in about 14 weeks and wanted this thing out. Did you love them? 100 percent. That didn’t mean you didn’t miss the days where leaning down didn’t feel like you were being stabbed in every muscle imaginable, or when you could actually sleep. Not to mention some days you marvelled at how a life was about to be brought into the world thanks to you and others you sat crying in Leon’s arms about how fat you were because you’d easily outgrown all of your clothes and some shoes thanks to the swelling. Hormones. Hormones were the devil.

But it was true, you found yourself running your hand over the rather firm skin of your belly in the sun streaming through the kitchen window, trying to ignore the ache in your feet whilst you stood in front of the sink. You could somewhat feel it, that bliss and awe of knowing there was a life growing inside of you. One that you’d made. No matter how sore you were, no matter how big your belly, you refused to be helpless. So you stood, glass in hand over hot soapy water. You gave it a final wipe down before setting it in the drying rack. Next you moved onto a plate.

“Excuse me miss, but you should be laying down.”

Leon’s voice had you turning to see him enter the kitchen, fresh from work but ever so happy despite his busy schedule. He’d been that way ever since you’d found out about your little one, a beacon of light and domestic joy. You hadn’t seen him this happy in a while, although there were a few occasions where he seemed this joyful; the afternoon he asked you out, the night he proposed, your wedding day, when you announced your pregnancy to him. He was happy around you, but positively ecstatic at those times.

“We’re lucky I’m even doing this without rushing to the bathroom again.” You scoffed.

His hands were resting under the weight of your swollen stomach, lifting up slightly to take some of the pressure off of your back. You had those pregnancy books to thank, Leon had studied those things like they were a mission briefing. He wanted to be fully prepared for up until the baby arrived, and that included keeping his beloved wife as comfortable as possible.

You groaned out with a creased brow of relief, lulling your head back against his shoulder. “God, that's so much better. Also I’m already on Kennedy house arrest, might as well keep myself busy while you’re gone.” 

He nuzzled his nose affectionately into the side of your face, pressing a kiss to your jaw. “Yeah well I won’t be gone anymore. I’m talking to the board about family leave, considering the fact that junior is giving you hell.”

You frowned at him. “Baby, I'm not due for another three months.”

“First off, doctor said it’s actually 14 weeks.”

That earned him an eye roll. “Same thing, smartass.”

“Second, better safe than sorry. You’re still prone to swelling, and we’re more than comfortable money wise.” 

“How can I not be safe when I’m walking around with a husband for an ankle monitor?”

A grin crept up his face with a slight shrug, ensuring not to disturb you nestled into his shoulder. “At least I’m a handsome one.”

True, the morning sickness was a pain in the ass, stomach, throat and mouth and half the time the smell of certain things like citrus had you rushing to the toilet to throw your guts up, but god if you didn’t love moments like these. Where all you had to focus on was each other and the life you were building together, despite the world constantly trying to fall out from under your feet. This sense of normality amongst the chaos of Leon’s career and the strain it put on your lives that you both powered through, fighting for one another. And now you were both willing to fight for your child and the home you’d spent so much time working for.

With gentle hands he slowly lowered your belly back down much to your dismay, gaining him a disappointed moan as you felt the weight of your unborn baby drag you back down. He then reached around you to take the dish from your hand. Unwillingly you let him.

“Alright, off you go. Rest up on the couch.”

“I’m pregnant, not made of glass.” You grumbled. 

A sweet kiss to the cheek was the closest thing to an apology you got for his statement. “Well you might as well be. I love you sweetheart, but you’ve always been accident prone, pregnant or not.” He took a step back to allow you to slip out of his arms. “Go on now.”

So you did just that, taking your step by step waddle away from the sink and into the doorway of the living room. But not before calling back to Leon.

“Alright, but I’m still cooking dinner! You aren’t allowed near that stove!”

You could hear him huffing from where you stood. “You burn water once, I swear.” He turned his head into the living room for you to hear. “And you aren’t any better, your tastes have gotten weird.”

You couldn’t help but scowl playfully, shouting back. “It’s called cravings! Complain about it when you’ve got a 7 something kilogram bowling ball using your organs as a pillow!”

You were now making some kind of attempt to take a nap but god only knows that was impossible when your child was swimming olympic laps through your uterus and making a very rough effort to barge at your pelvis.

It was time for some mama to baby talk. You pressed both hands to your stomach, whispering down at your unborn baby.

“Listen here, kid. You’re gonna get the shit loved out of you when you get out of me, so how about cutting your mum some slack for now, yeah? Might even score you a puppy.”

