#humming (only when he's happy and comfortable)

[sacrificiallane]

too sweet ۶ৎ  percy jackson smut

cw: heavy make out turned dry humping. (bodily fluids), drenched underwear, horny teens! percy being the sweetest boyfriend ever. allusion to giving head (it doesn’t really happen, though)

not proofread, oops

"i love you," kiss, "love you," kiss, "gods ―"

Percy Jackson speaks pretty nonsense when your plush lips trail further and further down his body. he swears this is his Elysium ― pushed into his sea themed sheets and getting utterly loved by you.

"so, so good to me, pretty girl." and you live by his constant praise.

only in his blue boxers he's literal putty under your teasing hands, as your mouth trails a path over each of his freckles, seemingly forming constellations with just your sweet mouth on him.

it's muscle memory when his hips lift off the bed, trying to get even more friction from how easily your making out had turned into... this.

your lips easily find the rough patch of his happy trail, and Percy stutters a little in his breathing. he is closing his eyes in anticipation, his fingers already finding space in your hair.... and then ―

― and then your mouth quickly moves back up, almost as if you're rushing to get back into familiar territory. it's the only indication he needs, to know that you're not just merely trying to tease him.

his sea green eyes slowly flutter open again, and Percy tries to find his thoughts somewhere that isn't tugged under his waistband.

his voice is all hazy when his eyes connect with yours again.

"you scared to go lower?"

and his question was so genuine ― you wanted to cry. he wasn't being pushy, and nothing in his tone suggested that he was disappointed or upset. no, your boyfriend was genuinely checking in with you, to see if you were okay with all this.

he then found your gaze turn a bit sheepish, almost... shy, as you slowly nodded your pretty head at him. "uhm, yea," he heard you whisper, and a flush overtook your features, "it's scary down there. i don't know what to do with... all that."

oh. oh….

Percy can't even stop himself from snorting a bit at your answer. leave it to his partner, to describe his most sensitive part as 'scary'. he finds it all too sweet, too!

of course, there was barely anything you could do 'wrong' with it, in his mind, anyway. but Percy is the last person to push you into something you aren't completely comfortable with.

the guy would happily just let you kiss him silly, if that's all you're comfy with!

"sweetheart," his gaze softens at your admission, and his thumb softly brushes over your cheek, just to see you look less worried about his reaction. "that's totally fine," he hums, and watches you closely, "we can try some other time. or we can never try again. whatever you'd like. i'm happy when you’re happy, honestly."

but it's the way you tell him that you totally don't want to stop this completely! you have urges too, after all. so Percy finds himself greedily licking into your mouth, until further thoughts just melt away. he's quick to flip the both of you over, hovering above you, all while making pretty little sounds of pleasure that mingle with your own.

his body molds perfectly against your own, and a roll of his hips is enough to leave you dumb. your lips are all shiny and swollen when he's done with devouring your face, and a lopsided smile splits over his lips that make your tummy flutter. he‘s on you before you can even take a moment to breathe, already thrusting ― gentle, slow ― against your clothed most sensitive part.

you‘re so overwhelmed by his sheer gentleness, that your own hips desperately buckle against his! and Percy can only watch in awe as your legs open wider for him, as to beckon him even closer.

he doesn’t need you to suck his dick! no, Percy prefers you just like this… sprawled open and eager for him to take care of you.

your hand seeking out his own, is enough to have his own stomach flutter. he is quick to interlock his fingers with yours, pressing them into the mattress right beside your head and keeping them there...

and Percy is almost embarrassed at how much he is really leaking through his boxers. it creates a wet squelching patch right where his tip keeps rubbing into your clit, and the mere sight of such has him less embarrassed and even more eager to make you both feel good.

his eyes quickly find yours again, knowing that you need just a bit more coaxing to really find your peak like this. "it's okay pretty girl," the son of poseidon coos gently, closely watching your facial expression. he knows you're close.

you swallow thickly, not able to look anywhere else but him. his muscles move with his trusting, making you all dizzy with how much you love him! how good he makes you feel, too. "Perce―" your breath hitches when your walls flutter around nothing. you're so so close, yet not quite there yet...

"i know, i know." your little whine makes his hand tighten around your own, has his hips grind harder against your clothes pussy, because he is right there with you!

when his hand comes down to press and rub over the fabric of where your sweet clit is hidden underneath, is when you find yourself finally falling apart...

he is so boyfriend, im crying (inspo from a tiktok i watched)

[amirasainz]

Enjoy reading and send some requests!!!

-xoxo babygirl ♥️

The Nurse and her Racer

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon as Yn hurried through the bustling paddock of the Monaco Grand Prix. The air was thick with the scent of fuel, burnt rubber, and the faint tang of espresso from the hospitality suites. Ferrari’s scarlet banners fluttered in the morning breeze, and the hum of engineers fine-tuning the cars filled the air. Yn, as always, was in the thick of it, her medical bag slung over her shoulder and a warm smile on her face. She was the heart of the Ferrari team, the one person everyone turned to when they needed comfort, care, or just a listening ear.

But today, something was off. Charles, their golden boy, was missing.

“Where’s Charles?” Yn asked, glancing around the garage. The usually lively Monegasque driver was nowhere to be seen. Lewis, leaning casually against a counter with a cup of tea in hand, raised an eyebrow at her.

“Didn’t you hear? Poor Charlie’s down with the flu,” Lewis said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Fred decided to bench him for the weekend. Can’t have him passing out in the car, can we?”

Yn’s heart sank. Charles had been looking forward to his home race for weeks. She knew how much it meant to him. “Is he okay? Has anyone checked on him?”

Lewis smirked, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Funny you should ask. Fred’s sending you to his apartment to take care of him. Seems like you’re the only one he trusts to handle our precious Charles.”

Yn blinked, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Me? Alone? At his apartment?”

Lewis chuckled, clearly enjoying her flustered reaction. “Oh, don’t look so nervous. It’s just Charles. Besides, I think he’ll be thrilled to see you. He’s been giving you those puppy eyes for months now.”

Yn rolled her eyes, though her heart skipped a beat. She and Charles had always shared a special bond. He was sweet, kind, and endlessly charming, and she couldn’t deny that she had feelings for him. But she had never acted on them, and neither had he. It was an unspoken thing, a quiet understanding between them.

“I’m just his nurse,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered slightly.

Lewis raised an eyebrow. “Sure you are. Just don’t forget to take care of Leo too. That dog’s more protective of Charles than Fred is.”

---

An hour later, Yn found herself standing outside Charles’ sleek, modern apartment in Monte Carlo. She took a deep breath, smoothing down her scrubs and adjusting the strap of her medical bag. Before she could knock, the door swung open, revealing a very sick-looking Charles. His usually bright eyes were dull, his hair messy, and his cheeks flushed with fever. He was wearing a loose hoodie and sweatpants, looking far from the confident F1 driver the world knew.

“Yn?” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“Fred sent me,” she said, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “You look terrible, Charles.”

He managed a weak smile. “Thanks. I feel terrible.”

Behind him, Leo, Charles’ dachshund, trotted over to Yn, wagging his tail excitedly. She bent down to scratch his ears, earning a happy bark from the little dog.

“At least someone’s happy to see me,” she teased, straightening up and giving Charles a gentle smile. “Come on, let’s get you back to bed.”

Charles groaned but didn’t argue. He shuffled back to his bedroom, Leo following closely behind. Yn took in the apartment as she followed him. It was spacious and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a stunning view of the Mediterranean. But it was also surprisingly cozy, with photos of Charles’ family and friends scattered around, along with a few racing trophies.

She helped Charles into bed, fluffing his pillows and tucking the blankets around him. He watched her with half-lidded eyes, a soft smile on his face.

“You’re too good to me,” he murmured.

“It’s my job,” she replied, though her cheeks warmed at the way he was looking at her. She busied herself with taking his temperature and checking his vitals, her touch gentle and professional.

“You’re burning up,” she said, frowning. “Have you taken anything for the fever?”

Charles shook his head. “I forgot.”

Yn sighed, rummaging through her bag for some medication. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He chuckled weakly. “Maybe. But you’re here to take care of me, so I’ll be fine.”

She handed him the pills and a glass of water, watching as he swallowed them. Leo jumped onto the bed, curling up at Charles’ feet and giving Yn a look that seemed to say, I’ve got this.

“You should rest,” she said, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead. “I’ll be right here if you need anything.”

Charles hesitated, his eyes searching hers. “Will you stay with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

Her heart melted at the vulnerability in his voice. “Of course,” she said softly, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Charles shifted slightly, making room for her. Before she could protest, he reached out and pulled her down beside him, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face in her neck. Leo wiggled closer, pressing himself against her side.

“Charles—” she started, but he cut her off.

“Please,” he whispered, his breath warm against her skin. “Just for a little while.”

Yn’s resolve crumbled. She relaxed into his embrace, her hand resting lightly on his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath her palm, and she could feel the rise and fall of his breathing. Leo let out a contented sigh, his tail thumping against the blankets.

For a while, they lay there in silence, the only sound the soft ticking of the clock on the wall. Yn’s mind raced, torn between her professional instincts and the feelings she had been trying to suppress. Charles’ arms around her felt so right, so natural, and she couldn’t help but wonder if he felt the same way.

“Yn?” Charles’ voice was barely a whisper, drowsy from the medication.

“Yes?”

“Thank you for being here. It means a lot to me.”

She smiled, her fingers gently stroking his hair. “Always, Charles. Now go to sleep.”

He hummed in response, his grip on her tightening slightly. Within minutes, his breathing evened out, and she knew he was asleep. Leo let out a soft snore, his little body rising and falling with each breath.

Yn stayed there, her heart full, knowing that this was where she was meant to be—right by Charles’ side, taking care of him, loving him. And maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

---

The rest of the weekend passed in a blur. Yn stayed with Charles, nursing him back to health and enjoying the quiet moments they shared. By the time the race was over, Charles was feeling much better, and the sparkle had returned to his eyes.

As they stood on his balcony, watching the sun set over the Mediterranean, Charles turned to her, his expression serious.

“Yn.” he said, taking her hand in his. “I need to tell you something.”

Her heart raced, but she nodded, encouraging him to continue.

“I… I really like you. More than just as my nurse. You mean so much to me, and I don’t want to hide it anymore.”

Tears welled up in her eyes as she smiled up at him. “I like you too, Charles. More than you know.”

He grinned, pulling her into a tight hug. Leo barked happily, wagging his tail as if he knew exactly what was happening.

And in that moment, Yn knew that her life was about to change in the best way possible—with Charles by her side, and Leo as their loyal protector.

[regressionschool]

going full toddler: part 1

Marie had no idea what was coming.

She knew Steve had planned a weekend getaway, but the details were still a complete mystery. He had refused to tell her anything beyond the fact that she needed to be ready early in the morning. That, and the way he had smirked as he told her, "Don't pack anything. I've got it all covered," sent shivers down her spine—half excitement, half nervous anticipation.

She had suspicions, of course. Their dynamic had always included elements of CGL and ABDL, but usually, it was within the comfort of their home. This was something different. Bigger.

When Marie woke up that morning, groggy from sleep and stretching lazily in bed, she noticed something immediately—Steve was standing at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, a warm but firm look in his eyes.

"Good morning, princess," he said smoothly. "Your husband isn’t here today. Just Daddy."

Marie’s stomach flipped, a deep blush rushing to her cheeks. She tucked herself under the blankets instinctively.

Steve only chuckled. "Oh, sweetie, no hiding. We have a long drive ahead of us, and I need to get my little girl ready. Sit up for me."

Marie hesitated, but that teasing lilt in his voice made it impossible to resist. Slowly, she peeked out from under the covers, her heartbeat quickening.

"That's my good girl," he praised, pulling the blanket away completely. "Now, let's get you dressed. No arguments, no fussing. Daddy has everything picked out."

And he did.

Marie watched as he pulled out a soft pink t-shirt with ruffled sleeves—one that barely reached past her belly button—along with a pair of shortalls that fastened at the shoulders. But what really made her squirm was the thick, crinkly diaper he held up, unfolding it with an unmistakable whoosh.

Her face burned. "D-Daddy…"

He only raised an eyebrow. "What’s the rule, little one?"

She swallowed, knowing exactly what he meant. She hadn’t been told the full list of rules yet, but she had been told one thing: this weekend, she was in full toddler mode. Steve—Daddy—was in charge, completely. The only way she could stop anything was with a single word: red.

And she wasn’t going to use it. Not when the butterflies in her stomach were from excitement as much as embarrassment.

Once she was powdered, padded, and dressed, Steve guided her to the vanity and gently pushed her down onto the stool. "There we go. Now, let’s get those pretty hair ties in," he murmured, combing through her hair with practiced ease.

Marie watched in the mirror, her breath catching as he gathered her hair into two high pigtails. With each careful movement of his hands, she felt smaller, sinking deeper into her little space. The final touch came with two pink bows, tied neatly at the base of each pigtail.

