#fluff but not really

[readwritealldayallnight]

“Since you’re always stealing my water bottle, I got you your own. Look, even got it in your favourite colour!” You announce proudly, setting his new bottle down on the counter.

“S’not my favourite…” he murmurs barely loud enough for you to hear, almost like he doesn’t realize he’s saying it aloud.

“What’s that, Si?”

“Black’s not my favourite colour.” He replies more steadily this time, surprising you with his answer.

“Oh. Really?” You clarify, to which he gives you a single curt nod. “I just thought- I mean everything you wear is black.”

“S’true.” He agrees, tilting his head to one side, as though he’s considering this for the first time himself. “Never really thought ‘bout it, but suppose it was, ‘til recently.”

“Why? What’s your favourite colour now?” You ask, curious to know what changed for him to have a new favourite colour all of a sudden.

Simon comes around closer to where you’re standing, leaning down enough to be face to face, gazing straight into your eyes as he holds a single finger up and points towards your eyes saying:

“Those right there, love. Most beautiful colour there is.”

“Also I’m probably still jus’ gonna drink from your bottle.”

“Simon, NO.”

[pseudowho]

Nanami Kento who, when asked what his sexual orientation is, simply responds "my wife".

[obsesssedblerd]

Smau: "I want you back." ☹️❤️‍🩹

The guys getting you back after a breakup. ♥️

(nanami, geto, choso, toji, sukuna, and gojo)

contains: angst w/ happy ending, fluff, a bit of crack

a/n: thank you all so much for 100 followers! here's a little treat. 🥰

[the-meme-monarch]

was thinking abt how anya sleeps by the polle statue. which is motion activated to start talking.

+ i like drawing polle as a Character

[teddybeartoji]

megumi NEEDS you to pay attention to him at all times but he won't ask for it bc fuck that but if you haven't 'bothered' him in like an hour he's huffing and puffing and stomping his foot. he doesn't call or text, he just shows up at your place and then stares at you because he refuses to tell you what's wrong either.

but you can tell he's clingier than usual. he joins you on your bed/couch and he sits a bit closer than usual, his thigh pressed against yours as he sinks into the pillows. he toys with the hem of your (his) shirt and stares at you like a puppy – he thinks he's being tough but you read him like an open book, a faint smile tugging at the corners of your lips when you turn to steal a glance at him.

"did you miss me, megumi?"

he hates how teasing your tone is.

it's making him want to sink even deeper, to hide from your curious eyes. he knows he can't though – as stoic and brooding he wants to be, around you he's laid bare no matter whether he likes it or not.

"...yes."

and he loathes the way your lips curl up and the way your eyes lit up.

awful, awful, awful – you're awful for him. there's a weird feeling in his stomach and he feels sick, his hands are starting to get clammy and it's all just so strange. how can a person have such a big effect on him? why is he losing control over his own body at the sight of your smile?

the honeyed coo that spills from your lips is almost enough to kill him off. a dark shade of pink takes over his whole face and the tips of his ears burn and everything gets even worse when you reach out and cradle his jaw like he's a frail little thing. you press your lips against his in a sweet, gentle kiss but pull away in the same breath just to watch him chase after you.

you knew he would.

cute.

"i'm sorry for neglecting you, baby."

megumi pushes his head back into the pillows with a grumble and throws a hand over his face in a pathetic attempt of saving himself. he feels you rest your hand on his stomach and it's heavy, it's so heavy, he feels like he can't even breathe properly around you.

"whatever."

laughter bubbles from your throat and megumi thinks about physically giving you his heart. what the hell is happening to him? what kind of a magic spell do you have him under?

but it's not like he's really complaining, now is he? he'll pout and he'll sulk and he'll tell you to stop being so lovey-dovey but everybody knows he likes it.

everybody.

everybody can see how much he wants your attention, how much he wants you to baby him. he wouldn't ever admit it, not even if he had a gun to his head, but it's clear as day.

his fingers ghost over yours in a silent plea and you decide to put him put of his misery by snaking your arms around his middle and taking your place by his side. you rest your head on his shoulder and chuckle at the sigh of relief he lets out.