“Are you making empty promises because Tiny’s putting stress on you?” Clearly finished with your job and likely planning to order something for dinner, Leon came in to see you talking down at your swollen belly.

“Not like they’ve been using my bladder as a trampoline since forever. Oh, and playing hide and seek around my goddamn ribcage. Perks of their daddy being a government agent, your stupid strength must be hereditary.”

He gave you a shit-eating smile, taking a knee down next to you as you stayed laying on the sofa. “I’m flattered. Means they’ll be a worthy crash tackle competitor.”

Another frown. “You crash tackle our child in the house and I’m putting you in time out.”

“Yowch. Got it.”

Once again you felt the short-lived embrace of domestic bliss, both of you staring intently at the roundness of your body thanks to the life growing inside of you. But something was still eating away at you.

You took his hand in yours to catch his attention. Leon turned to look at you, now seeing the concern on your face.“You’re not- scared, are you? Or is that just me?”

His light chuckle hit your ears as a sign of comfort. “Oh honey I’m petrified. This is scarier than anything I’ve ever done. But I know it’ll be worth it.”

You ran your thumb across his knuckles. “We both waited long enough for this.”

“God, if that ain’t the truth.” He swallowed, eyes looking down for a moment before he looked back up into yours. This time with a touch of sadness and longing. “I never- I never thought I’d get to have a family after everything that happened. After being strung along by my job day after day I thought I’d never have that life I always dreamed of having. But then I found you.”

A loving squeeze to his hand in return to his loving nature, followed by your own joke to lift him back up. “Yeah and your swimmer found the egg, asshole.”

Just as you planned he was smiling, leaning up and over to kiss at your forehead. “Grouch all you want, sweetheart. You’re allowed to, considering the fact that you’ve been carrying around an extra tiny human.” Then his hand was leaving yours to rest on your belly. “I just- I love you so much, and if this baby is anything like you then I’m confident we’ll be okay.”

You’d marry this man for a thousand lifetimes if you could. Leon had been nothing short of a saint to you ever since you’d met, and the glow of dating turning into marriage and then parenthood had made your bond stronger than ever.

Maybe it was from seeing you talking to them or maybe it was that fatherly instinct but Leon was now craning his neck down to start talking at your stomach.

“Don’t you go being too much like your papa, okay? You can take my rugged looks and cunning wit, and definitely my humour. But you’re gonna have your mama's heart. And hopefully her laugh.” He turned to you for a second. “Man, can you imagine if they have your laugh?” Now back to the baby. “You just wait until you can hear it properly, junior. Your mother has the most amazing laugh.”

You shrugged through sore shoulders. “It’s not that great.”

Your husband was quick to disagree. “I’m sure the baby thinks otherwise.”

“Well-”

And then there it was. A hard budge to the swollen shell of your stomach, right next to Leon’s hand as if reaching out at him. 

The first full forced movement. 

You both instantly looked at each other in awe despite your obvious discomfort.

Leon stumbled for a moment. “Holy shit, did-”

“That was a kick. The baby kicked.”

If you thought he was smiling before this he was now positively beaming with pride, drawn right back down to your child. “A kick. That was a kick! It’s like she hears me, oh my god.”

You quirked an eyebrow at him. “I’m sorry, she?”

“I’ve got a knack for these things, your cravings gave it away.”

“Okay the fact that I wanted strawberries and cheese does not prove your theory, that’s a myth. They just made it look really good in Ratatouille.”

“Yes, and our daughter made you so emotional you cried when Remy got kicked out of the kitchen but that’s besides the point.” His ear was pressed right up against you, head tilted slightly against your tummy to speak against your skin to the baby in a soft voice. “Hey baby girl, do you hear me? You hear your daddy?”

Another swift kick, one that had you resting your own hand on your stomach with squinted eyes. Yup, strong like their dad. But you didn’t want to complain too much, not when Leon sat with his eyes wide and teary in absolute delight and awe. With two large hands cradling either side of your belly and an ear up to your skin almost in disbelief. The joys of fatherhood were hitting him all at once and it was nothing short of beautiful to witness.

“It’s like I can hear her heartbeat. There’s- that’s our baby. That’s our baby in there.” He was saying it quietly, as if to himself out of shock of the life inside of you.

“Lee, you’re crying.” You acknowledged with a saddened tone, wiping a stray tear from under your husband’s eye without even acknowledging your own thanks to your rushing hormones. “Honey, are you okay?”

No response, not yet anyway. He was still too busy memorising the way your child was responding to him. When the haze lessened just a smidge, Leon leaned up to rest his forehead against yours, a wide smile on his face as he spoke in a hushed whisper.

“I’m just so happy.”