The sight of herself—diaper bulging beneath her shortalls, soft pink top, and those childish pigtails—made her feel impossibly small. Her thighs pressed together instinctively, the thick padding reminding her just how little she really was this weekend.

"Perfect," Daddy said, brushing a thumb over her cheek. "Now, let's get you buckled in."

Minutes later, she found herself in the backseat of the car, a sippy cup placed in her lap, her feet swinging slightly over the edge of the seat.

"Comfy, princess?" Steve asked as he adjusted the rearview mirror to catch her face.

Marie squirmed, the thick padding under her making it impossible to ignore her situation. She held onto the sippy cup with both hands, lips pursed. She felt so little already.

"Y-yeah…" she finally mumbled.

Steve clicked his tongue. "Excuse me?"

Marie sucked in a breath, cheeks heating again. "Yes, Daddy…" Marie’s face burned, but she couldn’t stop the excited, happy squirm that ran through her. The trip had just begun, and she had no idea what surprises lay ahead. But she did know one thing for sure—she wasn’t in charge. Not even a little bit. And she loved it.

"That’s my good girl," he praised before pulling out of the driveway.

The gentle hum of the car and the rhythmic passing of trees outside the window soon lulled Marie into a drowsy haze. The soft crinkle beneath her, the lingering warmth of Daddy’s praise, and the comforting weight of the sippy cup in her hands all worked together to pull her into a light sleep.

She wasn’t sure how long she’d been out when a sudden beep-beep-beep cut through her dreams.

Marie’s eyes fluttered open, disoriented and groggy. The car was still moving, the scenery outside unfamiliar, and for a moment, she forgot where she was.

“Wha—?” she mumbled, rubbing her eyes clumsily. Her pigtails tickled her cheeks as she turned her head. “What was that?”

Steve, still focused on the road, glanced at his phone, silencing the alarm with one hand. “Just Daddy’s reminder,” he said casually.

Marie blinked, trying to shake off the sleepiness. Everything still felt fuzzy, the world not quite making sense yet. “Reminder for what?”

Daddy smirked at her through the rearview mirror. “Well, first off—good morning again, sleepyhead.”

She pouted, cheeks warming. “M’not sleepy.”

“Mhmm. That’s why you were snoring a minute ago?”

“I don’t snore!” she whined, kicking her feet against the seat.

Steve picked up the full water bottle from the cupholder beside him and reached back, wiggling it slightly so she could see. "Time to swap out your water, little one. Let’s see that sippy."

Marie blinked, her grip tightening around her current bottle. Her cheeks pinked as she glanced down at it—only half-finished.

Steve raised an eyebrow, his voice playful but firm. "Uh-oh. Someone wasn’t drinking like a good girl."

A deep flush bloomed across Marie’s face. She quickly lifted the sippy to her lips and started sucking, desperate to make up for lost time. The moment the cool water touched her tongue, she realized just how thirsty she actually was.

Steve chuckled. "That’s it, sweetie. Such a good girl for Daddy, drinking all on your own."

The praise sent a wave of warmth through Marie that had nothing to do with the sun outside. She felt impossibly small, gripping the sippy cup with both hands and drinking as eagerly as she could, wanting more of that sweet approval.

By the time she finally lowered the cup, a tiny droplet of water escaped down her chin. She wiped it away quickly, trying to act casual.

Steve reached back again, palm open. "Let me see, princess."

Marie hesitated but handed over the now empty bottle. Without missing a beat, Steve unscrewed the lid and replaced it with the fresh one, tucking the used one into the bag he had stashed on the passenger seat.

"There we go," he said smoothly, placing the full sippy back into her hands. "Fresh water for my little one." Marie looked down at it shyly, feeling something melt inside her at the simple act. Then, as she shifted slightly, she felt something else—the thick padding between her legs pressing snugly against her, crinkling softly with even the smallest movement. The reminder made her squirm some more.

Marie settled back into her seat, her new sippy cup resting against her tummy. She peeked at Steve through the rearview mirror, her lips pursing slightly before she asked, “Daddy… can I have my phone?”

Steve didn’t answer right away. He let the question hang as he merged onto a highway, one hand steady on the wheel while the other tapped the turn signal. Then, he glanced at her reflection, his expression calm but knowing.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said with a smirk, shaking his head slightly. “Toddlers don’t have phones, remember?”

Marie blinked, sitting up straighter. “Wait… you didn’t bring it?”

“Nope,” he said simply. “Left it right on the nightstand where it belongs.”

Her stomach flipped. “But—”

“No buts, little one,” Steve interrupted smoothly. “You don’t need it this weekend. No checking messages, no scrolling, no big-girl distractions. Just you, Daddy, and lots of fun.”

Marie’s mouth opened, then shut again. The realization settled deep in her chest—she really didn’t have her phone. No notifications. No way to check the time. No way to zone out with a quick scroll.

For a moment, it made her feel weirdly exposed. Vulnerable. She wasn’t used to not having it, even when she was in little space. There was always an option to pull herself back into her normal, adult world if she wanted to.

But now…

Now, she really was just Daddy’s little girl.

She fidgeted, her fingers tracing the smooth surface of her sippy cup, eyes downcast. “What if I get bored?” she mumbled.

Steve chuckled. “Sweetheart, you’re a toddler. Toddlers don’t get bored, they just find things to be curious about.”

Marie pouted, but when she looked up, she saw his raised eyebrow in the mirror, and her pout softened.

“Tell you what,” he said, his tone light but still dripping with authority, “why don’t you do what little girls do? Look out the window, watch the trees go by, play with your stuffie.” He nodded toward the soft plush bunny sitting beside her in the seat—another thing she hadn’t noticed he’d packed for her.

Marie huffed, crossing her arms dramatically—but deep down, her tummy flipped at how real this was starting to feel. No phone. No control. Just Daddy making all the decisions.

With a little sigh, she turned her head to the window, pressing her forehead lightly against the cool glass. The world outside blurred past—rolling hills, clusters of trees, the occasional glimpse of farmland. Everything felt so much bigger like this, like she was really just a little girl being taken on a big adventure with no say in where they were going.

Her thumb hovered near her mouth for a second, an old habit from when she was feeling extra small, but she quickly grabbed her bunny instead, hugging it close.

“There’s my good girl,” Steve praised, his voice full of warmth. “See? I bet you’ll notice lots of things outside that you never pay attention to when you’ve got your nose in that phone.”

Marie squirmed at the praise, cheeks warming.

Another hour passes, the steady hum of the car and the rhythmic scenery lulling Marie into a soft daze. She’s already on her third sippy cup of the drive, and it’s finally catching up to her. She squirms in her seat, the thick padding beneath her crinkling softly with every movement.

Steve, watching through the rearview mirror, can see the telltale signs—her knees press together, then apart, then together again. She grips her bunny tight, her fingers kneading at the soft fabric as she wiggles, shifting positions in a futile attempt to distract herself.

And then, she goes still.

For a moment, she clutches her stuffed bunny a little tighter, her breath catching. Then, just as quickly, she exhales, her entire body relaxing into the seat, the tension melting away. The only sound is the faintest sigh, almost imperceptible, followed by the softest, telltale crinkle beneath her.

Steve knows exactly what’s happening.

But he doesn’t say a word.

Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road, hiding his smirk as they continue on. A few miles later, he spots a small rural rest stop—nothing fancy, just a shaded picnic area and a few vending machines beside a winding trail. It’s the perfect place to stretch their legs.

“We’re stopping for a bit, princess,” he announces, pulling off the highway.

Marie blinks, startled from her dazed state. “Oh… okay.”

As the car rolls to a stop, she shifts again, and that’s when she really feels it. The once-dry bulk between her legs is now warm and squishy, pressing against her with every movement. She swallows hard, her cheeks heating up as the reality of it settles in.

But at the same time… she’s oddly glad for the break. A chance to get up and walk around, even if the thick, damp padding is impossible to ignore now.

Steve steps out and comes around to open her door. “Come on, little one. Let’s get those legs moving.”

Marie hesitates, then takes his offered hand, letting him help her out of the car. As she stands, the full weight of the soaked diaper makes her knees wobble slightly, the squishy sensation both foreign and familiar.

She chews her lip, looking up at Steve, but he only gives her a knowing smile. “Feels different now, doesn’t it?” he teases, giving her a playful pat on the bottom.

Her face flames, and she buries it against his chest with a small whimper.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” he soothes, stroking her back. “You’re doing so well for Daddy.”

Marie exhales shakily, letting him guide her away from the car. The walk is a welcome distraction, the gentle movement making her feel a little less self-conscious. They wander toward a quiet corner of the rest stop, Marie clutching Steve’s hand, occasionally stealing glances at him.

She doesn’t have to ask what’s coming next. She knows.

And sure enough, as they reach the car again, Steve gives her that look—the one that makes her tummy flutter.

“Arms up, princess,” he instructs gently.

Marie pouts but obeys, letting him lift her into the backseat. As soon as she’s settled, Steve reaches between her legs, pressing lightly against the front of her shortalls. The moment he does, her cheeks burn, and she squirms, but there’s no hiding it now.

“Such a good girl,” he praises, his voice warm and proud. “Already nice and wet for Daddy.”

Marie whines softly, hiding her face behind her bunny.

Steve chuckles, ruffling her hair before pulling out another full sippy cup from the bag. “Here you go, sweetheart.”

Marie peeks over the bunny, pouting. “But Daddy…”

Steve tilts his head. “But what, little one?”

Her lips press into a thin line, but after a moment, she sighs and reaches for the cup. She knows there’s no getting out of it.

“That’s what I thought,” Steve teases, giving her a playful boop on the nose before buckling her in.

As he pulls onto the highway, he catches her in the mirror again.  She has no idea how much further they have to go… or how much fuller that diaper is going to be by the time they get there.

[scarletwinterxx]

i only think of you, will we be together soon? - choi seungcheol scenario

soooo hellooo ~ this is just a quick epilogue/pt 2 of the seungcheol scenario i wrote, you can read it here. I just thought i should atleast write their first kiss🥺🥺🥺 and it's soooo cute. anyways i hope you like it🤍

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

It was an unusual sight—Seungcheol sleeping in on a weekend.

Usually, he'd be up early, either at the gym or getting a head start on errands. But today, he was sprawled across his bed, face buried in his pillow, the blanket barely covering his bare back. His room was dim, the only light filtering through the gap in his curtains.

When you let yourself into his apartment, calling out his name and getting no response, you knew exactly where to find him. Quietly opening the door to his bedroom, you peeked in, finding him sound asleep. His hair was a mess, his broad shoulders rising and falling with his deep breaths.

A mischievous grin spread across your face. Creeping toward the bed, you carefully climbed onto it, trying not to wake him too soon. Then, without warning, you flopped onto his back, draping yourself over him like a blanket.

"Cheol," you called softly, your voice sing-song as you poked his shoulder. "Wake up~."

He groaned into his pillow, his voice muffled but clearly displeased. "Five more minutes..."

"Nope," you chirped, wiggling a little to get comfortable on top of him. "I need you to drive me somewhere!"

He cracked one eye open, groaning again as he turned his head slightly. "Where?" His voice was raspy, thick with sleep, and you couldn’t help but find it endearing.

"The dog café!" you announced, resting your chin on his shoulder. "I’ve been wanting to go, and you promised you’d take me!"

He sighed dramatically, though there was no real annoyance behind it. "Why can’t you let me sleep in peace?"

"Because you’re Seungcheol, and you love me,"

The smile on your face growing, since that moment at the beach there's this blanket of unspoken feelings that doesn't really need to said because at the end of the day he knows you and you know him.

At that, he cracked a small smile, though his eyes were still closed. "You’re lucky I do."

He shifted beneath you, effortlessly flipping over so you were lying on his chest instead of his back. His arms lazily wrapped around you, trapping you in place.

"Cheol, you’re supposed to be getting up," you protested, though you didn’t try to move

"Mm," he hummed, pulling you closer. "Five minutes. Then we’ll go to your dog café."

"That’s what you said before!"

He chuckled, his deep laugh rumbling through his chest. "Yeah, but this time I mean it."

You sighed, knowing you weren’t going to win. But as he held you, his warmth and steady heartbeat lulling you into comfort, you figured maybe five more minutes wouldn’t hurt.

After Seungcheol finally got out of bed (which, in reality, took more than just five minutes), the two of you headed out to the dog café you’d been pestering him about all week. He still looked groggy as he drove, his hair tousled and his hoodie lazily thrown on.

"You’re lucky I like dogs," he muttered, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye as you excitedly bounced in the passenger seat.

"You’re lucky you like *me*," you shot back with a grin, hugging your knees to your chest as you turned to face him.

He just shook his head, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

When you arrived, the café was bustling with happy barks and wagging tails. The moment you stepped inside, a small golden retriever puppy trotted up to you, wagging its tail so hard it looked like it might take off.

"Oh my God, Cheol, look at this baby!" you squealed, crouching down to pet the dog. The puppy immediately rolled onto its back, demanding belly rubs, which you happily obliged.