"better?"

"mhmm."

[yuwuta]

friends with benefits with nanami wouldn’t work because he would think you deserve better. you think your arrangement is going well, kento has never complained before, and you’re certainly more than satisfied in bed. he’s handsome, strong, kind, generous with aftercare, and really fucking good with his mouth, so there are no complaints on your end. which is why it’s such a surprise to you when kento confesses that he doesn’t like the way he’s been treating you, and no matter how much you insist that it’s fine, and reassure him that he treats you more than well enough, he refuses. 

“but kento, i’m okay with this,” you attempt to convince him that hooking up is enough—he doesn’t need to feel like he has to do more for you, “you’re good to me, and not just in bed. please don’t feel like you owe me more.” 

“you deserve something proper,” he’s adamant, shaking his head, “you deserve more than convenient sex.” 

“but what if this is all i want?” you can’t help but to tease him. he looks awfully cute with his arms crossed, respectful refusal written all over his face, “i think eating me out on a weekly basis is quite enough, it would just be greedy for me to ask for more, don’t you think?” 

your jokes don’t amuse him, but his expression keeps you giggling. still, nanami sighs, and grumbles, “you should want more. it’s not greedy.”

“kento, if i didn’t know any better, i’d think you’re telling me to raise my standards.”

he blinks, cheeks pink with irritation and eyes hollow with tiredness. you push every single one of his buttons and he doesn’t know why, but he would never stop you. maybe that’s where this impeding guilt is coming from—kento likes you, and he doesn’t enjoy feeling like he’s using you, even if you get to use him in return. he doesn’t want your relationship to be transactional, and he doesn’t like that you think such a relationship is okay. 

because, guilt aside, kento knows he wants more of you; he wants all of you. and even if you don’t want him back, he thinks you should know that you’re worth having all of, and nothing less. 

“maybe i am,” he settles, “you are worth more than an occasional hookup. you should be treated better than this, and i am sorry that i have let it go on for this long.”

“this is ridiculous—you’re nothing but good to me! and i like having sex with you. if you don’t want to have sex with me anymore, that’s fine, but—”

“i didn’t say that,” he interrupts. 

“so… you do wanna keep sleeping with me?” 

“yes. but we should go on a date before we continue.” 

“but what if our date is terrible. do we still get to have post-first date sex?” 

he shakes his head, stepping closer to you and holding your forearms before leaning down to kiss your forehead, “i don’t put out on the first date.”

you scoff, taking a half-step closer, snaking your arms around his torso, and grinning up at him, “what a prude.”

at that he smiles, before bending his neck to indulge you in one last kiss. “i’ll pick you up at seven.” 

[espikola]

Fun fact if you ever feel embarrassed remember: in Czechia we have a bush that always blooms on Easter and it’s rich and gold so it’s blossoms look like someone’s tears or like rain just like Klimt painted it and I adore it so much. It’s called zlatý déšť which means golden rain in English. I thought it would be cute to write that on that aventurine poster drawing since whenever you win a jackpot golden coins start to drop out of the machine. So I added it, posted it, it already had over 1k likes when someone on twitter started laughing at it. I was like what is their problem so I googled what it means in English and I almost got a heart attack. Idk where yall even learn these phrases bc I gen thought golden rain is a name of the bush plus a name of a chemical experiment. I wholeheartedly apologize to everyone who saw it on twitter that day because I swear I did not know golden rain, such a beautiful name, is a name associated with urinating on someone during the woowoo in English

[mintfullyyours]

Just thinking about Amnesia!Simon. but also sorry if this has been done before... I'm new to the fandom but adore everyone here so much so I wanted to contribute.

Thinking about how your fingers tighten around the sheets as you sit beside him. The hospital room is too bright, too sterile, too wrong. Ghost — Simon —stares at you with blank, unrecognizing eyes, his face unreadable beneath the bandages.

