#ear’s drabbles

[eiraeths]

soap gets sepsis from a gsw to abdomen. they’re stranded without exfil for some time, and it becomes a race to beat the ticking clock of soap’s approaching death. the team takes turns trying to keep him awake, talking to him and patting him up despite his grumbled protests. at one point gaz just asks what will make him most comfortable—thinking of hospice-like care because exfil is still so far out and soap is getting worse and worse—and soap, who’s usually too self conscious/shameful to admit how tactile he is, but with the sepsis clouding his brain, thought process several steps behind what it usually is, he just grabs gaz’s hand. from that point on whoever is with him has some point of body contact with him. ghost takes to holding soap against his chest and carding a gloved hand through soap’s sweat soaked hair.

[pixxlotl]

Going with the "Grian is the one who designed this game as opposed to the others" headcanon, it makes you think about the superpowers he gave his friends, how they were all laughing and having fun in the beginning, and that was intentional. It goes to show that even when forced to design the death game his friends are put through (a punishment for trying to usurp the Watchers time and time again), he still cares. They all know he's the one who designed this game, and he hopes they realize the little mercies he's giving them.

He gives Cleo the power to bring people back from the dead, just so he can have a chance to see his best friend again.

He gives Pearl the power to fly, and hopes she appreciates having her wings back, if only for a short time.

Jimmy gets to go invisible because Grian knows the Watchers aren't happy with the curse being broken. He wants to protect him.

As for Martyn? Grian doesn't really know a lot about what's going on with him and the Listeners, but he might as well try to strengthen that connection in the little ways he can without arising suspicion.

He says it himself in the beginning, "let's not forget this is a PVP series," but it sounds hollow even to his own ears. It's pandering to the watching eyes, making them think the lighthearted fun is all unintentional.

He falls out of the sky with the wings he gave to Pearl, and he wonders if the Watchers are starting to catch on.

[zephyrchama]

It was a lovely afternoon, and you were enjoying a lovely chat with the crown prince of the Devildom. Diavolo was glad to have a break from work, as well as an excuse not to return to it.

That is, until Barbatos appeared. The butler asked his charge to please return to the urgent matters on his desk. Break time was over.

Diavolo frowned. He did not want to work anymore. He had been diligently fulfilling his duties for a week now with no complaints. He peered at the desk, with its mountain of paperwork. He peered at Barbatos, whose smile thinly masked a threatening disposition. He peered at you, a sad and helpless expression on his face.

"We're going to have to leave our conversation here. I am so sorry," Diavolo lamented. He approached you with outstretched arms.

Thinking of a hug, you met him with equally outstretched arms. "It's okay, you can message me la-"

Anything you were about to say disappeared from your mind as Diavolo picked you up. There was resolution in his eyes. There was no going back now. In haste, he threw you at Barbatos.

The butler's cool facade broke as he scrambled to catch you in a graceful hold, cautious to minimize any damage to your body. Though, you felt his bony fingers dig into your sides as Barbatos gripped you tightly. He was furious.

Diavolo was already out the door and down the hall, looking for somewhere he could hide for at least another five minutes before returning to work. Though it was regrettable he could not spend any more time with you, this was a necessary action to distract Barbatos.

He would never forget your noble sacrifice.

[moechies]

toji 𝓍 bunnie ૮ ˃̵ ˂̵ აㅤㅤㅤ

toji who grabs his little bunnie gf by the scuff of her tail to pull her onto him.

“bunny, come sit on it.”

“ouuuch ! toji, stop it! hurts..!”

“heh, sorry bunny. c’mere.”

it happens so quickly. you had just been sprawled across the sheets, playing on your phone before you were rudely interrupted by a desperate old man, in need of some assistance.

“sit on my cock, honey. w’na feel you.”

“y-you’re so crude , toji .” you frown, but in no way do you take your time tugging off his pants. his cock springs up almost immediately , the hard shaft slapping against his tummy causing a blunt noise.

“s’ hard toji . .”

your mouth waters at the sight, holding the fat girth in the small of your hand. your hands don’t fully wrap around him, nearly an inch left of cock that gapes in between your fingers. his digits reach to pull the crotch of your panties aside, quickly pulling you directly above him, making you hover over his cock head.

“mm,” he hums, “don’t make me do it all , work yourself on it doll.” he teases, coming up to tug at your fluffy ear.