Seungcheol stood nearby, watching you with a fond expression as you giggled and cooed over the dog. "You’re worse than the dogs," he teased, crossing his arms.

"Excuse me? They’re adorable!" you retorted, looking up at him from your spot on the floor.

He crouched down beside you, scratching behind the puppy’s ears. "Yeah, they are," he admitted, his voice softer now.

You spent the next hour playing with various dogs, from energetic beagles to sleepy bulldogs, while Seungcheol alternated between joining in and watching you from a distance. At one point, a particularly bold corgi jumped into his lap, and you nearly cried laughing at the sight of big, tough Seungcheol awkwardly trying to balance the squirming dog.

"Cheol, you look so cute," you teased, snapping a picture on your phone.

He gave you a mock glare. "Delete that."

"Nope," you said, grinning mischievously.

When it was finally time to leave, you reluctantly said goodbye to the dogs, practically dragging your feet as Seungcheol led you back to the car.

"Happy now?" he asked as he opened the passenger door for you

"Very," you said, your face still lit up with joy.

As he got into the driver’s seat, he glanced over at you, shaking his head with a smile. "You’re such a kid."

"And yet, here you are," you replied, sticking your tongue out at him.

He laughed, shaking his head again. "Yeah, here I am," he said softly, as if to himself.

Then, with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the console, he added, "Let me know when you want to go again."

Your heart fluttered a little at his words, but you played it off, leaning your head back against the seat with a satisfied sigh. "You’re the best, Cheol."

He didn’t say anything, but the smile on his face as he drove you home spoke volumes.

Since he went with you to the dog cafe, it only felt right to go with him too if he wants to do something he likes. Unlucky for you, Seungcheol lives an active lifestyle.

Seungcheol chuckled as he watched you trudge behind him on the trail, your arms crossed and a dramatic pout plastered on your face.

The usually peaceful sound of nature was interrupted by the crunch of your footsteps and the occasional sigh you let out. He stopped to let you catch up, turning to look at your grumpy expression.

“You hate it that much?” he teased, a playful grin spreading across his face.

You nodded like a child, your bottom lip jutting out even more. “I hate it,” you grumbled. “The bugs, the sweating, the uphill part—ugh, especially the uphill part.”

He laughed softly and reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. “You could’ve just said so, baby. I wouldn’t have forced you.”

You shook your head, looking down at the ground. “But you wanted me to join you,” you mumbled. “And you always try out my hobbies, so I figured I should try yours too.”

Seungcheol’s grin softened into something warmer as he stepped closer, his hands gently settling on your shoulders. “Yah,” he said, his tone tender, “you didn’t have to do this just for me. I don’t want you to be miserable.”

“I’m not miserable,” you argued halfheartedly, though your pout betrayed you. “I’m just… not enjoying it.”

That made him laugh again. He bent down slightly to meet your eyes. “Let’s turn back, hmm? We can go grab something to eat instead. How does that sound?”

Your eyes lit up at the suggestion. “Really? You’re not upset?”

“How could I be upset when you’re this cute?” he said, pinching your cheek lightly. “You tried for me, and that means a lot. But next time, I’ll make sure we do something we both enjoy.”

You smiled, your pout finally replaced with a more genuine expression. “Okay. But no more hiking.”

“No more hiking,” he promised, taking your hand as the two of you turned back down the trail. “But I’ll probably still tease you about this for the rest of your life.”

“Cheol!” You groaned, and he laughed, his grip on your hand tightening as he led you back toward the car, already thinking of how to spoil you for putting up with his hobby.

It was one of those rare, lazy afternoons when the group was hanging out at Jeonghan’s place, sprawled across his living room in varying states of relaxation.

You were sitting cross-legged on the couch, quietly sipping on your drink, while Seungcheol sat beside you, one arm casually slung across the back of the couch, his fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder.

Jeonghan, ever the instigator, watched the two of you with a knowing glint in his eyes. He leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand as he smirked. “So,” he started, drawing out the word like it was some grand announcement. “Are you two, like, officially a couple now?”

You froze mid-sip, eyes darting to Seungcheol. He didn’t even flinch, just let out a small exhale through his nose as if he’d been expecting the question.

“I mean...” he began, his voice trailing off as he scratched the back of his neck, his gaze flicking to you for a split second before settling back on Jeonghan.

“What kind of answer is that?” Jeonghan said, feigning exasperation. “You either are or you aren’t.”

Seungkwan, perched on the armrest of a nearby chair, chimed in, his grin wide. “Yeah, hyung, spill it. The suspense is killing us.”

You shifted uncomfortably, suddenly hyperaware of Seungcheol’s hand now fully resting on your shoulder. “I—uh—” you stammered, unsure of what to say.

Seungcheol finally turned his head to look at you, his expression softening in a way that made your heart skip a beat. “Whatever she wants us to be,” he said simply, his tone steady but laced with something unspoken.

The room went silent for a beat before Jeonghan groaned, throwing his head back dramatically. “That’s not an answer, Cheol!”

Seungkwan burst into laughter, clapping his hands. “I swear, you two are impossible.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but Seungcheol just chuckled, his thumb brushing lightly against your shoulder in reassurance.

“I think we’re doing just fine,” he said calmly, shooting Jeonghan a pointed look that clearly said, *drop it.*

Jeonghan raised his hands in surrender, though the smirk never left his face. “Fine, fine. But don’t think I’m not keeping an eye on you two.”

As the conversation shifted to another topic, you glanced at Seungcheol, your lips twitching into a small, shy smile. He caught your gaze and leaned in slightly, his voice low enough for only you to hear.

“Don’t worry,” he murmured. “I’ve got this... whatever *this* is.”

And somehow, that was all the reassurance you needed.

Later he drives you home, the hum of the car engine was the only sound filling the space between you and Seungcheol. The evening air was cool, and the faint smell of his cologne lingered in the car, you fiddled with the sleeve of his jacket you were wearing, the fabric too big for you but warm and comforting, much like the man sitting next to you.

“So…” you started, your voice timid, breaking the silence. “Are we like… what are we…”

You trailed off, unsure how to word the question that had been buzzing in your head since Jeonghan’s teasing earlier.

Seungcheol glanced at you briefly, his expression calm, but you could see the flicker of something softer in his eyes. He kept one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the armrest. “You don’t have to overthink their question,” he said gently. “No rush…”

“Yeah, but I want to know too,” you mumbled quietly, almost shyly, cutting him off before he could finish.

His grip on the wheel tightened just a fraction, and he let out a soft exhale. He pulled the car to a stop at a red light, finally turning his full attention to you.

You were twiddling with the sleeve of his jacket, your fingers nervously tugging at the fabric. That familiar pout was back, the one he could never seem to resist.

“Y/N…” he started, his voice softer now, almost hesitant.

You peeked up at him, your eyes big and vulnerable, and it hit him again—how deep he was, how there was no getting out of this even if he wanted to.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice dipping lower.

You nodded, your teeth catching your bottom lip nervously.

He leaned back in his seat, his gaze steady on yours. “You’re…” He hesitated for a brief second before letting the words fall out. “You’re the person I think about first thing in the morning and the last thing at night. You’re the one I’d drop everything for, no questions asked. And you’re the only one I want sitting next to me, wearing my jacket, pouting at me like that.”

Your lips parted slightly, caught off guard by his sudden honesty.

“So, what are we?” he continued, his lips quirking into the smallest smile. “We’re whatever you want us to be. But if it’s up to me…” He reached out, his hand gently brushing against yours. “We’re already everything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up, his words wrapping around your heart like a warm blanket. “Cheol…”

The light turned green, but he didn’t move the car immediately, his eyes still locked on you. “So?” he prompted, his tone lighter now. “What are we, Y/N?”

You gave him a shy smile, your fingers brushing against his. “I think we’re everything too,” you whispered.

He grinned then, that dimpled, boyish grin that made your chest feel tight. “Good,” he said simply, as if that was all he needed to hear.

And with that, he shifted gears and drove on, the air between you lighter but filled with an unspoken promise.

The quiet of the evening wrapped around you both as Seungcheol walked you to your apartment. The city was alive in the distance, but here, on the dimly lit stairs leading to your door, it was just the two of you.

You stopped at the top, turning to him as he stood a step below, his broad shoulders at perfect height for you to wrap your arms around his neck. Your fingers naturally found their way to the ends of his hair, twisting the soft strands between them.

He looked up at you, his dark eyes warm and fond, his dimples making an appearance as he gave you that small, knowing smile. “What?” he asked, his voice quiet but teasing, like he already knew what you were going to say.

You smiled back, tilting your head slightly as if studying his face. “Nothing,” you said, your voice soft, your heart full. “I love you.”

For a moment, his smile faltered—not from doubt, but from the overwhelming warmth that bloomed across his chest.

Then, without hesitation, he leaned closer, the space between you shrinking as his lips brushed yours in the softest, most tender kiss. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It was steady and gentle, like the beginning of something infinite.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his hand lifting to cup the side of your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you,” he murmured, his voice low but certain.

You couldn’t help but smile again, leaning into his touch, your forehead resting lightly against his. “Good,” you whispered, your fingers still playing with his hair.

His lips quirked into another grin, his dimples deepening. “Good,” he echoed softly, his arms wrapping around your waist to pull you closer. Then he kisses you again.

And in that quiet moment, on the top of those stairs, it was as though the rest of the world ceased to exist. There was just you, Seungcheol, and the unspoken promise that this—whatever it was—was everything you’d both ever need.

[transformers-spike]

You put Breakdown with a gutbuster in my head, and now I need. For him to use it. On me. (Aka reader)

Bonus points if it's disgustingly cute and sweet and BD gets lots of love and praise. 🥹🥺

I overdid it. Again. Thank you @drunkeninlovesailor for beta-reading this fic and smacking some sense into me when self-doubt reared its ugly head. And I will go on to say @ss-shitstorm made me adore Breakdown so much more through Breaking Bread. I look up pictures of him and cry And yes, this is a sequel to Visitors - so back to the heatverse

Knock Out always goes first. Breakdown doesn’t mind it. At least he shouldn’t. He knows he’ll have his turn with you. Everyone does.

Second or seventh place, it doesn’t matter. He should be grateful to have a chance. Just like he should be grateful he didn’t lose more than one optic. Or the feeling in his left arm. Or his honor.

Again, it doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. It’s his turn. No superior waiting at your habsuite, no humiliating dismissal (obviously, they don’t mean for it to seem humiliating – they’re his superiors after all, and he has to obey them) – only you in the midst of your heat cycle.

The “breeding room”, as you jokingly call it, is actually Knock Out’s old habsuite. Repurposed, yeah, but he’s been here enough times to recognize it. Any Con worth their ball-bearings can upgrade after reaching third class. Knock Out used to be a first class. Then he was promoted to Chief Medical Officer and skipped a rank. Breakdown is stuck in second class. Better than first. Better than being a vehicon. He should be satisfied.

You’re curled up in your oversized berth on top of the heating pad. “Hey, squishy,” he whispers, taking his usual place next to you. “Don’t tell me Knock Out tired you out.” Your answer is a snort. You stretch, flesh poking out from under your frame coverings. A common sight by now, but his cooling fans didn’t get the memo. His frame vibrates with their familiar hum.

“Like what you see handsome?” you ask and scuttle up to him, wearing that precious spark-warming smile. He returns it full force.

“What can I say? Even a one-opticced oaf can recognize true beauty.” “Careful, partner. There’s only so much I can take before jumping on your spike.” He barks a laugh. “It may come sooner than you think.” “Bring it. I’m ready to deepthroat until your system reboots. But first -” you huff as you climb into his lap, waving away the servo he’s offering. Once comfortably seated in his lap, you cheekily rub your aft against his interface panel.

“Spill the tea, sis.”

“Hmph…” He drums his digits over his thigh. “We’ve had a record break in the mines! I haven’t seen them this happy in quartexes. There was a small party at homebase, squad’s been celebrating with engex.”

“Homemade?”

“Nah – I’ve checked. I won’t let them pull that stunt again.” He winces at the memory. B15F. Poor scrapper’s been euthanized well before his time. There wasn’t much left to save. The engex melted right through his fuel tanks. Breakdown didn’t pride himself on morality anymore – none of them did. But it was the right call – even if the uncertainty is tearing through his circuitry like a horde of scraplets. Could Knock Out have fixed B15F? Or maybe it would’ve just dragged out his suffering for a chance at nothing. His conjunx had studied at a bigshot academy – Breakdown’s knowledge’s based around rushed medical training. “You okay, big guy?” He snaps out of it. “Yeah! Everything’s good.” You can’t see his reassuring smile with his massive chassis in the way. But maybe if he keeps it up he’ll really mean it.

“You sure? You’ve been doing that a lot lately.” His smile falters. If a human has noticed it… who else has? Is this why Dreadwing’s been especially tolerant of his mistakes? Scrap, Breakdown almost misses his commanding officer’s reproaches. Could he get any more pitiful for frag’s sake? Proving himself after losing an optic to fleshies is bad enough. He’s not an invalid – he won’t be demoted to janitorial duties after working his aft off to make it this far.

