#i have honey eyes and an angular jaw

[randomcatgen]

Sunnystar is an athletic tom with dull, orange and white tabby fur. He is 104 moons old. He has round, heterochromatic blue and honey eyes and an angular jaw. He is nurturing and intelligent, but self-indulgent. He's very forgetful. He likes to braid his fur.

[honeyedmiller]

A Burning Desire part one

firefighter!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

rating: 18+, minors dni.

warnings: joel miller au, fluff, mutual pining, reader is a tad bit shy, sort of a slow burn, tons of flirting, reader gets into a serious car accident (but they’re fine i promise), mentions of minor cuts, bruises and disorientation from car accident, brief mentions of blood, no use of y/n. some descriptions of the car accident may not be suitable for everyone to read, so please be weary of this if you choose to read on.

word count: 3.1k

synopsis: you meet a handsome firefighter on a day where everything just feels… different.

a/n: would you believe me if i said this au has been in my drafts since october of last year? it’s a miracle i actually finished it. i scrapped the first idea i had for this au and switched it to this instead. hope you enjoy!

divider by @saradika-graphics

Today wasn’t like most days. 

Something had felt off. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, but a feeling was there, idling in the depths of your very being. 

Maybe it was the way the summer sun was actually shining instead of a roaring thunderstorm rolling through Austin. Maybe it was the way you’d woken up to the sound of mourning doves, the birds you swore you hadn’t heard since childhood. Maybe it was the pleasant walk you had taken to your local café, multiple strangers smiling at you along the way. 

Or, maybe, it was the handsome stranger behind you in line at the café that had caught your eye. 

You didn’t mean to look intentionally. You just happened to have wandering eyes, enjoying the cozy atmosphere of Rosemary’s Roastery before your gaze settled on him—the incredibly handsome stranger behind you in line. 

You did a once-over, subtlety not your strong suit today. You immediately noticed he was in navy blue slacks with a black leather belt holding them up at his waist, and a navy blue shirt with Austin FD printed on the upper left corner. 

So he was a firefighter. 

His kind brown eyes caught yours, and time fucking stopped when he smiled at you. You felt your face heat, tossing him a shy smile before turning back around. 

The barista called you up to the counter, and after you gave her your order, you quietly asked if you could pay for the gentleman behind you. She nods with a smile and you wait at the other end of the counter for your drink. 

You watch as the firefighter orders his drink, bewilderment crossing his features when the barista told him his drink had already been paid for. He nods slowly with a smile, tucking his wallet back into the front pocket of his slacks. 

He walks over to the other end of the counter, a shoulder length away from you before turning to you. 

“You didn’t have to do that, darlin’.” His sweet Southern accent dripped like honey through your veins, warming you in a way you didn’t think was possible. 

“It was– uh– no big deal.” You shrug, and he chuckles before crossing his arms over his chest. 

Christ was he broad. His thick biceps strained against the navy blue fabric of his shirt, tan skin glowing under the soft lighting of the café. 

The veins on his forearms were prominent when he flexed his arms with every subtle move. And, god, he was so tall. 

Aside from his dark brown eyes, he had a defined jaw that was sprinkled with graying stubble and a mustache above his dark pink lips to match. His nose was strong and angular; something of a Greek god himself. His hair was dark brown with grays strewn in, the only indicator of his age. If you had to guess, it’s between mid thirties to early forties. 

He quirked a brow at you, hiding his amusement poorly as you checked him out. 

Yeah, subtlety definitely wasn’t your strong suit at all. 

“So what’s your name?” He asks, and you open your mouth to speak before the barista calls your name out to indicate your drink was ready. You sheepishly smile up at him as you thank her and grab your iced coffee. 

“Guess that answers that,” He chuckles, holding out his hand. You slot your hand in his and he gives yours a shake. “I’m Joel.” 

The barista called his name as well, and he thanked her as he grabbed his coffee. 

“Nice to meet you, Joel,” You pull him back in for conversation, deciding to throw all of your shyness behind you. “So, firefighter?” You ask, and he looks confused for a split second before he looks down at his t-shirt. 

He rolls his eyes at himself with a huff of a laugh. “Was thinkin’ you were psychic for a second before I realized my uniform says it clear as day.” He laughed at himself, and it was incredibly infectious. 

You couldn’t help but admire the crow’s feet at the corner of his eyes. You were so enamored by someone you just met, allowing yourself to indulge in the warm feeling you got in your belly when you talked to him. Never in your life have you experienced this, but the way he made you feel just a few minutes into some small talk had you yearning for him to stick around. 

“My brother and I joined the academy together and now we work at the same station.” He’s thoughtful when he speaks, a telltale sign that him and his brother might be close. 

“That’s really cool. Bet it’s fun working beside him.” You say lamely, internally cringing at yourself for your awful attempt at flirting. 

He doesn’t seem to notice, and thank god for that. 

“It is, when he’s not bein’ a pain in my ass.” 