“s-stop it !” you whine, making him laugh. it’s hard to work him with no prep, the sloppy tip of his cock immediately stretching the fat folds of your cunt. it burns , but you’re soothed over by the sweet circles rubbed into your skin to pace you.

“t-too hard, why’re s’hard . . mmf—“

“y’were swayin’ yer ass all over the place. how could i not be, bunny? don’t be so naive.” he grunts, watching intently as his pudgy tip slides in and out of your chubby walls.

“i wasn’t, toji ! y-you’re such a perv!”

he laughs breathily , hoisting you above his cock before slamming you down completely. you scream and thrash at the unpreparing stretch, round tail fluttering as hairs on your fluffy ears stand.

“oh, bun.”

his fingers sneak behind your butt to fidget and tug on the fur of your tail once again, but this time, you’re too lost in a haze to pay it any mind,

“that, i am.”

[aennasan]

Imagine being so drunk that Kenji Sato’s solution to stopping you from wandering around, or accidentally breaking your neck, was to let you straddle his lap. Face to face, chest so close you can hear each other’s heartbeat, to the point that he can smell the strong alcohol on your breath.

However, he doesn't have any time to think and enjoy the feeling because despite being restrained to his lap, one of his hands holding your hips steady— you were holding your glass too loose. He was afraid that you would let it go, spill the content and hurt yourself. Yet, you refuse to give it to him, holding his injured shoulder with your free hand, restraining him, squeezing it— if so much he moves to grab your glass.

After some time of you struggling, giggling and moving your glass out of his reach, he gave up and just decided to lean back on the chair. Letting fate decide whatever.

He watched as you hummed and chugged the remaining content of your glass. Satisfied that you won. All he could do was chuckle at your antics as you stretched your body, trying to reach out for the bottle to refill your glass.

He thought you were amusing as you tried your best to fill your glass with a frown and uninterrupted focus since you claimed the bottle kept moving away when in truth it was you who were not steady.

It was all fun and games until the inevitable happened and you spilled the bottle of alcohol not on your glass but to his shirt. You were lucky that his reflexes were fast, that he was able to move you in time, and it was only your leg that was caught. He immediately grabbed hold of his shirt, lifted it up to remove it, and used it to tap and dry the sticky aftermath of your drunk clumsiness.

While Kenji was busy trying to clean you up, your eyes were not concerned with what you just did. Instead your eyes were wandering around his half naked body. Especially, your eyes boring into that toned chest of his.

You're not sure what exactly they called it— Intrusive thoughts? But you just did whatever came into your mind while looking at it.

Kenji Sato squealed like a girl in surprise when he felt your soft hands, squeezing both of his chest tightly. Not once, not twice, but squeezing until he caught both of your hands and firmly told you to stop.

You were breathing heavily, cheeks dusted in pink— your expression mirroring his, except to his wide eyes, which runs thousands of thoughts, trying to digest what you just did.

You were sure one of them, however, is not allowing you to drink this bad ever again.

read part 2: here

[megtheuntalented]

Regulus and James sit in the dimly lit kitchen, murmuring amongst themselves, when the newly-six-year-old Harry comes shuffling down the hall while cuddling his well-worn padfoot plush. The two exchange a look before James pushes his chair back, letting out a loud screech, and heads toward Harry.

"What're you still doing up, Har," James asks, while he scoops the tired kid up in his arms. Harry just flops his head onto his Da's shoulder, much to the parents' amusement. They share a secret, endeared smile over the kid's head.

"Couldn't get to sleep," comes Harry's muffled reply. He lifts his head to look beseechingly at Regulus, the sterner of the two, "Can you pleaaaaase play me a song? Pretty please?" Harry tops off his request with big puppy dog eyes and a jut lip. Behind him, James mirrors Harry's face, silently begging Regulus for a song as well.

Regulus just rolls his eyes with a smile and gets up from his chair, too. "Well, since it is your birthday, I suppose you can have one last treat."

He gently takes Harry from James, sneaking in a quick cheek kiss to his husband. Said husband just gives a goofy grin, and dashes to the living room. Regulus snorts at his antics.

Harry settles on Regulus' chest as James grabs the guitar from where it's settled by the couch. He sets himself up on their worn, red couch as Regulus sits him and Harry down on the piano bench right across from James.