“Workload’s been pretty intense. Been on my mind a lot.” He adds a chuckle to convince you – but he can’t see your expression with his chassis in the way.

“Bad enough for the vehicons to get blackout drunk again?”

“Found them recharging in mine carts.”

“Just like a college frat party, huh?” He has no idea what that means. Doesn’t stop him from laughing, though. “You should’ve seen them getting out! The sight brought lubricant to my optic.” “Scrambling like turtles stuck on their backs?” Oh – those, he definitely remembers. “Better. Remember that video you sent of the cat-looking thing surrounded by fermented fruits?” “The raccoon?” “Yeah! Struggling to sit up, then falling back in again!” You snort louder. “Ah. An absolute classic. You should totally film it next time, I would kill to see it.” “Oof. I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can do that while on shift. Ask Soundwave. Nothing escapes him.” Especially any contamination of the medbay – his processor shudders at the memory. At least it wasn’t Commander Starscream. Fooling around’s been kept to Knock Out’s habsuite ever since. And outside the ship, but that’s not the Intelligence Officer’s business.

“More than you know…” you say. Your tiny digits sneakily stroke the protomatter between his hip and thigh. The touch isn’t sensual. At least he doesn’t think it’s supposed to be. You’re not shy about squeezing, biting or running your glossa over it. This feels different. Hesitant.

“You know… you rarely visit first.” He sputters. “It’s not that I don’t want to or anything!” He shifts his frame and cranes his neck to take a good look at you. No success. “It’s that… I’m still a soldier, and they’re my superiors.” “I know that, silly. I’m talking about how you always let Knock Out have the first go at me before either of your shifts start. Why is that?” “I…” He shakes his helm. “Come on, second place doesn’t make any difference. As long as I get to pay you a visit, I’m happy!” His vox is strained. He meant to sound cheerful. What came out felt like rust being scraped off mesh.

You sink your digits into his thigh. Not enough to hurt. Never enough to hurt. A single fleshie can’t hurt a Cybertronian. But it’s clearly meant as a warning. Even he can tell that.

“Dude, just ask to go first. Knock Out is lovely and all, but you shouldn’t neglect yourself for his sake. I want you to come around and let loose before anyone else. Hell, you deserve it. Do you want me to ask Megatron personally? I can do that, no prob-” “No!” It comes out too desperate. “No,” he repeats. Softer. “The others don’t do well with favorites. Uh… except maybe Soundwave, but he doesn’t count.” Breakdown cringes. He wants no part in their power struggles, especially Commander Starscream’s. Else he’d end up at the barrel of his Master’s cannon.

“Okay… but my point still stands. Ask Knock Out to reschedule next time orr I’m bringing Megatron into this.” His vents huff, servos drawn into fists.

“Got it,” he relents. “I’ll talk to him, but if he refuses-” “He won’t refuse,” you say none-too-softly. “We’ve had a chat post-coitus.” He blinks. “You cannot be serious.” “Low and behold, I am. What? Did you expect me not to address it?” “He’s going to be furious at me.” “Like hell . If he so much as lifts a digit, I’ll be happy to inform Megatron and get him put in his place. He’s your superior in the medbay, not outside of it last I checked. And trust me, I’ve been checking.” He clenches his jaw and offlines his optic. “We’re not…” he starts gently, leveling his words carefully. “We’re not Newsparks. There’s a balance we’ve established on the Nemesis. All of us. Bringing Lord Megatron into this won’t offset the balance. It’ll destroy it. What we have here,” he gestures at the small habsuite. “Is thanks to his generosity. I don’t want to lose this because of some petty interface stuff. If he intervenes… I doubt we’ll still be able to visit.” There’s a long pause. He gives you the time to mull it over. An apology already on his glossa. “I understand. I know it’s not my place to call the shots. Part of me wishes that…” You swallow. “Part of me wishes that I could make things easier for you guys. You’ve all been through so much, and I know I’m only the ship’s resident pet or whatever, but I can throw my weight around a bit. You know, use my position for good?” “For good? Primus, you’re already doing us enough good!” “Hm, not exactly. You’re the ones helping me with my heat when he’s not around. Ugh – I would be suffering without you guys.” You squeeze his thigh. “Man-” you laugh nervously. “I hope I’m not getting too sappy. You’re, like, the only one I can have these conversations with.” His fans stutter. “Really? Not even Lord-” “Not even,” you repeat with finality. There’s a comfortable silence. Breakdown is smiling to himself.

“Hey, big guy.” “Yeah, squishy?” “Wanna kiss?” “Is that even a question?” he asks as he picks you up from his lap, servos cradling your fragile human frame. “Mmm, you know the answer.” You touch the sides of his face. His cooling fans flip to the second setting. Your hands are soft. Incredibly soft. His vents cease functioning entirely as you kiss him. Your glossa is warm and wet. His circuits crackle with charge. How could something so small push his systems into overdrive? When you pull away, he’s left cold and yearning. You don’t waste a klik undressing yourself, tossing your frame coverings over his servos and onto the berth. His lips find yours again. You devour his intake like your fuel tanks are empty.

Knock Out satiated you groons ago, but you’re already running hot with want. His heavy engine purrs. “Someone’s eager to get spiked,” he mutters against your intake. You ex-vent sharply and kiss again, grinning against his lips. He slides a digit between your legs, which you immediately part. There’s still feeling in this one, taking in the heat of your slick valve. There’s no trace of your last interface, only a craving for more. A hiss escapes you as he rubs the digit over your minuscule anterior node. Your hips buck into him, teeth grazing his lip.

“Please, stop teasing already. You know I can’t take it.” “I’m not a tease - that’s Knock Out’s job.” He swipes his glossa over your intake. “I’m the total opposite. So, what do you say? Is your little valve ready to take my spike?” Your optics widen, lubricating in excitement. “Oh finally!” You press your helm against his. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this! I’m so glad the recent energon haul got you enough to mass displace.” “Actually, I’ve been rationing my energon for a deca-cycle!” You step away from his helm and look at him in… strange horror. “You what?” There’s pity in your optics and disappointment furrowing your optical ridge.

Oh frag him! Why did he have to open his intake? “It’s nothing to worry about, I swear! I’ve done this plenty of times in the past – there was this time my unit was stranded in the Sea of Rust and there was no energon for almost a whole deca-cycle! Impressive, right? You don’t see any seekers surviving that!” Your horrified expression worsens. “What do you mean you’ve been starving yourself for weeks just to mass displace and fuck me?”

“Come on, it’s not really starving! We bots can deal with it better than you humans!” he stammers, engine revving in panic. “It’s not about that – it’s about sacrificing yourself for… for this!” you gesture at your body. “Fuck’s sake, you could have told me! I was waiting for you to ask! I could have gotten you the energon ages ago!” “Then why didn’t you?” The words smash through his intake before he can stop them, leaving him to clean up the mess.

His spark tightens when you flinch. It’s the first time he’s startled you. The first time he’s seen you scared. “I… I didn’t…” Your gaze falls. “Scrap, I’m so sorry! It’s not my place to say it, I didn’t mean-” “It’s fine,” you gently stop him. He immediately yields. “You don’t have to apologize. I just… didn’t expect it to be this bad.” A sigh leaves your intake. “I still want to help, though. If Knock Out can mass displace almost every time he visits, isn’t there plenty of energon to go around? Don’t you also work in the medbay on top of everything? You deserve at least the same amount of rations.” “It’s more complicated than that,” he mutters. “Knock Out outranks me.” “So? You’re just one bot, it won’t drain the reserves.” He presses a servo to his helm. “My frame type’s the issue. Us warrior class bots need far more energon than the average vehicon.” “Yes, and? You’re still just one more war frame. Who else is there? Megatron, Dreadwing – that makes three.” You bite your lip when you meet his optic. “Let me give you a hand. I’ll leave the whole thing with Knock Out alone if you let me help with this.” “I…” His vents huff. “Okay. I’ll let you take care of it. But, please tell him not to summon me. Else it’ll seem suspicious.” A smile tugs at the corner of your intake. “Got it. Easier done than said.” Hesitating, you reach out to touch his cheekplate. He leans in. You take a deep in-vent. “I’m sorry for blowing up like that. I’ve been so worried about everyone lately, I’ve overstepped so many boundaries. The energon thing just… drove me off the edge.” “It’s okay,” he says, unsure of his own words. “It happens to the best of us. If it’s any comfort,” he grimaces, “Knock Out’s been riding my tailpipe about my energon intake for the whole deca-cycle. That’s why I… tried to keep it a secret. Until now.” “Did it work on him?”

“Frag no!” He laughs. “For all his drawbacks, he’s the closest thing to a doctor on this ship. Noticing something’s wrong’s part of his primary code!” His laughter dies down. “Sorry. This wasn’t supposed to happen. I definitely ruined the mood.” “Not at all.” You press your cheek against his. “If it’s any comfort on my part, I’ve been called someone else’s name during interface.” His optic buzzes in its socket. “Who?” he demands without meaning to. “Who?” He repeats, far softer – now a polite question. “No one in High Command, sadly,” you say like you’ve read his mind, adding an apologetic shrug. “Another human before the alien shebang happened.” “Ah.” He averts his optic to hide his disappointment. “Come on, man. You know I would have immediately rung you up if Starscream had been moaning Megatron’s name during overload.” He cracks a smile. “I guess you’re right.” “Gossip girls forever?” You offer your fist. “Gossip girls forever,” he agrees, tapping it with his digit. You both mimic an explosion and draw your servos away in slow motion. “Still not sure what explosive punches have to do with gossip.” “Shhh - it’s a human bestie thing.” You kiss him again. Gently at first, then harsher with his wordless encouragement – your hunger makes his engine rev. “Want to start with valve to glossa action? How about we keep mass-displacement for the final course?” “Like I’ll ever refuse a free refueling.” You snicker. The noise is so precious it makes his joints weak. Lying on his abdomen with you in his servos, you writhe as he presses his glossa to your valve. “Fuck,” you hiss. “You okay?” he’s unable to hide the smugness in his tone. “I thought Knock Out had the first taste.” “ Fuck , Knock Out. I need your glossa right now. No one else’s.” His fans shudder. Once, handling someone so small was circuit-frying. He’d been with plenty of minicons, but never an organic. Those bots could take a good pounding. Fleshies? Not so much.

“Fuck.” You shiver as his glossa rubs up and down your pretty valve. Your hips buck into it. He grins between your legs and licks again. And again. And again. Until he feels your servos on his crest. “I need to ride your face,” you say – more declaration than request. He blinks, grin widening. “That desperate, huh?” “Shut up,” you growl – too adorable for your own good. How he wants to squeeze and smother you against his face. Your legs are soft on either side of his cheeks, servos gripping onto his crest with impressive strength for a creature so small and frail. He holds his glossa out for you to use as you please, two digits holding your hips in case you tumble off. “How…” You pant. “How are you this good?” He shrugs with his free arm. His vents blast harder. “I’m not even doing anything,” he mumbles with his glossa out. “Of course you are. You’re being your sweet himbo self,” your words falter as you keep riding. 

His cheekplates heat up. “Uh, a what now?”

There’s no answer, only your legs shaking as you furiously grind against his intake. You grip onto his crest, your entire frame shaking. “Breakdown!” you call out, vox breaking. A sudden burst of charge travels down his interface array. His pressurized spike clanks against his panel. “Frag,” he groans. His spike’s throbbing, Ugh, it hurts like he swung it against a wall.

At least you’re oblivious to his, uh, mishap – twitching against his glossa while trying to slow your ventilation. The plating of hips shifts and his panels release his array. His valve is soaking with transfluid, steam almost emanating off of it after overheating for half a groon. The cold air makes his spike twitch. “Is it… is it time?” you ask weakly, turning around to look at his lap. “Oh hey, so that’s where the noise came from.” He cringes, but still helps you get down. You scurry towards the middle of the berth and cheer out “Show me the goods, big boy!” Mass displacement is something he’d done in the past – back on Cybertron when there was plenty of energon to go by. Now it’s just a waste. Not for you, obviously! Primus, you’re worth every last drop. His working receptors buzz with sensation. System diagnostics appear at the corner of his vision. Mass conversion: successful

Warning:

Minimum energon required: 70%

Current level: 93% His joints are calibrated, there’s no ache in his processor, subspace feels fine – everything’s in working order. He can rest easy and focus on the important stuff. “Woah.” you beam at him. It’s uncanny to see you… so much bigger than he’s used to.

The hug is sudden but not unwelcome. Your helm comes up to his chassis, but only barely. It doesn’t take long for you to pull him on top (the close view is to offline for), and drag him into a kiss. His spark pulsates like never before.

“Please, spike me,” you beg. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He looks down at his spike. Then back at you. There are many things he’s learned as a nurse, one of which being: pick the smallest pair of forceps when operating on minicons. Sadly, he cannot replace his spike with a smaller one. But he can prepare you for the operation. “Hey, how about I get you started with something else before you get the hammer?” He lifts up the servo with functioning receptors and flexes his digits. “Promise you’ll rail me afterwards.” “Promise.” He grins.