It shouldn't have been like this. It was one mission. One last mission. That's what they always say, right?

Now the man who once knew you better than anyone now doesn't even flinch when you whisper his name.

"'m sorry," he mutters, his voice rough but distant. "I don't... I don't remember you."

Something cracks in your chest, but before the pain fully sets in, he speaks again.

"But I think I should."

Your breath catches.

Ghost leans forward, studying you like you're a puzzle he’s desperate to solve. His fingers twitch, like he’s fighting the urge to reach for you.

True, that he saw a pretty little thing walk into his forsaken hospital room and wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into her bones. Even through the cotton haze of sleep, something pulled him to her like a moth to flame.

"You'll remember me, Si. Eventually. Or so the doctors say..." You're rambling now because it seemed better than the heavy silence between you.

"You'll remember me because... You love me." You swallow hard, "You always have."

The gold wedding band on your ring finger glints against the hospital light.

It catches Simon's eye.

His jaw tenses, his breath uneven. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he asks, "Did I tell you that a lot?"

Your heart clenches.

"No," you admit softly. "But you didn’t have to. I just knew"

Silence stretches between you. Would he remmeber you? Maybe not. The doctors never gave you a real answer.

Then, slow and deliberate, he lifts his hand and brushes his fingers against yours—tentative but protective. Like muscle memory.

Like something inside him still remembers.

[anqelrafe]

— ୨ৎ how diva!reader fixed rafe's wardrobe.

synopsis: ever since you've met rafe, you've felt like he needed a wardrobe revamp. of course, you weren't gonna say anything about it cause rafe is...rafe; but now, as his girlfriend, you've got every right to take him on a shopping spree —with his money of course. author's note: first work with diva, I'm so so excited...definitely wish this wasn't written in a free period but wtv. content warnings: fluff! a tiny bit suggestive but no smut.

“sweetheart, i wanna go home.” rafe groaned dramatically, trailing behind you as you piled more clothes into his arms. “and we will” you hum, picking up white linen button up from the racks and adding it into the pile. “when we're done.” you turn around to face him, looking over the hefty stack of new additions to his wardrobe, swapping or getting rid of certain articles of clothing.

“christ.” he mumbled in disbelief, shifting the load into a neater pile, staring wide eyed at the variety of clothing you picked out. “i mean, it’s not like i don’t appreciate it.” he said quickly as your face twisted into an expression that told him to tread lightly. “but do i really...need all of this?” you roll your eyes, pressing your glossed lips into a thin line as you place a hand on your hip. “ray, you dress like a depressed frat boy. it's sad. I don't get it; you have money. yet, you dress like...that.”

“so?” he responds flatly, almost immediately, only to be met with a glare from you. “a'ight, a'ight.” he mumbled in defeat. “i'll shut up.” he sighed, watching you add two pairs of jeans to the stack. with a satisfied grin, you add a few more items to the already abundant pile before nodding to the changing room. “now go,” you commanded, shooing him away with your hand. “try them on so i can say i told you so.”

“you're so demanding.” he huffed, taking a step away from you. “do i look like a ken doll to you, baby?” however, he still made his way to the dressing room, entering inside and closing the door behind him.

as soon as the door closed behind him, he couldn't help but grimace at the mess of clothes that was in his arms. he loved you, very much. but he wasn't the type to go shopping like some housewife. rafe was a simple, very simple, man—a fact that he liked to remind himself in moments like this. with a groan, he set all of the clothes down on the changing booth bench, glancing down at himself before pulling his shirt over his head and throwing it onto the bench.

a few moments later, he had changed into the first outfit, standing in front of the large mirror that was plastered on the wall. he looked himself up and down, turning to examine his reflection at different angles. he looked…different, but he couldn't deny the fact that you definitely had good taste. the light blue long sleeved button up hugged his muscular frame nicely, accentuating his broad shoulders and torso while the white linen pants fit him like a glove everywhere.

he pulled open the curtain, revealing his new outfit to you. “i feel like a private school teacher.” his voice was deadpanned, arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the door frame. you looked up from your phone, eyes trailing over his body in approval before your face twisted into a satisfied smile. "a hot private school teacher.” you countered back with raised eyebrows, walking over to him.