Both instruments are well loved, with James' mismatched tuning pegs on his guitar, and the places where paint was beginning to rub off on Regulus' piano.

James strums a few discordant chords and turns the pegs a bit, before smiling at Regulus, who just nods back. He ruffles Harry's hair before placing his hands on the keys and making them hum.

James joins in on Regulus' melody, adding riffs and weaving through the idea Regulus puts into the air. Regulus then slows down and only plays chords while James take the lead with his guitar. They continue this conversation between instruments well into the night, far past when Harry falls asleep cuddling Regulus.

As Regulus' nimble fingers push the last key, and James' hand strums the last chord, they both sit and let their music ebb and fade away into the night.

Regulus smiles down at their snoring kid, then lifts his head to smile at his husband, who already has the softest grin folded on his face. Regulus lovingly rolls his eyes, then gathers up Harry once more, careful not to wake him.

Once he's sure he is settled, he leans down to press a kiss to James' forehead. James hums. And as Regulus slips down the hall to Harry's room, he plucks just a few more notes from his old guitar.

[lotusarchon]

may i have some husband Macaque x wife reader NSFW and SFW? *swirls hair and burps shyly*

little did she know i'm a nasty dog (macaque x reader)

content warnings: female reader, second pov (you/your), fluff, wholesome husband + wife marriage, nsfw, minors + ageless blogs DNI, macaque being himself, p in v sex, table sex, implied breeding kink

author's notes: god i hate macaque and then this is me to my friend about him (yes that real ones will know this is my genuine reaction towards a macaque edit)

Macaque's arms wrap around your sides, his chin resting on your shoulder. The gesture is affectionate―hands squeezing your hips, a low hum from a new play he's working on in your ear, and he says nothing but watch you place cookie batter on a pan.

He does think he's lucky enough to have you, someone so kind and sweet. He does think he's happy enough that he's earned someone who willingly loves him for all his flaws and all.

(Wukong would like to argue attempted murder isn't a flaw, but what he would know? He's always been a weirdo anyway.)

He likes watching you cook, though. There's something about you wearing an apron, darting back and forth in the kitchen, humming the same tune he sings with flour on your face and your hair in disarray, that paints a scenery he just loves.

But there's always something that feels like it's missing. Something that would make this scenery complete.

Macaque pulls away from behind you, allowing you to slip past and finish the rest of the cookies you're making. He leans back against the table, observing the slight swish of your skirts as you bend over and place the rest of the cookies into the oven with a satisfied smile.

He stares, and stares, for quite a long time….

And it hits him.

Oh, we don't have a little one.

“Macaque?” You glance his way, a smile he wishes to paint etched on your lips. Your face looks warm from the oven heat, and there's still some dough left on your cheek from your hurrying. “You alright there? You've been acting kinda strange lately.”

You frown, brows furrowed while approaching him. He allows you to close the distance, pressing a hand against his forehead. He finds the way you pout to be just as adorable.

“Huh. No fever…did you run into Wukong or something?”

Silently, he shakes his head, amused at your worrying. Your hand trails from his forehead to his eye, thumb caressing the scar that runs vertically under his left eye.

He hates acknowledging this scar exists, yet when your hands are the one touching it, he feels at ease. He feels happier, somewhat.

“I'm fine,” he assures you, leaning into your touch. “Truly. I was just thinking.”

“Thinking?” You tilt your head. “About?”

“You.” His hands land on your waist, pulling you flushed against his chest. Your hands play with his hair, a simple smile on your expression. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

You laugh. “Multiple times, I'm afraid.”

“Well, I'll say it again.”

He presses his forehead against yours, a lazy grin on his expression. His free hand travels south, and you playfully swat at his chest when he squeezes your ass playfully.

You shift to press a chaste kiss to his lips, and Macaque's grin widens at the corners.

On the kitchen table….

It's not the first time you've had sex in any part of your house. Macaque's always been the type to be frisky, always ready to touch and grab. You'd be lying if you said weren't the same―alas, you picked up your husband's bad habits. Wukong would naturally be pissed.

Your legs wrap around his waist, moaning against his ear. His hands dig into your skin, squeezing your thighs while he thrusts into you. His pelvis smacks against your ass, and his grunts and groans fill the air, mixing with your moans and the wet sounds that follow.