He’s a denter first and all, but he’s always been careful with his servos back when brushing debris off his comrades after a busted demolition job. It felt like second nature to him. They were at the bottom of the scrapheap. Caring for others, even in small ways, made their plight bearable. His own at least. He pushes in, chuckling as you furrow your optical ridge, intake slightly agape. “Does it sting?” “No.” Another digit is carefully added. You whimper and grit your dentae. One digit and a half then. “What about now? How do you rate your pain on a scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh shut up…” Your tiny valve is absolutely soaked, slick with human lubricant, struggling to accommodate him. If you’ve taken the entire High Command, you can take him. Sure, he’s been told his spike is a “weapon forged by Solus herself”, but Megatron’s definitely bigger. And you’ve fragged him. Everyone knows that. Your valve’s more durable than it seems.

You clench around his digits, expression so lovely it’s clear you’re about to overload. He cautiously curls a digit inside of you. The gentle pressure’s an easy way to make your valve calipers clam down on him. Another whimper escapes you as he rubs at the spot. Your pedes push against his thighs, a desperate plea to stop. But he knows better. “Cute,” he thinks as your sweet noises intensify. He never expected fleshies to be so adorable – but then again, you’re not like the other squishies. Lord Megatron picked the best one. “Please,” you whisper. “This is torture.” “Aw, I thought you wanted to overload.” “You and I…” You swallow. “We both know damn well you’re teasing me. I need your spike, not… not this .”

He laughs. “I keep my promises, don’t worry about it.” He pulls you flush against him, legs over his hips. Bracing himself on one servo, he’s got an arm cautiously wrapped around your waist. “Comfortable? How do you rate your position on a scale from 1 to-” “Breakdown, I swear to fu-” “Got it. It’s hammer time.��� He grins. You grip onto his digits and offline your optics. He pushes in. You suck in a sharp in-vent. He pauses.

“Go on,” you say after a moment. “I can take it. I guess I didn’t expect it to be so big.” “Big?” He blinks at you. “You’re the one taking Lord Megatron. He’s larger than me.” “Not his spike.” You chuckle. He looks up at the ceiling in wonder. “Wow.” “Wow indeed. Now please put that spike to good use.” Like a good soldier and seasoned interface partner, he follows your orders. Ridge by ridge, you take him, grip tightening and dentae gritting until he reaches your limit. He shudders. You’re clenching around him like a cold press, crushing his spike harder than any minicon valve. You seem on the verge of shutting down. “You okay?” “...yeah.” “Do you want me to stop?” “Don’t you dare.” “Got it.” His smile widens.

The pace is incredibly slow. Yeah, Knock Out likes having his circuits rearranged – and yeah, most vehicons he’s been with want to get railed into oblivion. But taking his time with you feels just as good. Charge is building along his array. He wants to tell you so many things – how you’re so beautiful holding onto him like he’s the center of your universe, whimpering and repeating his name listlessly – or how he wishes this could last forever, that he can forget the war when your arms are wrapped around his frame, no matter how small.

Your optics come back online and meet his. Wordlessly, you beckon him closer. He leans down, now bracing himself on his arm. Your servos find his face. “Have I ever told you how handsome you are?” you ask, nuzzling his cheekplate. It’s not the first time you’ve done so. But at this moment, either from mass displacement or the sight of you sprawled out before him (or both), his spark throbs in his chassis. His array is pulsating with charge. He presses his forehelm against yours. “Yeah. You always do.” “Good. Because I love you.” Your lips meet his. The charge explodes. Your valve clamps down on his spike. Sparks shoot through his sensors – his engine roars. The world stands still.

Then, he breaks the silence. “By…” his vox crackles with static. He recalibrates his vocalizer. “By Alchemist Prime…” there’s still a buzz to his words. “What was that?” “You tell me,” you answer shakily. Neither of you move for a while. Diagnostics report: Energon level: 87% He pulls out of you, earning a wince. You loosen your grip on his neck and fall back. His optics widen at the load of transfluid trickling out, valve still twitching. He feels equal parts pride and wonder something so small took his spike. Should he tell you about it? You appreciate greatly when he says what’s on his processor. Not everyone does. “Good job,” he tells you, petting your helm like the human he saw congratulating its furry companion. Your expression spells confusion. Then, you grin wider than he’s ever seen and pet him back. His engine rumbles in content. “I would die for you,” you declare without a hint of sarcasm in your vox. He laughs nervously. “Please don’t, Lord Megatron would kill me.” “Then I’d kill him first.” “But you’d already be dead.” “I’d come back as a ghost.” He laughs again, twice as nervous. “Anyway, was it… good?” “You blew my back out.” “I – what ?” “You rearranged my guts.” “Wait, are you about to offline-” “Human euphemisms.” “Oh.” “It means it was the best frag of my life.” “I… oh wow.” He allows you to pull him back on top. “You’re the best I could have asked for.” His cooling fans are blasting. “Um…” “You’re my favorite blueberry popsicle.” “Uh, thanks?” “I love it when you’re blue in the face.” More energon rushes to his cheeks.

“Oh, um – you too!” Frag - that didn’t sound smooth. He hasn’t been this bad since he was newly forged. “Raspberry and blueberry,” you press your helm against his. “My favorite mix.” You kiss him again, less desperately – finally satiated for the next cycle. Or at least a few groons. “Can you cuddle in this form?” Or…do you have to turn back?” He hits his chassis with pride. “Another groon won’t hurt me – I’ll do just fine..” “Aw hell yeah!” He lies down and you quickly take your place at his side, burying your face in the crook between his neck and his chassis. You let out a hum when his digits stroke your back. He can sense the minuscule hairs on your plating. They tickle.

A klik passes by, but you can’t seem to sit still. You push his arm away, readjust yourself, then pull it back in, only to start again a nanoklik later. “Everything ok?” You make a noise of frustration – so adorable it makes his spark ache.

“Give me a sec,” you mutter.

He watches as you get up to fetch your blanket and pillows. “Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I barely managed to clean up before coming over.” “Don’t matter.” You cover his side in them. “I just want to cuddle you.” He bites his glossa. You’re too sweet for your own good. Once comfortable, his servo comes back to stroke your skin. You shiver. “Are you cold? Do you want me to get the heating pad?” “No. You’re warm enough. It just… feels nice to be with you this way. I meant what I said. I do love you. Maybe not on Knock Out’s level – he’s known you before my great grandparents were even born.” He affectionately taps your helm. “I mean, yeah – but what does that have to do with us? Do you humans have a monogamous contract or something?” Your expression says it all. “Oh,” he drawls. “Uh – it doesn’t mean that you can’t be with us, it’s that-” “I’m Megatron’s first and foremost,” you say, looking away from him and straight at the wall. “I… yes. But I mean that-” “I’m together with everyone. I know that.” You turn your attention back to him. “And no, it doesn’t bother me. I simply want to give you the praise you deserve. And the energon. Man, you need that so badly.” Resting your helm atop his chassis, you flash him a warm smile. “I love you. Don’t you ever forget that.”

[mangionebabymama]

“ordinary things” - Luigi Mangione

“No matter what we do, there’s never gonna be an ordinary thing” - “ordinary things” by Ariana Grande

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: None, fluff and, surprisingly, Luigi drinks coffee here and listens and doesn’t judge

A/N: Inspired by this ask. I already considered writing something based off this song, but it gave me the sign of confirmation. Anon, ily for reading my mind and matching my yearning, this is for you 🤎

The soft morning light streamed gently through the sheer curtains, enveloping the snug apartment in a warm, golden hue that danced across the walls. You luxuriated beneath the soft cotton sheets, savoring the still surroundings of the room. Next to you, Luigi lay in peaceful slumber, his chest rising and falling rhythmically, his arm draped protectively over your waist. The warmth emanating from his body against your skin fostered a sense of closeness that rendered the outside world distant and unimportant. A gentle smile spread across your face as you absorbed the serene moment—sunlight sparkling on the small potted plant by the window and the faint, lingering chirps of birds singing outside. In that treasured instant, you recognized this as the truest form of happiness—a quiet, shared morning that felt like a cherished secret between the two of you.

“You’re up early,” Luigi's voice, filled with sleepiness, came out as a soft whisper. He nestled against your neck; his breath warmed your skin.

“Mmm,” you hummed, turning to face him. His brown eyes, though half-lidded, sparkled with a softness that made your heart flutter. “I just couldn’t sleep anymore… too much on my mind.”

He raised an eyebrow, a casual smile playing on his lips. “Like what?”

You paused for a moment, recalling memories of your grandmother as they drifted through your thoughts. “Just… the little things my grandma used to share about love and life. They just came to my memory, out of nowhere, and I haven't stopped thinking about them. She always used to tell me, ‘True love isn’t about the grand gestures. It’s in the ordinary moments, the ones you’ll miss when they’re gone.’”

Luigi’s smile grew even brighter as he propped himself up on one elbow, gently brushing a strand of hair away from your face with his free hand. “Sounds like a wise woman.”

“She was,” you articulated, experiencing a bittersweet ache that gripped your heart. “She’d tell me stories about my grandpa, how he used to make her laugh by dancing around the kitchen in his socks. Or how he’d wake up early just to make her coffee before she left for work. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it meant everything to her.”

Luigi’s fingers made gentle circles on your arm, his touch causing a shiver to run down your spine. “So, what are you saying? I need to start dancing in my socks?”

You playfully swatted his chest, sharing a delightful laugh together. “No, dummy. I’m just saying… I love this. Us. The little things. Like how you always leave your shoes by the door or make me tea when I’m stressed. It’s… enough. More than enough.”

His face melted into love as he drew closer, his lips softly grazing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss that conveyed a world of tenderness.“You’re incredible, you know that?”

You could feel a warm flush spreading to your cheeks as you nestled your face into his chest, seeking comfort from the shyness that made you blush. “Stop.”

Luigi chuckled, the sound resonating through his chest and into you. “I mean it. You’re not like other people. You don’t care about the big, flashy stuff. Not only that, but you see the beauty in the ordinary. And… I love that about you.”

You raised your head to look at him, your heart swelling with affection. “I love you,” you said.

“And I love you,” he said, his voice brimming with sincerity that took your breath away, a true reflection of the depth of his feelings.

You found yourself remaining in that position for quite a while, your bodies beautifully tangled together while your breaths naturally synced in the wake of the morning. It was precisely these types of moments that you treasured the most—the pure simplicity of it all. His hand fit snugly in yours, his laughter filled the surrounding space, and how he admired you made you feel like you were the only person who mattered in the entire world.

“Hey,” he said suddenly, breaking the silence.

“Yeah?”

“Let’s go for a walk. Just the two of us. No phones, no distractions. Just… us.”

You smiled, warmth blossoming within your chest. “I’d like that.”

You hurriedly dressed in your comfy clothes, slipping out the door with a sense of excitement. The morning air was refreshingly cool and crisp, and the streets were peacefully quiet and unbothered, remaining in solitude with the world just starting to wake up. Luigi gently took your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours as you walked together.

“So,” He eventually remarked, stealing a glance your way with a playful grin. “What’s your favorite ordinary thing about us?”

You thought for a moment, your heart swelling in feeling. “Hmm… I think it’s the way you always know when I need you. Like, when I’m upset, you don’t even have to ask. You… show up. And it’s like everything’s okay again.”

Luigi’s grin softened as he squeezed your hand. “That’s not ordinary. That’s just me loving you.”

Your cheeks reddened, and you looked fixedly at your clasped hands, your heart racing in your chest. “See? That’s what I mean. You always know just what to say.”

He paused in his steps, turning to look at you. His eyes held a deep intensity, and the seriousness in his expression made your heart skip a beat. “I mean it, you know. I’d do anything for you. And it’s not because I have to. It’s because I want to. Because you’re… everything to me.”

Your heart swelled with emotion as you gently cupped his face in your hands. “You’re everything to me, too, Lu. More than you’ll ever know.”

As he leaned in, his lips brushed against yours in a sweet and passionate kiss. It was the kind of kiss that left you feeling weak in the knees, making you forget everything else around you. When he finally pulled away, you found yourself breathless, your heart buzzing with excitement.

“I think,” you spoke gently, your voice trembling, “that this is my favorite ordinary thing about us.”

Luigi smiled, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Mine too.”

You kept walking, hands still interlocked, feeling your hearts beating in perfect harmony. While meandering through the quiet streets, thoughts of your grandmother filled your mind once more. Her words echoed in your mind, reminding you of the beauty in the ordinary.

It’s in the ordinary moments that you’ll miss when they’re gone.

As you looked at Luigi, the man who brought you so much happiness, it occurred to you that she was right. Love isn’t discovered through grand gestures or lavish displays; instead, it lives in the little moments. The way he held your hand, looked into your eyes, and made you feel like the most significant person in the world.

This, right here, is one of those ordinary moments.