Your heart could’ve broken right then and there. All Leon ever dreamt about was a family, ever since before Raccoon City. And he thought that dream was lost forever along with the place he’d sworn to protect on that day, but now it was your shared reality. He was about to have a baby with the love of his life, and he couldn’t be more thankful.

“Thank you, love. Thank you.”

You smiled right back, a smile short lived as you groaned out in pain, feeling the baby barging up against your bladder. That was your warning. “Oh yeah we gotta move. Bathroom.”

He shook his head slightly with a light-hearted scoff, blinking back up his tears. “On it.”

That was the cue for him to shift so you could waddle your way on sore feet to the bathroom, somewhat of a ritual at this point. If you weren’t overwhelmed with emotions or begging the baby to let you sleep, you were peeing. Leon stood outside the toilet as you finished up, leaning against the wall as you continued your conversation.

“I’m gonna hate you when this thing comes out.” You called out from the bathroom while drying off your hands, your voice echoing off the tiles before coming back out to join him.

Leon seemed to be the one glowing throughout your pregnancy, and he was showing it off right now in the way he stared at you like you were the most heavenly thing to walk the earth. He found you beautiful before you were pregnant, the most beautiful person in the world, but seeing you bearing his child just made you so much more gorgeous to him. “I’ve been warned of labour hate, I’m ready for it and the thousands of swear words.” He leaned down to press a kiss to your lips, settled against the wall with his hands on your hips. “I love you, sweetheart. I love you so much that you have no idea. Thank you, for all of this. For letting me have you. You and our tiny.”

“We love you too, Lee. But get me pregnant again and I’ll have you neutered.”

[crying-fantasies]

Wet and messy

Masterlist

Featuring G1! Bluestreak, smut/fluff/humor, CW: Bluestreak is a goofball and a fluffball, slight dubcon (he’s drunk), heavy petting, licking (gotta keep that mouth busy), oral, lube consumption.

It was just another good night cycle on the Autobot city, it was so nice to just lay down with a good old-fashioned book in hand, a cup ready to go the moment you a sip, low lights, and cozy warmth, nothing could ruin the relaxed atmosphere.

It is for that very same reason that you can hear the distant sound, it’s a voice, a very distant one that is soon approaching, very said voice is saying something along the lines of earth's minerals and whatnot, you would recognize that pretty deep tone laced with that gentle baritone, talking so highly of some piece of carbon.

That's your Bluey, alright.

And it gives you a sense of “I was right” when Smokey knocks on the door before opening and revealing a smiley Blue perched on the right shoulder armor of the other praxian, “Could you please shut up your chatterbox?”, smiling you only pat at your side in the berth, Bluestreak chants “my sweetspark!” with long and stretched vocalization.

“Did he…?”

“Consume high grade? Worse, someone gave him nightmare fuel by mistake, and he hasn't stopped talking since then, well, more than usual”, he gives a pat somewhere in the center of Bluestreak's door wings, which rise for a moment before he lays out cold on the mattress, “there we go, all nice and set for a full night cycle of recharge, sorry for the interruption”, Smokescreen leaves shortly after, leaving a now mumbling Blue next to you, he is still moving, trying to cuddle still with closed optics, among all his gibberish you can recognize your name, promptly sighing, leaving the book and cup at the nightstand, soon taking a seat at his open servo, it seems like the sensation is enough to make him open his optics.

“Dearest”, his words are still dragging over the edge of recharge and consciousness, optics barely active as he snuggles the mattress over the berth, he exhales some over the pillow.

It should be criminal, how pretty he is.

But no amount of pretty boy propaganda will allow his digits to trespass the waistband of your pajamas, “wow, no”, his chevron pushes against the soft pillow, looking at the nightstand, pleading with big blue eyes, “No, no, you're wasted, and it's messy enough when we-”

His digits took your chin in between them with such ease, so gently, his faceplate is angled just right to give you no more puppy eyes but half-lidded optics, burning eyes brighter by the way his faceplate darkened by the position.

Damn, cursed praxians for their pretty chevrons, condemn them for their pretty almond-shaped blue optics, curse them for being so good at negotiation, “Okay, okay!”, his digits let you go, a happy and innocent smile that shouldn't have anything to do with the current situation is shown, “I swear, since we went to Hedonia you can't stop to do such things”.

Hedonia, oh Hedonia, such a pretty place, a nice planet to have some vacations.

The problem was that Hedonia didn't have such limits, and you pushed those limits to a place where no one would care for who you were or from where you came. Bluestreak only got caught in the middle of your limitless taste of indecency before returning to Earth. You found new things about yourself, and he did, too.