“Younger brother I’m assuming?” You guess, and Joel looks at you quizzically. 

“Alright, y’sure you’re not psychic or somethin’?” 

You smile and shake your head. “Not at all, Joel. Just good at picking up context clues.” 

“What about the one where I was gonna ask a gorgeous stranger for her number?” His teasing tone warms you, and you bite your lip to suppress the face-splitting smile that was threatening to spill onto your lips. 

“Who’s the stranger? Lucky girl she is.” You play along. 

“Some kind samaritan who decided to pay for my much needed coffee this fine summer morning.” He hums, leaning against the wall next to him. 

“Mm. In that case,” You reach over to the section with the fixings for drinks, grabbing a napkin. You pull a pen out of your purse before scribbling your name and number on the napkin, handing it to Joel. “There you are.” 

He waves the napkin in between both of your bodies, eyes alight with happiness. 

“Definitely usin’ this to text the gorgeous stranger n’ ask her on a date.” 

“Lucky girl. Hope she’ll say yes.” You nudge him softly. 

“I hope she does too,” He grins, looking down at his watch-clad wrist—green band with a black and gray face. His brow furrows and he sighs, taking another sip of his coffee. “‘M real sorry darlin’ I gotta jam. My shift starts in twenty minutes.” 

“No worries, Joel. Hope you have a good shift.” 

“Thank you darlin’. I’ll keep in touch.” He holds up the napkin with a smirk, turning to walk out of the front door. 

You watch as he walks to his truck before exiting the side door, walking back to your apartment. 

-

“Does this mean you have a date for my wedding?” Your sister asks excitedly on the other end of the receiver. 

“Seriously? I just met this man today.” You roll your eyes and continue jotting down grocery items you need to stock up on on a pad of paper. 

“So what? If you guys hit it off that quick then maybe he’d wanna tag along.” 

“You do realize that he’d have to meet the whole family, right? I wouldn’t subject him to that. Plus, we’re getting too ahead of ourselves. I don’t even know if this is gonna go anywhere yet.” 

“Oh come on. Live a little. Let yourself be happy for once, sis.” Your sister is persistent, you’ll give her that. 

“I was fine being single before our small interaction this morning, and I’ll be fine at your wedding without a date too. I’m fine.” Which is sort of true, sort of a lie. You didn’t mind being single, because, hell, it had its perks. 

But another part of you—deep, deep down in the depths of your being, so badly wanted someone to give a shit about you in a romantic sense. You yearned for someone to hold you, someone to do cheesy shit with, someone that you could call home. 

Your sister sighs on the other end of the line. “I know you’re Miss Independent and all, but you need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.” 

You hated when she was right. Your sister, being a few years older than you, always had the superiority complex with I told you so’s plastered across her forehead. 

You couldn’t deny the truth, though, and the truth was you really needed to let yourself have this. Let go and unashamedly let this kind, handsome man take you out on a date. Let him sweep you off your feet. Let him treat you right, because it’d been few far and between since a man has done that for you. 

If the way you felt around him this morning was any indication that you should just relinquish control, that was it. 

“Fine. But I’m still not inviting him to your wedding.” 

And your sister laughs heartily, making you crack a small smile. 

“Right. I gotta go, but keep me updated on him!” 

“I will. Love you.” And she says it back, hanging up the phone. You sigh and stare down at your grocery list, continuing where you left off. 

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzed again. A text from an unknown number. 

Unknown number: 

This wouldn’t happen to be the pretty stranger I met at Rosemary’s this morning, would it? ;)

You laugh at the text, biting to suppress a growing smile as you type a response. 

You: 

Depends, is this the handsome firefighter who put the number on the napkin to good use? 

You saved the number under ‘Joel’, finishing off your list before you received another text. 

Joel: 

Sure is, sweetheart. Although I wouldn’t necessarily say ‘handsome.’ Glad to know the number you gave me wasn’t fake. 

You: 

Me? Give you a fake number? Now that would just be downright stupid of me, wouldn’t it? 

Joel:

Stupid how? 

You: 

Why would I give up an opportunity to get to know a (yes, very handsome, by the way) man such as yourself? 

Joel:

You flatter me, sweetheart. I’m glad we met this morning. 

You can’t contain your smile anymore, having half a mind to drive down to the fire station to see him in person again. 

You: 

I’m glad we did too, Joel. 

Joel:

Watcha up to right now? 

You: 

Heading for the grocery store :) I need to restock a bunch of stuff. How’s your shift going? 

You double check your purse for everything you need before you stuff your grocery list and phone into your bag, grabbing your keys before locking up and heading out. 

The drive to the grocery store was only ten minutes. Emerald Eyes by Fleetwood Mac softly played through the speakers in your car, and you wondered briefly what kind of music Joel liked to listen to. You smile softly at yourself at the thought of him once more, shaking your head as the light turned green. You had to get a grip. 