“so you like the outfit, yeah?” he hummed simply, watching as you stood in front of him, tilting your head to the side to look at him better. “hmm.” you hummed, pursing your lips in thought as your fingers slid across the buttons of his shirt.

he raised an eyebrow at your thoughtful expression, watching the way your fingers trailed along his frame, grazing his shoulders and across his chest in slow, careful movements. rafe cleared his throat softly. “what? you don't like it?” he asked, watching you with a mixture of amusement and anticipation.

“no, i like it.” you replied almost immediately, your fingers sliding up to trace the length of his collarbone before finally meeting his gaze. your eyes scanned over him intensely, taking in every inch of his new outfit. “it just needs accessories...a watch, maybe. but you've got plenty of those at home so we don't need to get any.”

a soft chuckle escaped his lips at your response, his arms uncrossing to rest on your hips as he leaned against the wall. “that I do.” he murmured, nodding in agreement. it was a common occurrence; the fact that you liked to dress him as if he were a doll. it was annoying at times, but he let you do whatever you wanted anyways. as long as it made you happy and kept you off his ass, he didn't care. he was a good boyfriend, after all.

he glanced over the pile of clothing that sat on the benches of the changing room, letting out a short breath of air before turning back to you. “'m gonna try the rest of these clothes on, you go pick yourself out somethin”

“i don't need any new clothes.” you said matter of factly, reaching to straighten a few wrinkles on his shirt as an excuse to touch him. “i have plenty. and i don't see anything i like.”

he let out a sigh, gently grabbing your hands and pulling them away from his chest, his fingers lightly gripping your wrists. “sweetheart,” he started, his voice patient but stern and leaving no room for argument, “i said to go pick somethin for yourself. cause we're not leaving til you do. ‘m not gonna get all these clothes without you getting anything for yourself. and stop the ‘i don't see anything’ bullshit. you see something you like every time we go into a store like this.”

you were about to protest, but the look in rafe's eyes and the firmness in his voice stopped you. for the most part, rafe always catered to your wishes and desires, doing whatever you asked of him. you knew that, and he knew that. he wasn't one to go against you. but when he wanted something, or rather, demanded something, you knew better than to argue.

once you nodded in reluctant compliance, his grip gently loosened on your wrists. "okay,” he drawled, a slight twinge of satisfaction in his voice. “now go. be back here in a couple minutes.” he let go of you completely, nudging you in the direction of the aisles of clothing. “go find yourself something pretty. specifically something that'll make tits look good.”

you rolled your eyes, fighting the urge to flip him off, knowing that it would only spur his nasty ass on more. you opened your mouth to protest, already knowing what his selection would consist of, but he cut you off before you could speak. “ah ah ah,” he tutted, pressing his index finger against your pouty glossed lips. “c'mon, just go do it, baby.”

he raised his eyebrows expectantly, waiting for a response from you. when you pressed your lips together in a frustrated pout and murmured an “okay”, he smirked at your compliance, a soft victorious chuckle leaving his lips. “good girl.” he hummed deeply, removing his finger from your mouth before giving your ass a gentle pat. “now go.”

the next hour is spent with rafe trying on the rest of the clothes you picked out, getting your very necessary opinion on them while you wandered the store and grabbed anything that caught your eye. you both ended up walking out with six bags a piece—all of which he payed for with the swipe of his card.

taglist 🪽: @bunbun-3 @drewscoquette @untitled10351 @rafesweetie @meetmebehindthemallrafe @supercutelovergirl @drewswife @plaidcowboy @missquantic @rafesdiorperfume @minitarayummy @this-one-weeb @akobx @mystianqel @lacebambidoll @dolletebun @amterasuu @milamilkie

[luminni]

Konig, Ghost, and Soap cannot be quiet for the life of them when they're trying to fuck you. And I do mean trying very literally, they can't stay quiet long enough to actually get anything done.