Of the few things you both bought from Hedonia a pretty pink bottle with consumable gel was present, personal order, sticky, sweet with a tint of acid lemon, lime-based but with energon flavor, the alien owner looked at you both funny, who seemed to be a common couple of young organics asking for a very detailed order after coming out of the lube salon, and just charged you the price while shrugging his two pairs of shoulders, “it can be dissolved in water, no contaminants, animal friendly, still, I recommend you to try it now to assure you don't have a bad reaction, but I doubt it, our products are top tier”, he was telling the truth, satisfied when it didn't do any damage at your skin, but snickering good-naturedly when Bluestreak couldn't stop and gave a long lick over the pink stripe over your palm, his holoform’s earings clicking against his headphones when he just went for it, “you two youngsters go have fun already! Remember to be safe!”

It was a nice vacation, and it was painful to get back to Earth where your habsuit was the only place safe to keep on the newfound kink of your boyfriend, the same boyfriend urging you to get the gel back from the nightstand, “alright I got it, just give me a minute to take my clothes off”

“Why though?”, his digit is drawing nonsense on the fabric over your belly, just shy of touching your chest, “you will look pretty anyways”.

This guy…

“You know what? Fine!”, the bottle opens with a pop, and realization down on you as the slime-like plaster comes out with some chunky pieces in between over your pajamas, “agh! I didn't shake it, is this expired? Does this expire?”

Bluestreak, by any means, seems happier by the added textures of the chunks when his glossa and digits go over your now tainted clothes, “I don't mind”, his voice rumbles, drunk sneaky bot directing the flow of his words into his derma and glossa, resonating into you before he settles for a moment to kiss you, it takes a lot of will power to stop him and escape his hungry mouth, “Wait! We must put the sealant in your joints before we keep on!”, he whimpers, saying how unfair it is, but you only have to remind him the last time you two did it raw and he had to go with Ratchet to get out to last bits of slime.

Ratchet didn't ask many questions, but the mortification was enough to keep Bluestreak quiet for a whole cycle.

You try your damn best to apply the spray sealant over his most difficult-to-clean points, hearing him whimper and even catching on the way his hips rutted over the mattress, telling you to “hurry up” with a “pretty please” at the end, he keeps groping and finally catching one of your legs when his left hand is ready to go moving his whole frame without interrupting you, next thing you know there is a little something doing pressure over your sex from behind, making you stumble over and almost dropping the spray.

“Blue”, he isn't mass-displaced, meaning his glossa is as big as your torso, but the tip of it is big enough to press just right over your clothes and the slime, his pushes gain more urgency, catching into the best place to earn a nervous response, arching your back due to the sudden gasp leaving you, holding onto his chevron in time to not fall over, bad decision, he just takes the opportunity to keep on, “Blue, wait-”

“But you look so good”, his optics are still half open, and he has the perfect view of his glossa pressing your pants in the middle, all your ass messed up with the lube, clenching over your frail body, so wet, so hot, “so pretty”.

“Just work with me, please”, you still hold to his chevron for dear life, putting the spray over his last digit, but he makes it so hard.

I'm so sorry Ratch, “Okay! Done!”

Your words are the last coherent words to be said before he finally drags you down and over his spike, the sensation of the wet clothes makes him moan shamelessly, he says something in his mother tongue, it shouldn't turn you on as much as it does but you only go with it, “oh yeah?” your fingers grab all the lube you can before they smear it over the head of his spike, Blue moans again, this time more timidly as he catches you looking at his faceplate, trying to hide in the pillow, still with an open optic as you start to rock your body against his spike from the underside, just in the part of the pretty latex-like components of his pretty spike, plush enough to let you press your body with less resistance than the rest of his body, “my Blue likes this?”, one leg holds onto his spike, the other is busy trying to reach his anterior node.

Once you do brush it with a finger he calls out your name again, timid like the first time, tasting it and the sensations as his optics shine, his servos still massaging you against his spike, helping you roll in constant pumping, pulsing with every move, condensation shining over his armor and plating, it's so unfair to not be able to kiss him and let him try to quiet down his moans and groan I to your mouth.

It would have to wait, there is always a next time, especially in the way he is so lost in the sensation of the lube, showing a more open Bluestreak, one you love equally as any part of him.

You love these reactions, the raw feelings he gets out of it, how undone he ends, strangling his vocalizer to let you know that he loves it all even when his reactions are probed enough with his physical reactions, there is transfluid coming over the tip of his spike, but you still haven't had your fill, pouring more lube over your chest as he catches on, not able to stop the whimper to finally scoop you up to his derma and kiss you in an absolute mess.