And then, halfway through the intersection, a loud crash had sounded. It took you several seconds as shock and adrenaline coursed through your body that you realized you were the one who got hit. You hit your head on the driver’s side window, a throbbing pain nearly unbearable sprouting within seconds. Your car spun out, glass shattering everywhere and airbag deploying as you gripped onto the steering wheel for dear life.

“Shit shit shit!” You cry, and once your car was at a stand still, you tried your hardest to look out at the scene to decipher what happened. You know your light was green, so someone must’ve run the red. 

Other civilians pulled over and gathered around the accident, and you hoped someone was calling 911. Your vision became blurry as your head was pounding, and you groaned in pain as you tried to open the driver’s side door of your car. Your limbs felt like steel. You were shaky as you attempted to shove at your door, but you realized the door was stuck. You were trapped in your car. 

Panic started to seize your whole body until you heard the faint wail of sirens. 

Good. Someone called for help. Good. Good good good, you repeated in your head. 

The sirens started to get closer, and you heard people shouting once the firetruck, ambulance, and cops arrived on the scene. 

Joel’s seen many nasty accidents before. The most gruesome, heart wrenching things nobody should ever have to see. 

And yet, he didn’t feel panicked when he was rescuing people, being the hero everyone claims he is. But when he saw that the woman who got hit was you, he started to internally panic. He seized up at the sight of you with tears in your eyes, blood dripping down the side of your face from the cuts of shattered glass. 

“We gotta get her out of there. Tommy, hand me the jaws.” 

“Joel, we need to wait for Cap’s orders.” 

“I’ll get them myself.” Joel grits, passing by his Captain to grab the jaws. 

“Miller, what are you doing?” His Captain asks, and Joel looks at the man. 

“I know that woman in that car. Her door is stuck.” Joel’s desperate eyes trail back to your totaled car, and his Captain nods.

“Have Tommy help you.” He says, and Joel nods. Joel motions for Tommy to follow him. 

“Hey sweetheart,” You hear Joel’s voice, and you swear you’re hallucinating until you see he approaches your car in a hurry. “We’re gonna get you out, okay? I promise you’ll be out soon.” 

His voice is soothing, and a sob leaves your throat at his familiar, kind face. 

“You’re gonna hear some loud creakin’ but it’s jus’ me gettin’ the door open.” He warns, and a few seconds later you hear the loud groan of metal being pried with something sturdy. The door pops open a minute later, and Joel reaches over to unbuckle your seatbelt before lifting you out of your car. His muscles ripple beneath you even through all of his gear, careful not to jostle you too much. He didn’t know the extent of your injuries, but he was hoping they weren’t too bad. 

“Hey, you’re okay darlin.’ I got ya. Let’s let the EMT’s check you out to make sure you’re okay.” Joel places you on a stretcher while the EMT’s get to work, asking you a bunch of questions that you try to answer. You’re still a bit shaken up, but they concluded that you’d be fine. You only had a few cuts and bruises, and they cleaned up the blood swiftly. 

You were fine to walk, so Joel gently draped a blanket over your shoulders as you sat on the ambulance’s bumper. He sat down beside you and sighed as you both looked out to the other car that hit you. A police officer came up to you and asked for your information, letting you know the person who hit you was texting and driving. 

“Are they okay?” You ask the officer, and she nods. 

“They’ll be fine. You both got very lucky today.” She says, walking off to talk with the few other officers on the scene. 

“You okay?” Joel asks, and you look up at him. Worry is blatantly evident in his eyes, and it makes you melt. You just met this man hours prior and he cares about you much more than you probably deserve. 

“I’m fine. ‘S gonna fucking suck trying to find a new car, though.” You huff a laugh, and Joel grins as he stares down at his hands knotted in his lap. 

“Listen, I know we just met n’ all, but seeing you like that in your car scared the hell outta me, n’ I’d never ask a lady for permission to kiss her before the first date, but I just—”

You lay a hand on his arm, a smile on your face as you try to stop his rambling. Your sister’s words from earlier replayed themselves in your head: You need to learn to let go of the reins a little bit. The world won’t end if you give up an ounce of control.

And so you did just that. It was time you stopped worrying about the consequences of falling, because fuck did you deserve happiness. You had quite the hunch that Joel could give you just that. 

Any man that saves me from being trapped inside of a car, is a man I’ll let kiss me anyday.” Your voice is gentle as you look at him with a burning desire. 

And he does. He smiles softly and leans in, his plush lips enveloping yours in a steady, calculated motion. 

You’d be a goddamn liar if you said you didn’t feel like you were floating. You gasped softly into the kiss, and a knowing smile curled onto Joel’s lips as he pulled away in the slightest. 

“I feel it too.” And his lips are on yours again. You thread a hand through his thick locks, deepening the kiss marginally, until you hear a throat clear before you. 

“Really, Miller?” One of his coworkers said with a shit-eating grin, and a man, who’s name you think is Tommy, pipes up as well. 

“Ah, so this is the woman you’ve been talkin’ my ear off all day about. Nice to meet you darlin’, I’m Joel’s brother.” He sticks his hand out and you shake it while introducing yourself, turning to Joel after with an eyebrow raised. 