"Jus' like tha' lovie," Ghost would start, trying to ease his tip into your opened mouth, stroking your cheek absentmindedly, "Thas' it."

"Aye! who tha' 'ell decided you was gettin' first dibs mate?" Soap would inevitably cut in, He was hard enough at this point to fuck just about any part of your body you let him get his hands on. But he had been dreaming of that hot mouth of yours for ages now.

Ghost's head whipped around to look his sergeant in the eyes, breaking the eye contact with you he had been relishing in, " 'cause 'm yer fuckin' superior thas' why." He responded, clearly trying to get back to the task at hand.

"If we are going off superiority, then I should really be the one to go first," Konig hummed, soothing a rough hand over your arched back now that he had finally wrestled his own boxers off. "Wouldn't you like that mein schatz?" He purred

"Ye feckin Germans always sticklers for the- WOAH! Jesus mate!" Soap interjected, finally laying eyes on the colonel's fully hard cock. "Ye going tae fuck er' with that thing?! You'll rip the poor lass in half!" Soap gaped, slightly impressed and slightly envious, Ghost was in the same boat.

"I don't think our süßes mädchen will mind, no?" Konig continued, slightly perturbed, brows knit together, "And I'm not ever German you imbecile," He spat out.

"Gotta agree -fuck- with Johnny on this one colonel," Ghost sighed, voice straining as he finally slid his tip past your lips, Soap whined in frustration. "Why don't ya let us stretch 'er out first eh?"

"Nein, nein," Konig huffed, "She's taken it so well the other times."

" 'scuse me?"

"She's wha?"

Jealous bastards.

And yes it was extremely hot to have 3 extremely attractive and muscular men all fighting over you like your weren't laid bare underneith them, but they could get carried away.

"Steamin' jesus hen, ye 'ave no idea how long 've been gantin tae give ye a proper fuckin' " Soap would growl, when he finally got to sink himself properly inside your tight cunt, "Been givin' me a right stauner every time I see ye' walk by, 'n lettin me give ye a diddy-ride like that? Fuck yer' jus' perfect"

"What was all of that nonsense?"

" 's dirt talk ye neanderthal! What? ye donae do tha' in Germany?"

"I'm not-"

"Mate, usually ya' want ta' talk dirty to a bird in a language they fuckin' understand no? Like english?" Ghost commented, the hint of a smile at the corners of his lips.

"Tha' wa- shit lass ye grippin' on tae me now- i-it was english!" Johnny whined.

"No it fuckin' wasn't mate, bloody 'ell is a 'diddy-ride'?"

" 's what I did earlier!"

"Ye mean a tit-wank ya tadger?"

"Fuckin' w-whatever."

"Is it possible for either of you to be quite for even just a moment?" Konig interrupted

"oye 'yer one to talk," Ghost scoffed, "Whinin' an' whimprin' like a fuckin teenager when you were in 'er."

Johnny let out a laugh that turned into a pitchy moan and Konig just scoffed, rolling his eyes and focussing his attention back on you.

[umblrspectrum]

happy solvermas

[baepsays]

Gojo Satoru sees you for the first time at a mutual friend's party—and immediately his eyes get stuck on you. the entire time he's watching you drink leisurely at the end of the couch, and roll your eyes at the dude bros attempting to flirt with you, while you ignored them.

after 40 mins of staring, he comes up to you and shoves the guy —pathetically trying to get you to sleep with him— off the armrest of the couch you're sitting on. Satoru just ignores the guy shouting at him and and throwing a fit on the floor. he takes a seat on the armrest instead and looks you dead in the eyes, and goes;

"you look like someone who thinks men ain't shit and would probably make a face that alone would make me cry."

you raise one of your eyebrows at him just a bit amused. confused whether he was trying to pick a fight or what else was he trying at. he goes on and continues what he was saying;

"so please fuck me."