You're only kissing, and maybe it's the fact you accept him and love his kinks as much as he does or the fact that was already ready to go over the edge, it doesn't matter, you feel as pretty as he always says you're when he comes undone with that last kiss, holding onto you with care only a lover could have.

.

Wet and messy was a real challenge, every time I tried to make it work I thought “But it would get inside his joints, or it could be bad for their health or the human's health”, it made me think and I could finally get the job done! God bless Hedonia! The only place you can find anything related to pleasure! And of course, there is Swindle but I can't see Blue asking him for something without blowing a gasket.

@tf-kinktober2024

[silent-stories]

Stolen moments- a kitten scratching at the door wakes you and Eddie up

(Eddie Munson x F!reader)

The morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow on the room. You gradually became aware of your surroundings, realizing you were still nestled in Eddie's bed. The rhythmic sounds of his steady breathing echoed the calmness of the early hours, his arm was around your waist.

As you shifted, delicately moving Eddie's arm that securely cradled you, you couldn't help but marvel at the peacefulness that adorned his features. His dark hair tousled in a carefree manner, and a faint hint of a smile played on his lips as he slept soundly.

Sat on the edge of his bed, you took a moment to absorb the serenity of the scene. The room held an intimate stillness, broken only by the muted sounds of the waking world beyond the window.

Gazing at Eddie, your heart swelled with affection. The vulnerability of his slumber contrasted with the strength and determination he displayed during waking hours. There was a sense of gratitude for having this time, just you and him, before the demands of the day took hold.

You traced a gentle path with your fingers along his arm, on the bats tattooed on it, reveling in the warmth he emanated.

Eddie's drowsy gaze met yours, a soft chuckle escaping his lips as he noticed you watching him. The sight of you, bathed in the soft morning light, filled his heart with warmth.

A sleepy smile graced his features, and in that raspy, endearing morning voice, he reached out, gently tugging at your hand. "Morning, sweetheart," he murmured, his eyes still adjusting to the day. "Come back to bed, it's too early to be up."

His invitation was more than a request to return to the warmth of the covers and it carried a silent plea. Eddie patted the space beside him, inviting you back into the comfort of the bed with an unspoken promise of lazy morning cuddles.

You couldn't help but smile at his adorable persistence. With a playful glint in your eyes, you obliged, sliding back under the covers, nestling into the familiar curve of his side. As you settled against him, a shared sense of contentment enveloped both of you, cherishing the stolen moments of peace before the day's responsibilities beckoned.

As the two of you nestled back into the warmth of the bed, a gentle lull began to pull you toward the edges of sleep. Just as you were about to fall asleep again, a faint sound, almost like a scratch, caught your attention, teasing you from the edges of consciousness.

Furrowing your brow, you stirred slightly and asked Eddie, "Did you hear that?" His eyes, heavy with sleep, blinked open, and he mumbled in a half-asleep state, "Hear what, babe? I know you're just trying to get out of bed."

You chuckled softly, reassured by his dismissive response. Yet, the noise persisted, a subtle disturbance that refused to be ignored. Ignoring Eddie's playful protestations, you decided to investigate, curious to uncover the source of the mysterious sound.

With a chuckle and a soft pat on Eddie's shoulder, you assured him, "I won't be long, just a moment." His playful whine accompanied your departure as you slipped out of the bed, leaving him in a mock state of disbelief.

You walked down the hallway of the trailer, arriving at the source of the sound that lingered.

As you opened the door, a sliver of morning light cascaded into the trailer, illuminating a sight that both surprised and delighted you—a tiny, orange fluffball, a stray kitten, eagerly pawing at the threshold. The vulnerability in its big, round eyes tugged at your heartstrings, reminding you of Eddie's fondness for strays.

You knew that Eddie often left scraps for cats without families in that area and maybe that cat did too.

The cat meowed as if complaining that you hadn't let it in yet, then it ran between your legs and into the trailer.

You chuckled, closing the door and following the cat. You rummaged through the cabinets, finding a small bowl, filling it with food and leaving it on the floor. The kitten, now eagerly munching away, seemed grateful for the unexpected meal.

The subtle sounds of footsteps muffled by the socks he was wearing, caught your attention as you turned, just in time to witness Eddie's arrival. Disheveled yet utterly endearing, he ambled into the room with his usual messy bed hair, clad in a worn Metallica shirt.

With a half-asleep grin, he surveyed the scene. His still sleepy eyes, widened in mock surprise at the sight of the kitten happily munching on the food you'd provided. "You little shit stole my girlfriend," he teased, pointing a playful finger at the feline, his tone filled with feigned indignation.