“Talking about me all day, hm?” You tease, and his cheeks burn bright red. He clears his throat and waves his hand out in front of himself, brushing you guys off. 

“Whatever.” He mumbles toward Tommy and his coworker, and they laugh as they begin to walk away. 

“It’s alright. I was talking about you today, too.” You avow to him. 

His eyebrows raise in shock. 

“To who?” He asks. 

“My sister.”

“Mm. N’ what’d she have to say?” He questions, leaning in closer to you once more. 

“She said I should give it a shot with you.” 

“Really? And what do you think about that?” A smirk makes its way onto his plush lips, and your face heats at his question. You decided to be honest with him anyway. 

“Told her I’d give it a shot.” You bite your lip to keep from smiling too hard, heart thumping in your chest as a low chuckle rumbles through his throat. 

“‘M real glad y’did, sweetheart.” He presses his lips to yours once more, butterflies raging through your whole body. Your veins are pumping with excitement and adrenaline, reveling in the man that is Joel Miller. 

Today really wasn’t like most days, but the unwavering sweetness from the handsome stranger behind you at the café truly was the start of something more than you could’ve ever wished for.  

if you want a part two, lmk!

tags: @party-hearses ; @ilovepedro ; @nostalxgic ; @cool-iguana ; @tinygarbage ; @bastardmandennis ; @amanitacowboy ; @punkshort ; @pamasaur ; @nerdieforpedro ; @brittmb115 ; @joelsranchbaby ; @lovely-ateez ; @nandan11

[cinnahoons]

·: ♱ TAKE A BITE - 𝐘𝐉𝐖

p. yang jungwon x fem!reader w. 479 genres & cw. suggestive!! (17+), strangers kissing in a telephone booth how romantic, touching, nothing explicit or graphic! notes. leftover brainrot from the cherry won photoshoot ( + ib by "take a bite" by beabadoobee)

red, bitten lips move over yours. sweet like cherries and ever the fascination. you have to force your eyes to focus when you pull away to breathe, praying they don’t marvel blurrily at the vision pressed up against you in the telephone booth long enough to miss the moment. 

rich, chocolate hair falls over his eyes in neatly messy strands. there’s an angularity to his jaw; in the set of his eyebrows. he is sharp lines and edges, offset by kind eyes and rosy cheeks. you giggle drunkenly against his mouth, although there’s not an ounce of alcohol in your bloodstream.

“what’s so funny?” he murmurs as his ministrations move down to trail along your jaw, bruising. his lips are hot against your skin, enough to have you tipping your head back against the glass in pleasurable agony. it’s dark outside, probably some time around midnight. warm city lights glitter in the distance, but not enough to illuminate the booth completely. 

“nothing. you’re pretty.”

he pulls back from your jaw, his lips glistening as he stifles a laugh. there’s something distracting in his eyes, an owlishness that manifests in the way he blinks at you like you’re something to figure out. 

“you can barely see me, though,” he says, tilting his head. there’s a funny feeling in your stomach, sweet and sticky, only made worse by the molten texture of his gaze, like the very concept of not having his mouth against your skin is driving him quietly insane. you purse your lips, eyes tracing the soft curve of his chest in the dim lighting, visible only by the grace of his fitted black button-up.

“i can see you just fine,” you hum, catching the glint of smooth, honey ochre reflecting from the city on his hair. “you’re so gorgeous i could bite you.”

something charming settles over his features, a beautiful smile edging along the curve of his mouth. it tugs up at one side.

“ask nicely, maybe.”

your eyelids grow heavier with desire by the second, a combination of the saliva on his lips and the cologne he’s wearing that permeates every single one of your senses. it’s intoxicating, almost as much as the way his sharp eyes train themselves on you, his lashes downcast.

you’re not sure where the lines blur. what you do know is that with every smear of your red lipstick against his neck, or every shuddering groan you pull from his pretty lips, a thousand rapturous fires burn in your throat. his hips are flush to yours, hands roaming your waist. your pulse throbs in your ears, the feeling of his fingertips brushing against your arms like matches to flame.

“you gonna tell me your name?” you whisper, letting him slide his hands just under the hem of your shirt. they’re hot against your skin.

he smiles with his eyes. it lights up his face.

“that’s no fun, is it?

© cinnahoons please do not steal, plagiarize, or reupload my work.

tags! @vousty @neos127 @aenify @junityy

[ninibeingdelulu]

“You both are..my everything.”

plot- higuruma can’t wait to get home to see his little family

The aroma of simmering spices wafted through the cozy kitchen where you were busily preparing dinner.

Soft evening light filtered in through the windows, casting a warm glow over the cheerful disarray of pots and pans scattered about from your culinary efforts.

You paused to wipe perspiration from your brow with the back of one hand, humming contentedly under your breath.

Though you often felt hopelessly outmatched when it came to mastering the culinary arts compared to your talented husband, you took pride in trying your best to create nourishing homecooked meals for your little family.