Turning the corner, you spotted a small café, its windows radiating a warm glow that beautifully contrasted with the chilly morning air. The gentle flicker of candlelight within hinted at a cozy ambiance, while the enticing scent of freshly brewed coffee and baked goods drifted out through the open door, beckoning you to enter and enjoy the atmosphere. Luigi spotted it, too, and flashed you a grin. "How about we grab a coffee together?"

You nodded, feeling a surge of endearment. “I’d love that.”

As you entered the café, the soft chime of the bell above the door welcomed you. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as the barista acknowledged your arrival warmly.

“What’ll it be?” Luigi asked, turning to you.

“A cappuccino,” you said, returning his smile. “And… you.”

His smile grew even bigger as he leaned in closer, his lips gently brushing against yours in a sweet, quick kiss. “Coming right up.”

While waiting for your coffee, you reflected on how fortunate you were and expressed gratitude for this life and this love. Though not perfect, they belonged to you. In those everyday moments, you discovered, for once and for all, what truly meaningful happiness was and what it meant.

As your coffee was freshly brewed, you settled at a cozy table by the window, where the warm morning sunlight poured in, brightening up the space. Luigi gently reached over, his hand resting on yours, creating a feeling of comfort as you both enjoyed your coffee together in silence.

“You know,” he said, his voice soft after a while, “I hope we can have a love like your grandparents did. I want to experience something like that with you.”

You felt your heart swell, brushing your thumb over his cheek, just over where one of his angelic moles rested. “I want a love like that, too.”

You realized this was it as you sat there with your hands intertwined and your hearts beating in sync. This was the kind of love your grandmother had always talked about—the kind of love found in ordinary moments, the ones that would stay with you forever. And, at that exact instant, as you gazed at Luigi, the man who had so completely stolen your heart, you realized that you had discovered your true contentment. In the simple moments, in the quiet mornings, in the warmth of his touch, you had found your forever.

“I love you,” you uttered softly, your voice nearly lost in the air.

Luigi smiled, his eyes filled with warmth and affection. “I love you.”

As sunlight streamed through the window and the world outside stirred to life, you realized you had all you needed. In the mundane, you discovered the remarkable. In the ordinary, you found the extraordinary.

[quarterlifekitty]

wifey here again with stepdad!Nik, so I think SD would insist on finishing college since she only has like a year left anyway and because she feels like she'll be able to get a job easier with a degree, she doesn't wanna be a burden. Nikolai ofc lets her finish college, it keeps her busy while at home, settling in nicely to their house. He takes care of her every need, and slowly starts to convince her that she doesn't owe him anything, she's his wife now, or soon to be at the very least. All she needs to do is stay home and worry about their little one. Anytime she has doubts about how much he wants her and wants to provide for her she gets reminded thoroughly. It's when SD's bump is getting noticeable that Nik really steps it up. "What if we both miss the important moments?" and SD eventually is like "yeah, okay, but if it ever becomes a burden I'll get a job" and Nik is real proud of himself. SD also becomes very needy, in just the way Nik loves, she wants to be with him as much as possible and needs help a lot because hormones are fucking with her. And she definitely thanks him plenty for his help whenever she can. Bonus NikPrice x SD reader John decides to visit Nik and his new bird since on their last mission Nikolai wouldn't shut up about her and he immediately gets why when he sees SD, she's so sweet and nurturing and she looks gorgeous all round with Nik's kid, stays a few nights and gets drunk one night and jokingly (sorta) tells Nik he'd love to put the next one in her and Nikolai just hums with a smile "why not?" and reader is suddenly being flirted with by her fiance/husband's friend. Is real worried about it cause she likes it and guility goes to Nik who is 1. Very pleased by her honesty and 2. reassures her and tells her that he's okay with it if she is. (Totally wasn't his plan to get his two favorite people together so he could have them both, nope, that's totally not why he raved about her to John and not one other soul. Mmhm)

Also im really sorry if once again this doesn't make sense, stress has got me by a chokehold lately and its making my brain bad lol

Ooooooh wifey you are killing me. Isn’t that the perfect solution, though? You’re so worried about being a burden, let’s bring in another source of income!!

You know. Maybe it’s kinda degrading. But I totally imagine Nik comes up with little tasks for her. Let’s be real, it’s so easy— he saw what her mother was like, he can see how starved she is for approval, it practically blinds her. Things like “I want us to get a new car with some more space before the baby comes— can you research what models are best for family? You have a better mind for things like that than me,” he says with an almost sheepish smile. You’re practically wagging your tail with excitement— and you just look so happy when you present all of your work and he seems so pleased with you.

Also, in a bit of darker move, I can imagine if you’re not as into John as all that— they come up with a story. They say that John wants to have a baby of his own, but he’s not married, and he wants to have a kid before he’s too old and his career gets in the way of romance. So he would love for you to be like a surrogate for him. You’ve done so well with this first pregnancy, and you’re still so young— plus! John would be willing to pay, so it’d be like you’ve got your own income to help out!

The only thing is that John believes in natural conception. And he wants to live with you both during the pregnancy to help out. And he doesn’t actually plan on leaving once you have his kid. And Nik knows how sensitive and caring you are— when you confess to him your doubts about giving the baby up for good once it’s born, he comforts you. Of course he’ll talk to John about it, milaya, he’s sure they can come to an agreement.

[daryltwdixon]

heyy!! i was wondering if you could write something silly with daryl and reader who are in a relationship, but then someone get to make his girl laugh and he gets a bit jealous about it because he wants her pretty smile all to himself😭💕 i imagine this happening in the earlier seasons btw

Daryl Dixon x Reader Request

thank you for the sweet request! Fluffy jealous Daryl for you 🩷 I miss quarry Daryl so much

Daryl was hunched over his catch from the morning, a couple of squirrels he’d snared on the outskirts of camp. He worked his knife with steady, practiced movements, the repetitive slice-and-pull giving his hands something to do while the camp hummed around him.

He wasn’t paying much attention to the others—until he heard you.

That laugh.

It hit his ears before he even knew where it was coming from. Bright and unrestrained. That kind of laugh you only let out when something really caught you off guard. It wasn’t one of those small chuckles or the huffs of amusement you usually gave since the world ended, when people would try to force humor. This was real.

Daryl’s hand stilled on the squirrel’s fur, his head tilting just slightly as he searched for the source.

His stomach dropped when he found it.

You were on the RV with Glenn, the two of you sitting on some folding chairs keeping watch. He was gesturing wildly, some stupid grin stretched across his face, and whatever the hell he’d just said had you throwing your head back, laughing so hard you damn near fell off your seat.

Daryl’s grip tightened on his knife.

The hell was so funny?

He wasn’t even sure why it was getting to him the way it was, but something in his chest burned at the sight. You looked so damn happy, completely caught up in whatever bullshit Glenn was saying.

Daryl’s jaw ticked.

It wasn’t like he was the funny one in camp. He knew that. He wasn’t out here crackin’ jokes or messin’ around like some dumbass trying to impress you. He wasn’t Glenn.

But you were his girl.

And something about the way you were leaning in close, the way Glenn’s eyes lit up when he made you laugh, made something hot coil low in Daryl’s gut. He knew Glenn wasn’t trying anything—hell, the kid was harmless—but that didn’t matter. The feeling was still there, gnawing at him like an itch he couldn’t scratch.

But hell if it didn’t piss him off to hear someone else pulling that kind of joy out of you.

Daryl forced his eyes back to the squirrel, gripping the knife like it had done something personally offensive.

⛺️.:°•٭ 🐿️ .:°•٭ ⛺️.:°•٭ 🐿️ .:°•٭ ⛺️.:°•٭ 🐿️ .:°•٭

The fire outside had burned down low, the rest of the camp settling in for the night. Daryl sat in the tent, boots kicked off, crossbow leaned against the fabric wall. His fingers worked idly over the handle of his knife, his thoughts still twisted up in knots from earlier.

The sound of the zipper made him glance up as you ducked inside, shivering slightly at the cool night air. You flopped down beside him, stretching your legs out before shifting to get comfortable.

Silence.

You turned your head, studying him.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, nudging his arm with your knee.

Daryl didn’t look up. “What d'ya mean?"

You huffed a laugh. “Come on. You’ve been brooding ever since dinner.”

He grunted, rolling his knife between his fingers. “Ain’t broodin’.”

You turned fully toward him now, leaning in slightly. “Did something happen?” A beat. Then, teasingly, “Did I do something?”

His grip on the knife twitched.

Your eyes narrowed, catching the movement. “Ohhh. I did do something, didn't I? Tell me."

Daryl sighed heavily, wiping the back of his hand on his nose, still refusing to look at you. If he looked at you, it would be game over. “Ain’t a big deal.”

“But it's somethin',” you countered, your voice laced with amusement. “You gonna tell me or do I have to guess?”

He muttered something under his breath.

You leaned closer. “What was that?”

His jaw tensed. “Nothin’.”

You leaned into him a little, nudging his shoulder with yours, “Daryl...”

He let out another heavy sigh, shoulders rising and falling. “Jus’…” He shook his head, like he couldn’t believe he was even about to say it. “What the hell was so funny earlier?”

You blinked. “Huh?”

“Glenn,” he muttered, like the name alone annoyed him. “You were laughin’ so damn hard, figured he musta been tellin’ the greatest joke on earth.”

A slow grin spread across your face. “Aw, baby...Are you jealous?”

Daryl scoffed. “Hell no.”

“Daryl.” You grabbed his arm, shaking it slightly. “Oh my god, you are.”

His face heated instantly. “Ain’t jealous. Just—damn, I didn’t know he was that funny, is all.”

You bit your lip, clearly enjoying this way too much. “So… you’re mad ‘cause Glenn made me laugh?”

His fingers flexed on the handle of his knife. “S'like I said, ain't mad.”

“Fine, not mad. Annoyed,” you teased, grinning. “You wanna be the only one who makes me laugh, don’t you?”

Daryl’s ears burned red, and he shifted, looking anywhere but at you. “Shut up.”

You giggled, scooting closer until your knee knocked against his. “Daryl Dixon. Possessive and adorable.”

He shot you a glare. “Stop. Don’t call me adorable.”

You smiled, nudging your head against his shoulder. “You are, though. And for the record…” You tilted your head to meet his eyes. “You make me laugh the hardest. Even when you don’t mean to.”

Daryl exhaled slowly, some of that tension unraveling in his chest. He didn’t say anything, just let you lean against him, his knife resting loosely in his lap now.

After a beat, he muttered, “Still think Morales is funnier.”

You snorted, shaking your head as you curled up beside him. “You’re impossible.”

Daryl turned his head slightly finally looking at you and his eyes flickered down to your lips before dragging back up to your eyes. You were still smiling at him, all soft and his, like you had been from the moment you'd met. He should've known you'd never let him stew in his own jealousy without pulling him out of it.

And hell, if that wasn’t enough to make him grin back.

Slowly, his hand found your waist as he pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was more claiming than gentle. You made a small, pleased sound, your fingers curling into his hair, holding onto him like you had no plans of letting go anytime soon.

Good.

Daryl kissed you deeper, his hand sliding up your back, keeping you close until the air between you grew warm and heady. When he finally pulled back, he lingered, lips barely brushing yours as you both caught your breath.

You smirked, eyes still half-lidded. “Jealousy looks good on you,”

He scoffed, but his grip on you didn’t loosen. “Ain’t jealous.”

You laughed against his mouth, your breath fanning over his lips. “Sure.”

Daryl huffed, but before you could say anything else, he shut you up the best way he knew how—by kissing you again, longer this time, ‘til your teasing melted into something softer, something only for him.

[multific]

By Your Side, Always

Isaac x Reader

Summary: Just a cosy late night with your beloved.

It was a regular day, with an even more regular end.

Dinner was always your favourite part of the day.

You carefully set down the last dish.

The scent of roasted vegetables and freshly baked bread filled the air, mixing with the smell of wood from the fireplace.

Isaac sat at the head of the table, his eyes following your every movement with appreciation.

“Everything looks wonderful,” he said with a smile.

“I hope it tastes okay,” you said, sitting down into your seat across from him at the small table which he made with his two hands.

As the two of you began to eat, the room was filled with the sounds of clinking utensils and peace.

Isaac took a bite of the meat and let out a satisfied hum.

“This is delicious,” he said, turning to you with a broad smile. “I don’t know how you do it, but everything you make is always perfect.”

“It’s not magic, I assure you. Just a little practice.” You laughed, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

Isaac reached across the table, taking your hand in his.

His touch was warm and reassuring, the roughness of his fingers a testament to his hard work.

He did build your house after all. And only recently he built a new fire place for the winter.

The fireplace came out perfectly.

Filling your home with warmth.

“You know, I count myself lucky every day to have you by my side,” he said, his voice low and sincere. “This life we have is more than I ever could have hoped for.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you squeezed his hand gently.

“I feel the same way, Isaac. I couldn’t ask for a better husband.”

The two of you finished your meal in comfortable silence, occasionally exchanging smiles and glances.

When the plates were empty, you began to gather them, but Isaac stood up and gently took them from your hands.

“Let me help,” he said.

Together, you carried the dishes to the basin to wash them.