As he made his way closer, his gaze shifted to the nearly empty tuna can on the counter. A mock gasp escaped him, followed by a melodramatic sigh. "And my food too," he added, a mix of amusement and faux annoyance lacing his words as he chuckled, clearly more entertained than genuinely upset.

Closing the distance between you and Eddie, you couldn't help but be drawn to the charming disarray of his morning appearance. With a soft chuckle, you pressed a gentle kiss on his cheek.

"I still like you more, if that makes you feel better," you playfully remarked, your words carrying a mixture of jest and sincere affection. Eddie's eyes crinkled at the corners, his grin widening as he let out a soft laugh, and his arm instinctively found its way around you.

With the stray kitten happily enjoying its impromptu breakfast and the morning sun casting a golden hue across the kitchen, you and Eddie found yourselves wrapped in a serene moment of shared contentment.

Eddie's arm remained around your waist, holding you close as he leaned in for a soft, lingering kiss on your forehead. "Thanks for looking after my food thief," he said with a playful glint in his eyes, the hint of a smirk playing on his lips.

You smiled up at him, feeling the warmth of his affection, and replied, "Anytime, especially for you and your furry accomplices." The gentle laughter that followed filled the room, a melodic harmony blending seamlessly with the morning tranquility.

As the morning continued to unfold, you and Eddie relished the peaceful moments together, knowing that amidst life's chaos, these simple mornings would always be cherished—the stolen moments, the playful banter, and the shared love for each other -and cats.

[poptartcari]

Decided to make my contribution to @cuppajj Neo Beast AU by making a haetae for Frigid Cacao Cookie. I would like to clarify that this isn’t canon to the AU’s storyline, nor is this Haetae the same as Cloud (think of it as the dragon cookies where there’s multiple of them). But anyways, this is Frosty Haetae Cookie, guardian of the Frigid Cacao Kingdom! Despite being a sentient fluffball, Frosty Haetae’s personality is anything but soft! Much like their Lord, Frosty is a stern haetae who takes their job as the kingdom’s judge and executioner very seriously and can be ruthless during punishments. After all, hearing about crimes against the Cacao Kingdom isn’t something to take light on, the suspect might even get a stab from Frosty’s horn if they’re guilty. Word of advice: if you’re being judged by Frosty Haetae Cookie, never lie to them, they HATE liars.

[katmaibearfan]

the 273s! i mostly identify them by the smaller light grey cub. what fluffballs!

[panareczek]

Madaparty theme 4 - Angst

And even when I'm all alone, I won't change, this is not my world....

Ok so I'm not very good with angsting, because I'm quite picky with the media I choose to angst (and mada franchise isn't one of them unfortunately) BUT I'LL TRY

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hans always felt a lonesome regret while thinking about what happened in Denmark, and never quite knew why. That was the plan right? Make Skipper the traitor to the state, get his meed and never think about that again. But what if it all went differently? He lived through so much with his penguin companion, was it all for nothing?

The little puffin stood at the old train platform, staring at the faces of bypassers rushing on about their days. Some time ago, he used to come here with Skipper to eat the most delicious ice cream he's ever had - were they that good because the penguin always knew the best snack spots, or the lovely companion made them delicious? With every passing minute, the passerbys started to blur, their figures shifting into the one he betrayed - the little hatchling who hasn't even molted yet, was looking at him with eyes full of hope - hans, as a danish citizen, would give him a tour around the city - that was their first shared memory. How could he do this to this little fluffball?

Everything started to blur even more - all the shared conversations, little gestures, celebrated birthdays, Christmas evenings and Easter mornings - laughs and cries they had together. Hans was struggling to see through his dark glasses - he had to wear them due to the light flash he saw at the embassy - but this wasn't due to his eye damage. He felt a small tear pooling up in his eyecorner, while all the voices and images flashed before his eyes. He thought about what can he do to fix it, tell him that it was a mistake? Get him a huge bouquet of flowers, bake him his extra special danish pastries, write him a poem, kill all the Danes-

Then he saw it.

The look on the face of that little penguin, the moment he learned his best friend just sold him out. Eyes full of shock and thorough sadness, were looking at him, asking just one question.

"How could you?"

Everything stopped. Hans thought he knew the answer, but after further thinking, he didn't. How could he?

But after looking at these eyes, at these sad, lonely eyes, he knew something else.

He will never fix this, even if he tries. He'll always be a traitor.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

For the song - I feel like it's a go-to sad song for the young Polish people. It's called "Długość dźwięku samotności" - "A length of the sound of loneliness" by Myslovitz and it's about never changing and hiding one's true self, because that's what we chosen and we have to always fit into society's standards.