At the sound of the front door opening and closing with a familiar creak, your face immediately brightened.

Speak of the devil - you'd recognize the subtle cadences of Hiromi's familiar footfalls anywhere.

"Honey? Is that you?" you called out with a grin, already knowing the answer.

Sure enough, your husband soon appeared in the entryway, shoulders sagging just slightly with weariness from another long day's work.

Yet as soon as Hiromi's rich brown eyes landed on you standing there by the stove - tendrils of hair escaping your messy bun, cheeks flushed from exertion, and sleeves rolled up in domestic disarray - his entire expression seemed to soften and warm.

The harsh angles and lines of strain melted from his features in an instant.

With a low groan, Hiromi crossed the distance between you in three strides, startling a laugh from you as his much larger frame enveloped you from behind.

You could feel the tension still coiled tight in the bunched ropes of his muscles as he wrapped those powerful arms around your waist and simply...sagged against you in a full-bodied lean.

"Hey there, handsome." you chuckled fondly, even as his dead weight bore down with that comforting solidity you'd grown to crave like a physical ache whenever he was away for too long.

"Welcome home. Rough day at work?"

Hiromi just grunted in wordless affirmation, nuzzling his whiskered jaw against the crook of your neck as he seemed to liquid-melt against your back.

His lips brushed your skin as he inhaled deeply, the mere presence of your clean, familiar scent already proving a balm to whatever stresses taxed him.

"Remind me why I married a messy little woman who gets her scent all over every inch of our home?" he finally rumbled, a hint of humored gruffness undercutting the words.

"It's downright torturous having to suffer through the day with just the memory of you imprinted on my senses."

You tried and failed to repress the shiver skating down your spine at his rough timbre rasping so sinfully close to your ear like that.

One huge, calloused palm skated downwards to splay possessively over the soft swell of your abdomen, hauling you even more snugly back against the solid wall of his chest.

"Well, I did try warning you about what a terribly disorganized mess you were signing up for." You retorted airily, twisting in his arms until you could face him properly.

Hiromi's chiseled, sharply angular features were thawing into those heart-melting crinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth that you loved drawing out of him so much.

Unable to resist, you leaned up on your tiptoes to dot his jawline and cheeks with a smattering of swift, loud kisses.

"Hey now. Don't smear me up with those sauce-stained digits, woman..."

Despite his put-upon grumbling, Hiromi didn't push you away. Far from it - he simply hugged you tighter, that low gravelly chuckle of genuine amusement rumbling against your sternum as he buried his face into the wild tumble of your hair.

"Actually, that's fine...I don't really mind getting a little dirty if it means immersing myself fully in you again after being away all day," he added in a conspiratorial murmur, so low and velvet-rough that you swore your skin was going to unbraid at the seams right then and there.

Before you could even begin to properly sputter out a response to that deliciously wicked innuendo, Hiromi had already captured your lips with his own in a long, smoldering kiss.

It was intoxicating how thoroughly he could deconstruct your bones into molten puddles with just one nibbling caress of those sinfully skilled lips and wicked tongue.

Eventually though, desperate twin gasps for air forced you to draw apart again - both of your chests heaving a touch raggedly.

You stared up at Hiromi through your lashes, tracing the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw hungrily with your gaze.

Yes, having him back in your arms whole and healthy after the long day apart filled your heart to overflowing every single time.

You drank in the sight of that beloved face, marveling at how unfairly ruggedly handsome features could possibly be...until your wondering gaze slid over to the living room couch where your precious newborn baby girl still slumbered peacefully beside Hiromi's hastily discarded work satchel.

Something behind Hiromi's eyes melted as he followed your line of vision over to that tiny bundled form.

Slowly, gingerly, he disentangled himself from your embrace to drift over towards the couch - long legs eating up the distance with a few unhurried strides.

There was an almost palpable shift in the tenor of his expression as Hiromi eased down onto his knees beside the sofa.

All the hard edges and angular harshness sloughed away, replaced with something infinitely softer and more tender than you'd ever witnessed from him before.

He held himself with infinite care, shoulders rolled slightly inwards as one rough fingertip extended to ever-so delicately trace the fine wisps of downy hair fanning out across your daughter's tiny brow.

Hiromi seemed to positively crave with every fiber of his being as he hovered protectively beside her, committing every tiny detail to permanent memory with those rapt, soulful eyes.

A lump rose swiftly in your throat at the poignant sight of your strong, brash, powerhouse of a husband humbled into devoted reverence before this impossibly fragile new life you'd created together.

You watched him watching her - the most cynical, jaded parts of Hiromi's soul visibly falling away layer by layer.

A profound sense of inner peace smoothed the deep trenches scored across his brow as he inhaled the sweet, powdery scent of your slumbering infant on a ragged exhale.

Hiromi remained that way for long minutes, seemingly lost to the outside world, perfectly content to simply drink in her perfect existence with every sense.