Isaac stood beside you, drying each dish with a clean cloth.

Every so often, his hand would brush against yours, sending a shiver down your spine.

“You know,” he said, breaking the quiet, “I wasn’t sure what to expect when our marriage was arranged. I didn’t know you, and I didn’t know what kind of life we would have. But now… Now, I can’t imagine my life without you. You’ve made this house a home, and you’ve filled my heart with more happiness than I ever thought possible.”

You turned to look at him. His eyes were full of light, filled with a love so visible it took your breath away.

“Isaac, I’ve never been happier than I am with you. You’re everything I could ever want. I'm happy you feel the same way.”

He smiled, a slow, genuine smile that lit up his handsome face.

Setting the cloth aside, he reached for you, his hands resting gently on your waist.

You leaned into him, your heart beating in time with his.

“I love you,” he said with full confidence.

And soon his lips brushing against yours in a tender kiss.

When the kiss ended, you remained close, resting your forehead against his. “I love you too,” you whispered. Knowing you truly did love him, and you wanted him to know.

The dishes were forgotten for a moment as you stood there, holding each other.

He soon pulled you in for another kiss, this time it was a lot more demanding and hungry than the one before.

But you didn't mind, you allowed him take the lead.

You knew that no matter what the future held, you and Isaac would face it together.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[circlebuttons]

Before Sunrise

retired!simonriley x gn!reader

imagine trying to keep up with retired simon’s sleep schedule (or lack of)

-

You and simon live in a small town with a comfy home to call your own. An attempt to at least try and give Simon a clean slate of some sort, but there's always remnants of the past. Late at night while you're curled into each other, he lays awake sometimes watching you or the ceiling, but always plagued with haunting thoughts escaping from his subconscious. He usually waits for you to roll over before he slips out of bed silently, not able to stand laying down helplessly in bed void of rest. He puts on his house shoes and makes his way to the porch, waiting for the sun to eventually rise and giving your outside set up some use. Sometimes he'll bring a cup of tea, or take the time to roll a few cigarettes, maybe pull out his pocket knife to mindlessly whittle a stick, but every time ends with him carrying you back to bed.

You eventually notice his disappearance and haphazardly throw on some sweatpants and drag your slippers across the floor as you make your way to the front door. He hears the door open and smiles to himself as he hears you hiss at the morning air, "It's cold out Si."

"I know" he responds, moving a pillow to the side, so you have room to sit.

"Gonna get sick" you sigh, still audibly tired, sitting next to him and letting your head drift to his shoulder.

"I'll be alright" he hums passing you his mug and draping his arm over your shoulder, letting the extra fabric hanging from his oversized sweatshirt cover you at an attempt to shield your goosebumped arms from the cold. You sip from his mug a few times before you pass it back to his off hand, the two of you silently enjoying the view from your front porch.

“It’s so pretty out here this time of-” you’re interrupted by a yawn that makes him glance down at you.

He scoffs out a laugh. “Should get back in bed” he suggests, knowing that you won’t, you never do.

“It’s okay. I’ll stay up with you, keep you company” you muse, trying to convince yourself that you’ll actually stay awake.

He’s amused listening to you try to talk yourself out of exhaustion, only humming low responses that eventually taper off the less you talk. Simon likes that you can find sleep so easily, it’s a comforting sign that you’re happy for a lack of better words.

Eventually he can feel the pressure of your head on his shoulder increase as the sound of your breathing changes and he knows you’ve fallen asleep without even looking down at you. It’s a routine he knows well, maneuvering with skill so that your head lulls inward towards his chest and his arms can support your back and the underside of your legs. He stands up and tries his best to gracefully open the front door to carry you bridal style through the house. You only make a brief mumble of complaint when he places you in bed, the cold of your abandoned sheets are a drastic difference compared to your heater of a husband. He tucks you back in and retraces his steps, neatly placing your fallen slippers together by the bed, bringing his mug in from outside, and locking the house back up. Usually around this time it’s easy for simon to get back in bed, even if he can’t sleep, he no longer feels restless. He lays back down, letting you roll back over into him at the sense of his presence. Simon tucks you tightly into his side and keeps his eyes closed until he feels you stir again in the morning, whether or not he actually went to sleep isn’t important.

[bonesxbows]

Once Upon A Dream - Chapter 4 (Lucifer X Reader)

My Masterlist

In a sleeping beauty-inspired AU, a curse is placed over you when you strike up a deal with Heaven to protect baby Charlie, causing you to lose your memory. You remember nothing once the curse takes over; not your marriage with Lucifer, not the family you had with the two of them, nothing. So when a strange smiling demon offers you a place to stay when you can't remember where 'home' is, you take him up on his offer. 

(WARNINGS)

Heavy depressing themes

Loss of a parent (temporary)

Minor assault - Chapter 3 only

Relationship coercion/manipulation - Chapter 4 and onward

Updates might be a little slower now due to school and everything but I promise I haven't given up on this story! Also wanted to say that this is still mainly a Lucifer X Reader, he's coming back into the picture soon I swear, I'm just pulling some strings behind the scenes for now ;)

Link to Chapter 1

Link to Chapter 2

Link to Chapter 3

Banners by @strangergraphics

It was an awkward-looking building, monstrously tall and squatting on top of a hill, cobbled together from various parts and visibly repaired multiple times. But it had an air of charm to it that you didn’t mind, it seemed…homey. Comforting. Alastor had walked you through the door, arm still linked with yours. 

“Alastor! Sooo glad you're back! We’ve been meaning to look into branching out our recruiting services and we were wondering if…we…could…” A bubbly blonde bounced in front of the two of you but she lost her energy when her eyes landed on you, her whole body coming to a dead stop as her words faltered and died into silence. You could feel the heat rise to your face as she stared you down. 

“A moment, Charlie, if you would. I found this lovely individual wandering the streets and in need of some help. They’re looking for a place to stay, poor thing can’t seem to remember much of anything currently. Surely we have room for them here?” The static surrounding his voice seemed to fill the room. 

She seemed caught off guard by his question, as if she had been locked in a trace staring at you. “Oh…oh! O-of course! Yeah, absolutely! Um…why don’t you show them to one of our empty rooms for now,” she told Alastor, then turned back to you, “and then I can show you around the place after you get settled in? There’s a few others I’m sure you’d like to meet. My name’s Charlie, by the way, but I’m sure you already figured that out.” She smiled, blush adorning her pale cheeks. 

“Wonderful. We’ll catch up soon, then!” Alastor answered before you could, pulling you away from Charlie and towards the grand staircase on the other side of the room. 

You acted fast, twisting your head back and telling her, “It was nice to meet you, Charlie,” as he practically dragged you away. Her name seemed to click off your tongue. Strange. You didn’t know any Charlies. Maybe you had? 

The place was sprawling, twisting hallways that all looked alike, spidering off in all directions. You were grateful Alastor was with you, however creepy he seemed. One wrong step and you could have easily gotten lost here yourself. Your eyes roamed the halls as he guided you, cane clicking against the hardwood as he hummed a tune. Crimson red wallpaper lined every wall, adorned with a print of off-color snakes, apples, and wings. There seemed to be tacky circus decor everywhere; decades-old if the layers of dust were to speak. This place was odd, and even with your stunted memory you could remember a lot of strange places around Hell, but this one took the damned cake. 

“Here we are, your new room!” He opened the door, revealing a quaint little hotel room, set with what you had expected; a bed, dresser, desk, and a small armchair. “It’s a modest little setup, I admit. If you’d like, I’d be happy to help fetch you some things to make it more of your own. All you need do is ask.” He leaned his back against one side of the door frame, ears brushing the top of the framing with his cane outstretched in front of him, as you curiously roamed the room. He sounded sincere but that smile was still so…off-putting. 

“Thank you, Alastor, I’ll…consider it. I’d like a moment, alone. Please.” You plopped down on the bed, mentally exhausted. Well, your bed now, you supposed. 

“Hm. Very well! I’ll let Charlie know you’ll be down shortly, then.” And with that he disappeared, sinking into a black cloud of smoke and vanishing through the floor. Your door was still wide open, but you didn’t care, flopping backwards against the mattress and sighing. Your hands smacked against your face, covering your eyes as your whole expression scrunched up in frustration. This whole situation was more than you could handle. Tears burned underneath your eyelashes but you forced them back, anger replacing the despair. You felt a lot of things, but feeling sorry for yourself would not be one of them. 

A sniffle broke through your barricades anyway. 

This shit was hopeless. 

“Are you…doin’ okay?” You heard a voice call out, a knock reverberating off of the wood of your door as they spoke. You shot up, spooked, and pulled your knees up to your chest, curling into a ball against the headboard of your bed. “Woah, hey, sorry, didn’ mean to scare ya. You just…seemed like you coulda used a friend.” He held up his arms in peace, all…four…of them, as he walked into your room, still staying a good distance away from you on the bed, though.

“Sorry, it’s been…a really long day.” You relaxed a little, lowering your guard. This demon was different, far different than everyone else you had met today. He was dressed femininely, all pink and short hems, long spidery legs accentuated by tall boots. But his smile was kind, the metropolitan accent rolling off his tongue in a way that put you at ease. 

“Sure looks like it. You’re new, right? Neva seen your face round before.” He sat on the very edge of your bed, still conscious of giving you space. 

“Yeah, I…I just arrived today.”

“You got a name, sugar?” 

“It’s…” You hesitated, debating if you could trust this demon with the truth of your situation. He seemed sincere enough. “I don’t know, actually. I can’t remember.” 

He leaned back on all four of his arms, his eyes widening as he processed what you had said. But eventually he closed them for a moment as he nodded his head; a look of sympathy. “Memory problems, huh? I can understand that. Name’s Angel Dust, though you can jus’ call me Angel, sweet cheeks.” He winked playfully and you couldn’t help but stifle a small laugh. He was adorable, in an over-the-top eccentric sort of way. “Charlie show ya around yet? Meet the rest of the bunch stayin’ here?” 

“Not yet. I stopped here for a moment first to…catch my bearing, I guess. Didn’t seem to help as much as I’d hoped, though I appreciate you trying to help, Angel.” Your shoulders slumped, but there was a small smile on your face as you thanked the spider. 

“Course, sugar. Wan’ me to walk you down to the lobby? This place can be a fuckin’ maze if you’re not used to it.” 

“I’d like that, Angie.”

He beamed at the nickname, golden tooth shining in his sharp toothy grin. 

When the two of you made it down the stairs you knew you were in for a long night. The patrons of the hotel were sitting around in sofas and armchairs in the foyer, surprisingly only six of them, and they were a colorful bunch even from afar. 

Alastor and Charlie, whom you had met earlier, along with a fluffy-looking winged cat, a peculiar woman with a missing eye, an anxiously jittering snake, and a tiny cyclops girl who was perched atop Alastor’s head, tiny hands busy stringing dead roaches together on a string. As soon as Alastor saw you descending the stairs next to Angel his face creased and his smile became strained. He picked up the girl off of his head as he stood up, placing her down where he had been sitting. She hadn’t seemed to notice. 

“Ah, there you are dear! We were beginning to wonder when you would grace us with your presence again.” Alastor’s voice carried twice as much static than usual as he walked over to you. Out of the corner of your eye you caught Angel grimacing, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of fear or disgust. You hadn’t been around him long enough to know. 

It had sounded almost sarcastic to you, until Alastor grabbed your hand gingerly and placed a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. The gesture sent heat straight to your face. 

Before anyone else had time to react to the strangely loving gesture he had grabbed your hand and led you over to the circle of furniture, taking a seat next to the small girl he had placed on the couch earlier and pulling you down to be next to him, not giving you any other option of whom you could have chosen to sit by. 

It was disorienting at first, being manipulated like a doll, but once you settled into a comfortable position you realized everyone’s eyes were on you. Your eyes widened and then fell to the floor, the stained carpet suddenly a lot more interesting than the people in front of you. Anxiety thrummed through your veins as you shifted uncomfortably under the group’s gaze. 

“It’s rude ta stare, ya freaks.” You heard Angel speak up, breaking the aggressive silence. He was sitting across from you, lanky legs outstretched almost to the point of touching yours, and your eyes flicked upwards towards him at the sound of him defending you. You mouthed a silent ‘thank you’ to him, grateful for the rescue, and he nodded in return. 

“Would you like to introduce yourself? And we can share about ourselves too, get to know each other better!” Charlie exclaimed, a beaming smile on her face as she gestured a pointed finger between you and the group. You heard the winged cat grumble in the corner after her statement. 

“Well, I, um…I’m having memory issues, I guess? Can’t remember my name, can’t seem to remember much of anything, really. That’s why I came here. I’m looking for help to fix…whatever this is.” The words had started to tumble out but you eventually put your train of thought on a coherent track. The reactions around the room were mixed. 

“We’ll help in any way we can! Though we don’t specialize in that sort of thing here. We’re more…rehabilitation focused.” Charlie had seemed the most reactive to your disclosure, her face shifting from shock to sadness to understanding to sympathy within seconds. 