.

.

a/n: divider by @/enchanthings-a. to access more of my works-click here.

[pseudowho]

Fever

18+, whimpering!Higuruma, mmm.

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In the small lonely hours-- those which should have been silent and sacred-- Higuruma Hiromi groaned to wakefulness again. You felt the fever pounding off him, abed with your own furnace. Rolling over with a whisper of sheets, you murmured in the dark.

"Can't sleep?"

"Can't...can't fucking sleep," Hiromi moaned. His palms, hot and dry, pressed over his face. He groaned into them, panting and shivering. "God, anything-- anything to sleep-- drugs, a hammer, just hold a pillow over my face--"

You laughed into your pillow, but Hiromi just grimaced. With one forearm concealing his eyes, his mouth puckered like a child about to cry. You felt a wave of pity, and sighed against his chest, kissing the downy black hair upon it until he shivered. His shivers deepened as your lips grazed over his nipple.

"I could help," you whispered, scratching your fingernails through his hair. Hiromi's eyes fluttered closed, his cock flooding with blood to thicken, too dumb for reason.

"You could just...lie there looking beautiful--" Hiromi laughed, rusty and mirthless, "--and I'll make you feel good--" His breath hitched, his cock beginning to tent beneath the sheets, now, "--and you could sleep."

With one arm still over his eyes, Hiromi gripped the plush of the thigh that you had begun to glide over his lap, grinding his half-thickened cock against his belly. Hiromi swore beneath his breath, and revealed one eye, rueful and stern.

"...s'not very fair," he tutted. His one revealed eye glimmered at you, smudged coal and embers, his jaw shaded with stubble. "That's against the rules."

"Ah yes. The sex rules."

"Rule Number One--" You laughed over Hiromi, licking his nipple into your mouth until his voice stuttered to a halt. His hips flicked up, in a pathetic attempt by his fever-wracked body to pleasure itself.

Hiromi, too pissed off to accept being rendered so base, still didn't notice you reaching over him to the bedside drawer as you suckled on his chest, flicking your tongue over his nipples and leaving petals to bloom.

You rose above him, straddling his pyjama'd lap, and hitching your oversized t-shirt up only enough for him to glimpse the edges of your bare sex. Hiromi dropped the arm from his eyes fully, his jaw slack, his sight fixed on the promise of your pussy. He swallowed hard, his throat sore, his spit hot, his head throbbing.

"...rule...rule number one..." Hiromi continued, only half committed. He faltered, his head arching back and shuddering himself to a full erection when you waggled a vibrator idly before you.

"Rule number one," you parroted, shifting his pyjamas down just enough for his cock, roastingly hot, and filled with fire and blood, to bounce, heavy, onto his belly, "nobody gets off while the other does not."

"Oh...f-fuck--" Hiromi whimpered, his arm back over his eyes the moment your hand encircled his cock. You pumped him, stroking slowly, and gently, until veins traced his length like the River Styx. "Please--please, please...want you to..." Hiromi broke off, swallowing his guilt for such needy demands.

You pre-empted him, shifting to wetten his cock head between your folds, stroking back, and forth, stealing his gasps with a pussyjob that made his toes curl. He whimpered again, bucking up into your hand, begging into the night.

"Shhh," you whispered, raising just enough to notch him at your entrance, and lower yourself down with agonising tenderness, "just...let me."

Hiromi moaned his pleas for every inch that he penetrated you.

"--unnnnghhh fuck-- haaah...that...that...should be illegal, I..."

Hiromi's mind had gone blank. In his feverdrunk daze, all he could feel was the slick, tight grip of your pussy, moulding around his cock until he could feel every ridge of you; the way your core licked his foreskin down until the most sensitive parts of his cock were pleasured. He bucked just once, weak and mewling your name.