"Hey, Hiro..." you spoke up at last in a hushed murmur, warmth swelling in your chest until it threatened to burst free in a riot of multi-colored ribbons and chiming bells.

"I think it's time to get our little princess transferred to her crib now. You don't want to miss another second of your evening snuggle time with her favorite napping partner, right?"

Hiromi lifted his head sharply at your words, slightly startled as if just now remembering you even stood there observing this quiet tableau.

His plush mouth curved into the most soul-rending, adoring smile you'd ever seen grace his typically gruff features.

It was downright incandescent, lighting him up from a place deeper than you even realized he possessed before now.

"Right...of course. Come to papa, sweetheart."

With supreme gentleness, Hiromi gathered up your daughter's downy form against the broad sloping plane of his torso, cradling her with infinite care.

He pressed his lips to her crown in a lingering brush of devotion before standing with her protectively swaddled in his arms.

Just before vanishing around the corner towards the nursery, Hiromi paused to look back over his shoulder at you.

He seemed to drink in your softened expression and warm smile, letting loose one more quietly contented rumble of masculine affection just for you alone.

“You both are...my everything”

Hiromi mouthed silently, pouring every ounce of depth and solemnity into those five words before continuing on his way, looking for all the world like a veritable god radiating inner tranquility simply from the world-tilting privilege of shepherding his child for even a few brief moments.

Yes, you mused while turning back to continue cooking preparations - you doubted you'd ever seen or experience anything quite as heart-rendingly beautiful and precious as Hiromi in full, unguarded daddy mode.

[softshuji]

Ran misses it.

And honestly it's only hair, it grows back. But there are moments when he looks in the mirror after rolling out of bed in the morning, and his hand comes up to tug at his scalp and meets nothing but the short tufts of purple-navy dyed hair still clinging to his neck from the one side where it's been pressed to the pillow.

You like touching it often. It's a daily ritual almost, something you've slipped into in time and he suspects you do it for him as much as yourself, a way to say things haven't changed- even if he feels like they have. You'll scratch at his scalp, run your nails across the skin, a light tug and pull that has a groan bubbling in his chest as he drinks coffee every morning and lazily rolls onto his stomach to pull you back against his chest for the umpteenth time that morning.

He never mentions it and you don't ask, whether he does miss the 'old him' sometimes, a little younger, more sporadic, the zest and vitality of life still evident in his smooth clear skin, neatly gelled braids that hang down by his shoulders, and a baton that he twirls around often to intimidate just about anyone.

But he's older now, wiser in ways that can't be explained, a lifetime later after everything he's seen and done and experienced, on the cusp of a life with you that he loves, truly loves, despite wondering at what point he began to change into this other him.

And maybe it isn't actually about the hair. Maybe that's just a rationale, because he is just like that. Rational, smart, wise and clever to a fault, mature and responsible as you always expect him to be. But he wonders, when he lifts a hand to rub at his neck or catches the reflection of himself in the window- whether it means anything between the two of you that he's changed so much over the years and you've watched him grow, both of them that is, the three of you encircling each other and tied inexplicably.

'Hey you,' you say now, leaning down to him in the chair, your arms coming around his neck to rest along his chest as he leans back against your soft skin. He smiles instinctively, a tender and precious thing that comes so easily that you return just as quickly, a peck to his lips and the whisper of a kiss to his forehead and cheek, warm and sugar flecked with the lingering scent of coffee on his skin.

It's almost self conscious. How he averts his gaze, slides it back to his phone from you, and then back again, the reflection of you now shining in the shimmery lilac of his eyes.

'Hey yourself sweet thing,' he says, the flash of a dimple in his cheek.

'You're quiet today, something on your mind?'

'Mhm? No, just thinking Princess.'

You raise an eyebrow, mirth glittering in the smile that you pretend to hide. 'Oh yeah? How terrible for all of us.' And your tongue peeks out as you wink, as if it's conspiratorially, as if you're both in on some joke, because you know it's always been like that, the two of you sharing secrets and dreams that you hide from the world, tittering together like forbidden lovers.

'Oh that's what we're doing today huh? You're being a brat now?'

'Mhm, maybe. What, you going to do something? Here I was actually here for a reason too.'

'Oh?'

'Just came to say something that's all.' And you lower your lips to the back of his neck, warmth pressed to his skin, at the incline where his hair curls along his nape, your lips skimming the fine hair that trail along the underside, soft and wispy.

'Go on, I'm intrigued.' And he raises a hand to hold your wrist now draped across his chest, leaning back into your touch, his thumb grazing the inside veins and your heart jumping at his touch.

'Mhm, just wanted to say I love you, my handsome, beautiful thing. Never forget it.' You mumble and press a kiss to his shoulder, your hand temporarily pulling the collar of his shirt to plant a peppering of kisses along his freckled and golden honey flecked skin, moving along till your lips meet the angular slope of his jaw.