Macaque likes you like this. All sprawled out under him, clothes torn and lips swollen, body covered in bite marks and bruises made in his haste. He likes the sight of your eyes all crosseyed, your expression flushed beautifully as he fucks into you.

He bites his lip when his cock rubbing against an angle withdraws a sweet moan from your lips, and he pushes into you harder. Your walls cling to him, drawing him deeper, and he wants to sink his teeth into your neck and leave another mark there.

And he does. He presses lower to your body, his teeth breaking the skin on your neck. Your hands claw at his back, moaning deliriously as you cum around him, gasping his name like a mantra.

Macaque mumbles something under his breath. He licks the broken skin and kisses your cheek affectionately.

“We need a baby,” he murmurs in your ear, and he yanks you closer. “A little me, or you, you know? Gotta…mark you up. All f’me.”

You don't oblige him with a reply, but the way you moan and bury your head in his chest is all that he needs to turn you onto your side with a smirk.

Oh, and you need a new table in the aftermath.

@lotusarchon, 26.11.2024, all rights reserved. do not copy, repost or translate my works without permission. likes, comments and reblogs are appreciated!!

[sugurouge]

── "𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞. 𝐀𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐚."

Calm. Happy. At ease. Tamed. Words Sylus would have never chosen to describe himself with. Much rather proud, striking, confident. A creature of control, always the hunter. But it all changed the first time her fingers ran through his hair after he took his helmet off, a gentle touch laden with a gravity he hadn’t realised he was orbiting. Suddenly, his favourite ritual became picking her up on his bike just to have her fix his appearance, letting her rewrite him strand by silver strand. And he would come to return the kindness tenfold. Because the sight of her rendered him defenseless: Windblown and laughing, cheeks glowing bright under the ruby moon of the N109 zone as he ran his fingers through her tousled strands. Though it were those predatory eyes that dared him into a silent game of who would fall first that Sylus grew addicted to.

He did.

He crash landed, collided into her. By now there is a weight that settles in his chest when she isn't near, followed by a strange lightness when she is. It clings to him like a pulling force, leading him to her arms, her lap, the curve of her neck, where peace hums just beneath her skin. She became the atmosphere that holds him together. With her, he doesn't feel like he's lost anymore. He just wants to land. To rest. Home, it turns out, is a place right by her side.

Maybe he's the one who walked willingly into her trap, weightless and disarmed from the beginning, eager for her to catch him. And now that he's here, floating in this quiet euphoria of being known, Sylus admits: he would give her the whole universe if she asked.

the wild and untameable make an exception for their beloved. close proximity and touch are how animals show affection. i’ve never tried to hide them from you. my gaze, my gestures, and every single step i take toward you.

happy birthday, my beloved 🖤

art: puri24a on twitter. please don't reupload or use

[simporado]

sylus 🔞 thoughts r thunking. mdni

thinking about MC making a mess on Sylus’ thighs, his newly pressed slacks darkened with her slick.

“Sorry, I made a mess...” MC says, a look of shame on her expression.

Sylus chuckles then huffs, ‘“Sorry”? Sweetie, I should be thanking you.” he says breathlessly, voice low and deep, dripping with desire.

[eiraeths]

ghost’s family is alive but somewhere along the line ghost dies. his funeral is a bigger affair than he ever could’ve imagined. soap manages to show up despite all the threats and thoughts that he couldn’t do it. at a glimpse, soap thinks he see’s ghost again. it’s tommy. the more soap looks though, the more tonmy mirrors ghost. they have the same mannerisms and the same lopsided smile. for a moment, soap gets to see ghost again. his eternal best friend.

[generalsdiary]

hybrid cat!ratio but aventurine isn't aware how feline like he is, until a sleep deprived ratio sits beside him on the couch and rests his head on his shoulder. and purs. aventurine freezes, soft rumbling of veritas' chest soothing him, and then, if purring wasn't enough, the long purple tail curls up in his lap. aventurine wants to jump out of his skin- cuddly veritas? doctor veritas ratio purring, seeking touch? kakavasha is losing his shit by the second.

meanwhile ratio is running on three hours of sleep for a stupid reason, and he simply embraces aventurine, cuddling closer wanting more of this comfort.

the last straw is ratio nuzzling his face into the blond's neck. rubbing his cheeks, nose against the soft skin. the furry ears brushing past his jaw. purring getting louder.

aventurine is a mess, he loves it of course, nonetheless he is caught off guard. he attempts at one of his one liners, to feel out the atmosphere, "do you... also meow?" he ends up sounding like a teenage boy stuttering in front of his crush.

shivers go down his spine when ratio speaks lowly against his ear in a husky voice, "would you like to hear it?"