Spotify link today, because it doesn't have a music video >w<

REFERENCE IMAGE

[descendant-of-truth]

This shot just reminded me of a scene from my own fanfic (a comedic retelling of SA2 from Shadow's perspective), so I felt it would be criminal not to post it here:

So there he was, at the harbor of what looked like a city, sopping wet and trying to stay out of sight. Not an easy task, despite how many things there were to hide behind - there were people everywhere, easily more than he had ever seen at once. He had hoped that the darkness would grant him some invisibility, but there were lights stationed everywhere here, too. Some of the people gave him odd looks as he passed by, most likely due to being soaked, but Shadow refused to shake the water out in front of other people. He’d rather he looked like he just swam across the sea than like an unkempt fluffball. “Hey dude, need a towel?” It took all the composure Shadow had to not reflexively smack whoever just spoke to him, but he still turned around sharper than was strictly necessary. A human towered over him (as humans tended to), holding out a towel in one hand and a beverage in the other. But most importantly, they were wearing a jacket that Shadow didn’t realize he wanted until just now. It was a cropped, sleeveless black one with studded diamonds on it. This was so unfair. Here he was, faced with the coolest jacket he had ever seen, and he couldn’t even steal it because it was about five sizes too big. “Buddy? You gonna take the towel? You must be freezing,” the human spoke again, snapping Shadow out of his thoughts. “…No,” he replied after a moment. “I prefer to… absorb the water. Like a houseplant.” “Dang, for real? Alright then, have fun with that.” “I won’t. Goodbye.” Shadow promptly turned around and ran in the other direction.

So anyway, if Shadow has any awkward interactions with a random civilian in the movie scene I'm just gonna say I called it

[ferallove-for-tx2]

Hantengu Clones x Reader Jealousy

ℛℰ𝒬𝒰ℰ𝒮𝒯ℰ𝒟

𝐔𝐫𝐨𝐠𝐢

You had recently got a pet bunny and there was never a second where you were away from it. The bunny was fluffy, chubby, and had big long floppy ears. His fur was white and had little swirls of brown so you named him Marshmallow. You would carry him around everywhere you went while peppering him in kisses. Urogi noticed your attachment to your new companion and thought it was adorable at first but then he noticed that you were a little too attached. 

He would often hear you talking in a high pitched voice saying things like, “Aww you are the cutest thing in the world!” Or “who’s the bestest and cutest friend? You are!” He would also see you playing with the bunny’s ears or even squishing the face of the bunny. He soon began experiencing an anger towards the bunny, that bunny was taking all of your love and affection away from him and he was getting sick of it.

“Y/n, you can spend one day without that thing.”

“Nooo, look at how cute Marshmallow is, how could I leave such an adorable fluff ball all alone?”

You cooed while gently scratching behind Marshmallow’s ears. Urogi felt his eye twitch twice and he took a deep breath to compose himself.

“You can leave it for one day to spend time with me.”

He said and wrapped a wing around you to pull you away from the pillow that Marshmallow was laying on. 

“H-hey!”

You wrestled your way out of his grip to go back to your bunny who now looked like a loaf of bread due to the way he was sitting. You gushed at the absolute cuteness and began to play with the ears again while Urogi watched you and shot a glare at the bunny. That ‘fluffball’ was an actual demon he thought to himself. 

“Hmpf, if you don’t give me attention, I will-“

He didn’t know what he would do, he didn’t want to hurt you physically or mentally but he also wanted to give you a choice in which you would end up spending time with him.

“Ooo is someone jealous~”

You said with a smirk and he stuttered a bit before shaking his head and refusing to look you in the eyes.

“Pfft, why would I be jealous of a bunny that is taking all of your attention for itself?”

He faked a laugh and you didn’t buy his words for a second. You took the bunny in one arm before wrapping your other arm around Urogi.

“Sure sure…you know, I can spoil you both in affection.”

He sighed before hugging you back, this was fine, but he still held a grudge against that bunny…

𝐊𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐤𝐮

You and Karaku were stargazing when he heard something moving in the bushes and was prepared to fight off whatever it was but then a tiny cardinal hopped out of the bushes. It’s feathers were ruffled up a bit and its leg appeared to be broken and it let out a weak chirping sound.

“Aww poor thing, who or what would do this to such a beautiful and small bird?”

You asked no one in particular as you gently cupped the bird in your hands.

“I don’t know but put that thing down, what if it has a disease?”

Karaku said, a little annoyed at the fact that it interrupted your date. You gently stroked the cardinal's head with one finger and it snuggled up to your warmth which made you gush.

“Awww, it’s so cute! I’m going to name you Cherry!”

“You’re naming it?!”

“Duh, we’re keeping it, we can’t leave it all alone in the woods, what if something eats it?”