His heart stutters again for the umpteenth time, a slow and deliberate warmth seeping into his bones, and just like that, nothing else matters, nothing else means anything when he turns to slide his hands around your hips to pull you to his lap, your bodies flush and warm and pressing together.

And he smiles, and the faint voice in his head quiets to a stop, drowned by the lilting cadence of your voice by his ear, your love spilling into his heart where it belongs.

[rewh0re]

THE SOULMATE THEORY ; MIKAGE REO

- wc: 1.1k, aged up characters (like 19-20) doesn't dive into explicit/hardcore smut but is definitely suggestive in some parts so I'd say readers 16 and above may read this, indirect mentions of sexual activities, fluff, reader is called a minx (affectionate), a little bit of that one old greek myth about soulmates, it's true that once you use em dash you can't stop.

a/n: literally got the idea at the doctor's office don't even. REBLOGS + FEEDBACKS ARE APPRECIATED!! also tagging: @chigirizzz (this is that one reo fic I was telling you about where you asked me to tag you)

The room was dark. The only source of light—though bright but not enough to light up the whole room—was from the digital clock on the bedside table. '12:42,’ it read in bright neon red numbers. It was also quiet, so much so that two pairs of steady breathings could be heard.

One belonged to Reo and the other, to you.

"Are you asleep?" You whisper—soft and delicate—careful as to not wake your lover up if he indeed was asleep but loud enough to let him know of your own sleepless state.

Your eyes have been long adjusted to the darkness and you can make out the silhouette of his face. The length of his nose and his eyelashes, the slight part of his lush lips, his sharp and angular jaw—truly—he was majestic.

"No," his eyes fluttered open and his lips turned upward. His smile, the gentleness of which never failed to make your heart beat ten times faster, which never failed to make your stomach feel all giddy with the butterflies that erupted.

"I was thinking about your face from earlier and the various sounds you made too actually. Sweet as honey to me but I'm afraid Mrs. Tanaka might complain come morning," gentle tone was overruled by mischief. That was Mikage Reo, a gem of a person for a second and a force to be reckoned with the next.

"Please don't oh my god," you covered your face—now tinted with embarrassment—with the comforter you and Reo shared as you whined in protest.

The activities from an hour back rushing into your brain, playing like a movie sequence. As foggy as your mind was earlier, you were surprised that you remembered everything so vividly. You could still feel his rough, calloused and much larger hands tracing every curve of your body as if to memorise its shape. You could feel the lingering kisses on your neck, your shoulder, your chest, the now purple marks left with pride. You would have to cover them before work in the morning. You could hear your own sounds of pleasure and his groans as if to say more, more, more. You could feel it all. You could feel him. Your face flushed a deeper shade of fuchsia as you gulped, trying to get the images out of your head.

"You act like we haven't done this a million times before my love," he laughed slowly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth.

"Come on, look at me. Don't shy away now," he pulled the blanket off of you, removing your hands from your face as he hugged you.

"You're incorrigible, you know that right?" You huffed out in faux annoyance, snuggling against his chest, his arms a veil for your figure.

He laughed then, a laugh full of mischief and adoration and something akin to acknowledgement for your previous statement.

You laid like that, in silence. There was peace that came with the soft lub-dub of your synchronised heartbeats and your gentle breaths.

You were the one to break it first.

"Have you ever heard about that one Greek mythology? about soulmates?" You spoke, your cool fingers tracing gentle and soothing shapes on Reo's bare back which was painted with scratches from your nails.

"Can't say I have. Care to tell me?" He looked for your eyes as he pulled up the slipping comforter before pulling you closer to his chest. His warmth engulfed you whole, a comfortable shield from the much cooler surroundings.

"Well there is this theory," you started, face softening into affection as you laid against Reo's—albeit hard—but comfortable chest.

"It says that when Zeus created humans, he originally created them with two of everything. So two heads, two pairs of both the limbs, you get it. Their souls were one too. Fearing the power that these humans could possess, Zeus split them, including their souls, in half and scattered them around the world. The humans—as we now know them to be—would search far and wide, across oceans and lands to look for their other half. It is said that this other half is your soulmate and you search for them throughout your life," you smiled as you looked up at him, engrossed in your little story.

"Well that's just cruel of Zeus now, isn't it? I mean, what if someone doesn't find their soulmate?" Reo pouted and that made you chuckle a little.

"Maybe. Maybe not. It is just a story at the end of the day and how you decide to perceive a story totally depends on you," you jabbed his chest with your finger.

"I think I've found my other half," he stated with pride.

"Oh? Is that so? I wonder who it could be," you made a face as if you were thinking, tapping your chin with your forefinger.

"Oh I bet you do," in an instant your boyfriend was hugging you tighter than ever, his face buried in the crook between your neck and your shoulder.

His soft kisses were ticklish and they made you giggle. Your fingers further messed up his already tousled hair.

"You want me to say it out loud so bad don't you, you little minx," he whispered in your neck as you hummed in response.

"I think I've found my soulmate in you."