Too lost in ecstasy, and certain he'd fill you with his seed in a pathetically short time, Hiromi felt the buzz of a vibrator laid on the patch of black hair above his cock. Arching and panting, Hiromi jerked his head forwards, staring at where you were joined, and felt you sink until your clit fell flush with the vibrator.

He melted back onto his pillows, looking up at you in worship, to hear you moan.

"Oh m-my god...if you think I'm getting nothing out of this, Hiro, I swear to god..."

"...most gorgeous...so gorgeous...good girl..."

Riding him like this, with every last millimetre of his cock inside you, stuffed you all the way to your belly. Seeing how Hiromi panted, half pleasure and half fever, you knew he felt the kiss of his cockhead against your cervix just as much as you did. His tip squelched deep, in a tight little vacuum, sucking the pleasure from him.

With the thick, insistent buzz of the vibrator against your clit, you hand to plant your hands on ribs just to stop your knees from shaking.

Hiromi's murmured pleas were half-baked, addled and aching for release; you caught only jumbled words-- tight. Come. Please. Sorry. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. Love you. Thank you.

You didn't ride Hiromi, as much as grind him deeply within you. Too greedy for fullness, and knowing that all he needed to orgasm was to feel you milking him, you barely rose off his cock. The rhythmic sucking noises, hushed by the night, sounded belly-deep and sinful. The vibrator barely broke the silence, either, so muffled was it by your pussy.

Hiromi's arms ached to the bone. With one draped above his head, the other lifted only enough to pleasure himself with squishing the plush of your thigh, where it embraced his hips. He stroked you, tender, and hoping he could convey his gratefulness through that touch alone.

When you whined his name, fucking down harder and pressing your nails into his skin, Hiromi felt the hook behind his navel, and the beginning of the end.

Hiromi bit the back of his arm, muffling his own pitiful moans. Pleasure dragged through him, unbidden, the ache in his back and balls dreadful and desperate for release. He couldn't stop his impending orgasm if he tried; he could have spilled over his own belly, just from the grip of your hand.

"--f-fuck...my love, I'm...so sorry-- I'm..."

"...s'okay...close...I'm close-- Hiro--"

---u-ungh...c-coming...fuck...fuck-- best drug, s'the best...so good..."

Hiromi jerked within you, filling you with hot, sticky spurts of cum, thickened by dehydration. He moaned in time with the convulsions, inky black commas of hair across his forehead, and his head plunging back into his pillow.

He couldn't remember the last time an orgasm had wracked through every fibre of his body like this, rendering him electric, alive with crackles and sparks.

His face contorted in bliss, the depth of him inside you, and the lazy spurts of seed, sent you over the edge with him. Your knees splayed out sideways, impaling you onto him completely; combined with the vibrator, you came hard enough to make him whimper, as your pussy twitched the last few drops of cum from him.

Sighing, and trembling, your hands fumbled to turn the vibrator off in the dark. You let your head fall back in peaceful reverence, stroking patterns on his tummy. Eventually, you whispered in the dark, with his still hot cock plugged inside you.

"...feel any better?"

A pause...and a soft little snore.

With his arm over his eyes again, pale and exhausted, Hiromi slept. You smiled, languid. You snuggled down, nestling him and his release within you and covering him with your body.

"...good. Sleep...sleep well, Hiro."

[readwritealldayallnight]

It didn’t matter how long or short you were apart, Simon always brought something back for you

After each and every one of his deployments, though all you ever asked for was for him to return to you in one piece, he would find you a small souvenir, a token, a postcard, or some sort of little trinket from whichever corner of the glove he found himself in this time, keeping it near and dear to him until his feet were back on familiar ground and he could put it in your familiar hands

You had told him that it wasn’t necessary, but when he simply blinked and ask you if it made you happy, your reply was an instantaneous ‘yes’, to which he replied ‘then yes, it is necessary’

You loved and treasured all of them, multiple shelves throughout your shared flat adorned with the items that reminded you of the fact that he was always being reminded of you wherever he went