“If I become too much trouble I have no problems with finding a place elsewhere to stay.” You told her, giving her a nod of your head confidently. You refused to be a burden on these people, even if you had just met them. You weren’t incapable of fending for yourself. 

“Nonsense, there’s plenty of room here for you to stay for however long you’d like. Though we will need some way to address you, of course. Can’t have you running around this place without a proper name.” Alastor shot your words down and threw an impossible task at you all in one breath. He had leaned back into the couch, his body tilted towards you, arms outstretched and leaning against his cane propped in front of him on the floor. 

His smile seemed to mock you. A name? Where were you supposed to get a name from? Your mind was a mess! 

“Um…”

You wracked your brain for something, anything. There had to be some memories left, buried underneath the layers of fog. Your brow furrowed as you weaved your way through your subconscious, getting lost in thought. It was mostly static, blips of scenes and half-finished faces, all of which would flit away before you could focus. But there was one that kept resurfacing, scratching at the back of your mind. It was fuzzy, but it was there. A blurred-out face, someone important, calling you by a name. 

“Ducki. I'd like to be called Ducki.” 

They had all been arguing with Alastor, apparently, while you were lost in thought, but their attention snapped to you once you spoke. 

“That’s a weird name!” The little girl exclaimed, speaking for the first time that evening, her hands flying into the air and showing off her now-finished dead roach garland. 

“Nifty!” Someone scolded her. 

“If that’s what you’ve chosen then Ducki it shall be,” Alastor said, supporting your choice. 

The group fell into casual conversation after that, chatting with one another, and you, about anything and everything. Though there was a sense of nagging crawling through your skin as you talked with the other residents. It was persistent, and you couldn’t place your finger on the reasoning, until you scanned the room, tired of the feeling and desperate to find the source. 

Charlie’s eyes had been boring into you the entire time.

To be continued in Chapter 5...

Taglist - Let me know if you would like to be added!

@kyo-kyo1 @voxslays @the-enderwolf-princess @fangthesandwing @hayamie @qardasngan

[swiftiethatlovesf1]

Unspoken Melody p.8

Hi guys, here's a new part of the story, if you've missed part 7 here it is :) If you want to read more of my stories, here's my��masterlist.

In this part, I'll be using lyrics from Olivia Rodrigo and Taylor Swift

Two drivers, one unforgettable concert, and a chance encounter with a pop sensation that leaves Oscar questioning everything he thought about music—and maybe even himself.

The next morning, you woke up to the soft light streaming through the curtains, your body sinking into the plush hotel bed. For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, lost in thought. Everything felt surreal—Mark’s betrayal, the whirlwind of emotions, and how quickly your life had flipped upside down. It was hard to believe that only days ago, everything had seemed so normal.

Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling you from your thoughts. But before you could grab it, there was a gentle knock on the door. You frowned, climbing out of bed to answer it.

Outside stood a hotel staff member holding a tray with a beautifully arranged breakfast—pancakes, fresh fruit, and a pot of coffee. Confused, you accepted it, thanking them before closing the door.

As you set the tray on the small table by the window, you noticed a folded note tucked beside the coffee cup. Opening it, you immediately recognized Oscar’s handwriting.

"Good morning, I had to leave early to get ready for the race, but I wanted to make sure you had something nice to start your day. I hope this helps, even if just a little. And don’t feel pressured to come to the race—I completely understand if you need time to yourself. Take care, Oscar."

A soft smile spread across your face as you read the note. His thoughtfulness warmed your heart, easing some of the lingering ache from the previous day.

You ate the breakfast slowly, savoring the moment of peace and the small comfort Oscar had offered. After finishing, you decided it was time to head home. The idea of retreating to the familiarity of your apartment felt like the right choice.

Packing didn’t take long, and soon you were on a plane back to your city. The flight was uneventful, but your mind kept drifting to the events of the weekend—the unexpected kindness from Oscar, the laughter you shared, and the way he’d been there when you needed someone most.

As the plane landed, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a notification from the race. You opened it to see a photo of the McLaren team celebrating on the podium. Lando had finished second, with Oscar taking third.

A rush of happiness and pride filled you, momentarily overshadowing the sadness. You quickly typed out messages to both of them.

To Lando: "Congrats on the P2, Lando! Amazing race today—you absolutely smashed it!"

To Oscar: "Oscar, P3!! I’m so proud of you. Congratulations, you deserve it so much!"

It didn’t take long for them to reply.

From Lando: "Thanks, Y/N! We missed you today, but whenever you want to come to another race, let us know. Would love to have you back!"

From Oscar: "Thank you, Y/N. It means a lot. Lando’s right—you’re welcome anytime. Hope you’re doing okay."

Their messages brought a smile to your face. Even though you hadn’t been at the race, their support and warmth made you feel included.

As you arrived back at your apartment, you set your bags down and sighed, exhaustion catching up with you. But amidst all the chaos and heartbreak, there was a glimmer of something new—a feeling that, despite the changes, you’d be okay. And maybe, just maybe, you weren’t as alone as you thought.

Back in the quiet of your apartment, the stillness felt heavy but oddly comforting. You moved to your small music room, a sanctuary where you had poured your soul into countless songs. The familiar hum of your guitar and the faint smell of worn leather from the seat gave you a sense of grounding.

Sitting down, you stared at the blank notebook in front of you. A flurry of emotions swirled within—heartbreak, gratitude, betrayal, and the faintest trace of hope. The weight of it all felt suffocating, but you knew one way to let it out: music.

You picked up your guitar, the strings cool under your fingers, and strummed a few chords. The melody came first, raw and aching, reflecting the turmoil in your chest. Words followed, spilling out onto the page as if they had been waiting for this moment.

"You betrayed me And I know that you'll never feel sorry For the way I hurt, yeah You'd talk to her When we were together Loved you at your worst But that didn't matter."

The first song flowed effortlessly, a raw, aching reflection of the heartbreak still fresh in your chest. But as soon as it was done, another began to take shape—one fueled by frustration, betrayal, and the desperate need to let go of the past.

This wasn’t soft or bittersweet. This was fire.

You tightened your grip on the guitar and strummed harder, the melody sharper, the beat more aggressive. The words poured out like venom, a cathartic release of everything you hadn’t said.

"And in plain sight you hid But you are what you did And I'll forget you, but I'll never forgive The smallest man who ever lived"

Hours passed, the sun dipping below the horizon, casting warm orange hues across the room. By the time you set your guitar down, your notebook was filled with new lyrics, raw and unfiltered. It felt like you had opened a vein and let everything pour out, leaving you exhausted but lighter.

You leaned back in your chair, staring at the pages. These songs felt different from anything you’d written before. They were deeper, more personal. They weren’t just tracks for an album—they were pieces of you.

Reaching for your phone, you dialed your manager’s number. She picked up almost immediately.

"Y/N, hey! How are you holding up?" her voice was cautious but warm.

"I’m… okay, I think, I will be okay," you said, surprising yourself with how true it felt. "Listen, I’ve been working on some songs, and I think there’s something here. Something big."

Her tone shifted instantly to excitement. "Wait, are you saying what I think you’re saying?"

"Yeah," you said, a small smile creeping onto your face. "I think a new album is coming."

You could hear her excitement bursting through the phone. "That’s amazing! I knew you’d find a way to channel everything into your music. When can I hear it?"

"Soon," you promised. "But I need some time to finish writing and figure out the direction. It’s still… fresh."

"Of course, take all the time you need," she said. "But Y/N, I’m so proud of you. I know this hasn’t been easy, but this—this is going to be incredible. I can feel it."

After hanging up, you sat in the dim room for a moment, letting her words settle. The album was still in its infancy, but it felt right, like this was exactly what you were meant to be doing.

Standing, you stretched and glanced at your notebook, the scribbled lyrics and chord progressions waiting for you to bring them to life. This wasn’t just music—it was healing. And while the road ahead still felt uncertain, you knew one thing for sure: you were ready to turn the page and start this new chapter.

[kwillow]

What kind of sound are Theo's... noises... intended to be? Snorts? Mouth sounds? Choking sounds? Stuffy nose sounds? I feel like I imagine them as a different thing every time I read them lol

Almost all of the above, really! Nasally grunts, snorts, whines, growls, guttural noises that sound like he's clearing his throat or choking on his own air... Theo makes all manner of noises. Not on purpose.

His "noises" are unconscious vocalizations most of the time. They're akin to vocal tics. The utterances are louder, more pronounced and more frequent the more stressed he is. It takes quite a bit of effort and discomfort to suppress his noises once he feels the urge brewing (if he even catches it in time, because most of the time he isn't even fully aware that he's doing it). He does his utmost to keep them choked down, but to his embarrassment, some grunts and gags always slip through.

Also, often his laugh can sound like "a noise" since it can be more of a gargling wheeze than a proper expression of mirth. His smoking habit hasn't helped the, er, phlegminess of its sound.

A counterpoint to his common stress-sounds is his habit of making quiet humming noises when he's feeling contented and relaxed. He only does it when in exceedingly good spirits - so as you might imagine, he hasn't had much cause to hum in many years.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

Imagine chirping back at legacy like when you meow back at a cat and he gets all happy and giddy, even if it makes no sense in his language but like you're trying! so he's happy :)))

i adore the idea of making sounds and noises back at each other because it sounds like something i would definitely do :D

the first time it happens you barely even notice- Foul Legacy's curled around you on the couch as you flip through some work, peeking over your shoulder and letting out curious chitters at the handwriting scrawled across the papers, and without even thinking you mimic one of his chirps in response. Legacy stills, going completely silent before ecstatic coos and warbles begin to slip from his throat, his lilac fur poofing up and rustling as he insistently nudges his head into your hands. he nips and nibbles at your fingers, letting out similar chirps of his own until you mimic him again and he squeaks with delight, his sparkling wings fluttering happily

you make a habit of mimicking Legacy's sounds, to the point where he'll often come over and gently nudge you until you give him your version of a trill, chittering and joyfully spinning you around afterwards. he'll attempt to teach you his favorite phrases, flowing strings of chirps and coos and rumbles that he painstakingly writes the meanings of down, so you can know exactly what you're saying. there's also a collection of sounds that he's secretly dubbed as your personal words, keeping a keen ear out for differences in your mood and behavior so he knows precisely when you need to be pulled into a hug and cuddled for the day. eventually Legacy begins to mimic your chirping noises back to you, and he merely shrugs when you curiously ask what it means- technically, it means nothing, but since you said it, it means everything to him

[orphiicheartd]

Kaeya used to be the kind of person to dance/vibe in place when he was younger. Humming something under his breath then bounce slightly to the rhythm, until he got distracted or he felt someone staring

These days, he would only do this if he REALLY feels himself comfortable and calm.

[lunaekalenda]

"i have to go to work" you whisper, trying to leave your bed once more, but satoru only grips your hip tighter, pulling your body towards his bare chest. he hums in approval when your body is pressed against his.

"don't go." he murmurs, half asleep half awake. you draw circles on his arm, slowly, sweetly. his breath collides with your neck, and his chest rises with every calm breath he takes. he kisses your nape. "stay here, yeah?"

you turn around between his arms to face him. his handsome features are relaxed, as his blue eyes are closed. his white hair falls on his forehead without order, in a complete mess, giving him the look you like so much. your hand finds its natural way to his cheek, and your thumb quickly finds his lips, caressing gently. "you also have to go to work, satoru."

his face becomes a pout when he hears your words, and the hand resting on your hip moves to your ass, pressing you even more against him, making you move and put one of your legs on top of his hips. he groans.

"i'm sure the kids will be happy i'm not going today. as much as yours will be." he whispers, softly, getting closer to kiss your neck, your jaw. "they need to rest, don't they?" his hand caresses your lower back, up and down, softly. satoru's way of convincing you is slowly working. "it's been so long since we spent a day together, just for ourselves." he murmurs, his sleepy voice making you search more comfort between his arms, wanting to hear him more. "we can sleep a bit more, hugged, like this. then, i would wake up you with kisses, a lot of them, before bringing you the breakfast i would have prepared for you." you smile, even though you're sure you'll be the first to wake up. "then we can cook together, eat together, and spend the afternoon doing anything you'd like, but by my side." his fingers lazily lift your t-shirt, only to press his big, hot palm against your skin, directly. "we can watch that movie you wanted to see, or play that game we bought and we weren't able to try."

you kiss his chest, purely, before pecking his lips. "love, it surely sounds nice, but we have to work." satoru wrinkles his lips. he sighs.

"you're not gonna let your rich boyfriend spoil you by calling once sick?" even when that's not true - you just want to spend the day by his side. - the excuse tempts you. satoru passes you his phone. "c'mon, love. you also need to sleep. resting is also important. you've been stressed"

well, he's right. he knows you better than you know yourself, and it's true that you have been having problems sleeping. you sigh while pressing the number of your boss, under the attentive gaze of satoru, whose blue eyes shine under the early morning sunrays.

"good morning, sir. i don't think i'll be able to work today." your conversation flows as background noise for your boyfriend, who hides a triumphant smile on your neck.