“It’s the circle of life.”

“Karaku!”

You ended up taking Cherry to your home while Karaku reluctantly helped you find supplies to tend to the cardinal. Once a small bandage was carefully wrapped around Cherry’s leg and it had a warm bath, he snuggled up in your palms which made you stare at it in awe. 

“Does that thing have a spell on you or something?”

Karaku asked, jealousy beginning to consume him, he should be the one who has all of your attention.

“You probably have one on you since you can’t see how cute and adorable this little guy is!”

You said and placed a light kiss on the top of Cherry’s head. That completely shattered any self composure that Karaku had left.

“That’s it! We are going to get rid of this bird right here, right now!”

“No we are not! What if I found you injured in the woods, would you want me to leave you?”

He hadn’t thought of it like that, he certainly wouldn’t want to be left alone with a broken leg, he sighed heavily before he agreed.

“Fine…we can keep it, ON THE CONDITION that you don’t give it all of your affection.”

𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐭𝐬𝐮

You were sitting on the couch reading while waiting for Aizetsu to get back from his walk. You then heard the door open and got up to go greet him when the sound of a soft meow was heard. As you turned the corner, you saw a tiny orange kitten snuggled in Aizetsu’s arms.

“Y/n, I-I hope this doesn’t upset you but I found a kitten outside and was wondering if you would like to-“

“Oh my gosh it’s so cute!”

You ran to the kitten and began scratching behind its ears and it started purring. Aizetsu let out a sigh of relief, he was thankful that you weren't mad at him for bringing a stray kitten home. You looked up at him with big round eyes and pleaded.

“Aizetsu, can we pleaaassseeee keep it?”

He smiled softly at you and nodded.

“Yes, that’s actually what I was going to ask-“

You took the kitten out of his arms and hugged it tight while petting it.

“I’m going to name you Pumpkin!”

You exclaimed and sat on the couch to cuddle the kitten even more and Aizetsu watched you, an odd feeling going through his body. He sat down next you you and was about to hug you when you stood up.

“We should give you a bath to get you all cleaned up!”

He watched you walk away and he felt sad that you were giving the kitten attention and affection instead of him. The whole day went on like this, whenever he tried to speak or touch you, you would not notice and keep pampering Pumpkin with the affection that Aizetsu craved.

 He was beginning to regret bringing the kitten but he saw how happy you were and decided that maybe this was temporary, maybe you would give him some attention later.While the kitten was busy eating the food you gave it, Aizetsu took this opportunity to confront you about what’s bothering him.

“Uhm,Y/n?”

“Hm?”

You hummed while not turning your head or gaze towards him.

“Do you think you can not focus on Pumpkin so much?”

“But look how cute this little guy is.”

You cooed and he sighed.

“Well, I also would like some of your attention and pampering, I feel like you care more about the kitten more than me…”

His words provoked you to turn to him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just got carried away but don’t worry, I will pay more attention to you and I promise I care a lot about you.”

He felt a smile appear on his face and he hugged you and melted into your warmth.

𝐒𝐞𝐤𝐢𝐝𝐨

He already despised the idea of a pet running around but he despised it even more when you would do nothing but spoil your new pet ferret. 

“Aww you wiggle around like a noodle!”

You cooed as you continued to knit a narrow sweater for your ferret, Finigan to slide into. Sekido glared at the creature for what seemed like an eternity and Finigan began to feel frightened and slid into the sleeve of your hoodie.

“Oh my gosh you really are too cute!”

You said, clueless to the reason as to why he was provoked to hide in your sleeve.

“Can you stop paying so much attention to that damn creature?!”

Sekido’s blood was boiling at this point, he tried to convince himself that he was not jealous of some furry noodle but he kept getting angrier and angrier at Finigan. He was your boyfriend, not Finigan so therefore he should get more attention than an animal that couldn’t even respond.

“He’s not a creature! He’s our little child.”

You said as you gazed at Finigan with so much love and adoration in your eyes. He huffed and pulled you into a tight hug.

“You can go one hour without that stupid thing.”

He grumbled as his cheeks began to heat up. You stared at him while petting Finigan when it finally hit you and you smirked.

“Is my darling Sekido jealous of little Finigan?”

He shot a glare at you before turning away to hide the fact that he was blushing. 

“S-shut up! I just don’t want this abnormally long skinny guinea pig looking creature to brainwash you.”

You laughed a bit at his reaction and wrapped an arm around him.

“Fine, fine, I’ll give both of my boys affection.”

You kissed Sekido on the cheek which flustered him even more before you gave headpats to Finigan who looked up at you and if the ferret could smile, he would.