It didn’t take very long for Simon to become enamoured with your reactions each time he presented you with his newest find, wondering if whatever he picked out would make you gasp and cover your mouth, make you roll your eyes and smirk, make you laugh and squeeze his arm, each time was a guessing game that had his heart skipping a beat or two in anticipation

Soon enough, he decided he didn’t really need deployments as an excuse to surprise you, or any reason really, other than to see you smile

And so, trips to the supermarket made by Simon alone more often than not began including cupcakes in your favourite flavour

He’d come back from the mailbox and drop a single flower from someone else’s garden onto the table in front of you

Your nearly finished perfumes and lipsticks would magically find themselves replenished

But being Simon, his gifts didn’t always need to be extravagant

On the rarer occasions when he was only on base for a day, he’d often bring you back something simpler, if not sillier, like a paper clip or a sticky note with a terribly drawn doodle he’d stick to your forehead (god forbid he ever bring home a bullet casing, bragging about how he was thinking about you while he practiced shooting loads today-)

Sometimes he’d bring home a book he saw laying around the common room he thought you might enjoy

Other times he might walk into a room and notice you eyeing the hoodie he’s wearing, pulling it over his head without hesitation and offering it to you before you could even think to ask

Most of the time though, Simon was great at bringing home takeaway for dinner, a favourite sight of yours to behold as he walked through the door of the flat

Empty handed or not, so long as he was home with you , you were happy

[soap-ify]

thinking about laying beside simon on the bed, your head resting on his shoulder while his hands held a book that you had gifted him, his eyes fixed on the text.

your fingers absentmindedly traced over the scars on his chest, letting your soft fingertips draw over the rough sunken skin of the healed gashes — a painful story written in each of them. and you wanted to read it all, read every scar and cut, kiss all of it, absorb it so you could share it with him — a connection only you’d ever have with him.

your fingers slowly found their way to his stomach, hand caressing the muscles that had softened up ever since he had come home from deployment, your eyes noticing the stretch marks starting on the sides of his tummy that you adored so much. pale lines adorning his skin, urging you to probe them too, your hand touching him so gently — an angel soothing a wounded soldier.

simon is gorgeous, too gorgeous. he never seemingly saw it the way you did. “you’re so pretty…” you lazily whispered, pressing a soft kiss on his shoulder.

you were the warmth his cold heart sought, the fire that melted him, the sun that gave his moon the light he never thought he’d see. he needed you in the way a man needed a god, in a way a plant yearned for water. and you were happy to give it all to him, everything for your sweet simon.

“you tryin’ to tickle me, love?” his gruff voice broke you out of your trance, your eyes finding his which were no longer looking at the book, an intrigued grin playing on his lips that made you giggle heartedly and give his stomach some pats.

“maybe.”

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

yall i kinda dont care what you gotta say on this one cus its real to me but katsuki is lowkey a crybaby. i fully believe he cries extremely easy,, like..HAVE YOU SEEN HIM ??? do you see how quickly bothered and emotional he gets over stuff ? no,not angry—bothered and emotional. (but the angry part also works lowkey i like to think in certain situations he gets so angry he cries.)

so yeah every time you argue—wether it’s over the phone n he hangs up on you or in person and he storms off to get away from you. he’s just so mad at you, he’s angry so so angry but he doesn’t like fighting with you. he’s in the right, he’s sure he is.. but a minuscule little part of him sorta wishes he wasn’t so this fight never happened. and also, don’t tell anyone, but he’s also pretty fucking worried you’ll leave him.

oh and there they are, he feels little tears prick at his lash line, practically clawing at his face the moment he feels them coming. he sniffles loudly nose already clogged and he scowls so hard, eyebrows pinched harder like that’ll make them go away.

he’s angry, so angry. he tries to convince himself he’s fuming just so he can stop crying.

—and he cries anyway. it’s nothing too dramatic, no sobs. only a hiccup manages to pass through his lips and he’s heaving and sniffling hard, wiping at his eyes and nose.

and he cries anyway.