[zephyrchama]

Somebody nearby is swearing. It's very vulgar, even by common demon standards. You and Simeon both move at the same time to cover up Luke's ears. Your fingers brush against the back of Simeon's hand in the scramble, but you are ultimately faster at shielding Luke's innocence.

Luke sighs and pouts. "Why do you guys always do this?" he complains, louder than his normal tone. You just smile, knowing he can't hear the answer anyway. The boy crosses his arms in a huff but makes no attempt to free his ears.

The world goes quiet in the next moment as something warm slides over your ears. Simeon has found a new use for his hands. The crude shouting fades away, though you can still see the demon rampaging in your peripheral vision. "What are you doing?" you attempt to ask, hardly able to hear your own voice. Simeon looks pleased with himself as he mouths words that you can't understand. You pout in the same fashion as Luke and he chuckles.

[emmcfrxst]

Old Man Logan fawning over reader and Laura jamming out to songs on the radio whenever they go on road trips <33

much to his chagrin, little laura loves pop music; the bubblier, the better. he tries (and fails) to make her like classic rock— she’s “not interested in old man music”, she wants fun songs she can dance to with you. she giggles uncontrollably whenever you sing badly on purpose, clapping for you excitedly. logan always complains about her choice of music, being the grumpy dad he is, but you’ve caught him more than once mouthing along to the lyrics and more recently; shaking his butt slightly to it while in the kitchen— although he will deny the last part until the day he dies (which isn’t anytime soon because you live on a little farm where you grow your own food, free of the additives that are meant to weaken mutations. ever since you’ve started being self sufficient, you’ve noticed that logan heals much faster, and that his pain seems lessened a little. you only ever buy store products if one of you is having a craving; otherwise you make do with what you grow, purging your bodies of the chemicals that render you sick <3)

[rin-rin-comics]

More AU stuff

I have some panels written and coming soon

[soniclozdplove]

"It's time to move on."

Wukong stiffened, not quite believing his ears. He glanced up, red and gold eyes puffy and face streaked with tear tracks as he stared at his master. Tripitaka was not unkind in his tone of voice, but his body language indicated an impatience uncharacteristic of the monk.

"Wh-what!?" Wukong's voice croaked, cracked and dry from hours of crying and dehydration. What did he say!?

"Wukong. There's nothing else you can do. It's time we leave this place." The Monkey repeated, gaze softening as it turned to the mound of dirt the monkey had been kneeling at, a pile of rocks acting as a makeshift headstone, "He is within the cycle of reincarnation now. Sitting here and wasting away at his grave will not bring him back."

"G-go on without me then!" Wukong said, turning back to the grave of the his other half. "I can't! I-I won't leave him again!"

"He is not here, Wukong " Tripitaka let out a sigh, kneeling beside his disciple and placing his hand upon the grieving monkey's back, "We have waited five days for you, but I'm afraid we can wait no longer. Wukong, he would not want you to waste away like this. Not if he truly cared for you."

[caramelpenguin]

"Simon!" Wilhelm exclaims, propping himself up on an elbow. The duvet slips down to his stomach, revealing the sharp lines of his chest. His eyes are wide, bright with discovery. "Your ears are pierced!"

Simon blinks, caught off guard by the sudden outburst, then nods, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah. They have been for years."

Wilhelm’s brow furrows, his gaze flicking between Simon’s face and his ears like he’s trying to solve a puzzle. “Why don’t you wear earrings?”

"I did a lot when I was little. But I kept losing them, so I stopped."

Wilhelm looks as if he's found a hidden treasure. He leans closer, his fingers brushing lightly against Simon’s earlobe. It sends a shiver down his spine. "Small gold studs would really suit you. It would really complement your skin tone." "Mhm, I'll think about it." is the final thing he says before Wille's phone alarm rings.

Two weeks later, when he arrives at Hillerska wearing small gold studs, Wille's grin is simply blinding. They spend the whole of lunch in his room together, their hands finding new ways to trace old, familiar paths.