"I also think I've found mine in you Reo," your gentle voice was like ambrosia to his ears. He could drown in it, a bit was never enough.

He trailed kisses down the side of your face, starting from your ear, going down your jaw and finally a little bite on your neck. He licked on it in order to soothe the area. A new addition to the marks he had left earlier.

"Ow Reo!" You playfully smacked his head which forced him to separate from your neck.

"I already have enough marks to cover!" You puffed your cheek, barely hiding the smile that was begging to come up to the surface.

"You'll beg for them again tomorrow," he winked at you.

You could only roll your eyes. What would you even say? Deep in your heart, even you knew that he was right. "What is wrong with you?"

"Just that I'm irrevocably in love with you," he tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear, shutting his eyes.

"Unfortunately, I happen to love you too."

Teasing glances from your coworkers and friends due to the remnants from the events of the night would be a concern for later. For now, sleep would come easy to you because here you were, with Reo, in his arms. He was your safe haven and you were his and truly, whatever in the world could ever change that?

[fushiglow]

a short fic for the prompt: satosugu + first time

hope you enjoy the prelude to come get your honey. it's probably not as fluffy as you hoped, anon, i'm sorry!! satosugu trying to heal the rift using their bodies is important to the original fic, so i wanted to establish that dynamic here and i really love the result

still, thank you so much for the opportunity to return to this special fic 🫶 listen to 'my only love' by porij while reading!!

If Suguru hadn’t been awake, straining to hear them, the footsteps padding along the hallway would have been inaudible. Satoru was back late again. Blinking into the blue light of the alarm clock on his nightstand, Suguru frowned. At approaching 3am, he wondered why Satoru hadn’t simply booked a hotel. Actually, he wondered why Satoru bothered coming back to the dormitories at all these days. It certainly wasn’t to see Suguru, judging by the way he crept around the place as silently as the grave. It was a thoughtfulness Satoru only showed when he thought no one could see him. Suguru saw him though. Always had. He saw Satoru then and cursed all the times he’d pestered the boy to be more considerate of others. He wanted the Satoru from before back. He wanted the Satoru who wouldn’t have thought twice about barging into his room at some ungodly hour. He wanted the Satoru who would have crawled into bed with Suguru and held him, personal space be damned. But things had been different since the summer. There was a distance between them that hadn’t been there before, and Suguru didn’t know whether it was he or Satoru that was the cause of it. Maybe it was both. The pair of them had always been joined at the hip, closer than was perhaps typical for boys their age. Part of Suguru had always known, but he’d felt no rush to acknowledge it. After all, they were the strongest. They had all the time in the world. Until Satoru died. If Satoru hadn’t recognised the shape of the thing between them for what it was back then, Suguru knew he did now — he knew, precisely because Satoru didn’t come to his room anymore. It was such a Satoru way to care and, against his better judgement, Suguru resented it. They’d been given a second chance, so why had it driven them apart instead of together? Why, when Suguru wanted nothing more than for Satoru to be selfish, had he chosen to be selfless instead? The soft click of Satoru’s door in the hallway beyond echoed around Suguru’s brain like a gunshot. The terror of it was enough for him to decide it didn’t really matter who was at fault. A thousand nights spent staring at his bedroom door, wishing for Satoru to walk through it, wouldn’t bridge the chasm between them. If Satoru wanted to be selfless, Suguru would be selfish in his stead.

He didn’t knock; didn’t want to lose his nerve during the wait. When he opened Satoru’s door, it didn’t surprise Suguru to find the Six Eyes already locked onto him. What did surprise Suguru, however, was the rush of fiery want that burned through him at the sight of Satoru’s strong torso, all smooth planes and hard edges in the low light. It incinerated any lingering anxiety he felt. ‘Hey.’ Satoru’s voice was uncharacteristically soft, though he didn’t look the least bit ashamed by his halfway undressed state. ‘Did I wake you?’ Suguru’s gaze caught on the summer skies captured within Satoru’s eyes, twin pools swirling with concern and curiosity and something else entirely. His body moved across the room of its own accord. There was no resistance when Suguru brought his hands to those broad shoulders and pushed Satoru down onto the bed. There was no resistance when he climbed into Satoru's lap and seized that angular jaw in a bruising grasp either. Blinking up at Suguru, wide-eyed and unguarded in his awe, Satoru was unexpectedly docile. It fed shameful ideas in Suguru’s mind. He wondered if Satoru would let him take anything he wanted; if he could find the limits of this limitless boy. So, perhaps Suguru wouldn’t have said it if he cared about Satoru less than he did. 'Stop me if you don’t want me to kiss you, Satoru.’ In hindsight, he probably should have waited another moment — but Satoru’s lips fell open in a silent gasp and Suguru could resist no longer. It wasn’t Suguru’s first kiss, but he could tell it was Satoru’s. Not that it mattered when Satoru had always been a frustratingly quick learner — when he was enthusiastic enough to make Suguru preen, almost overwhelmingly eager as he grabbed at Suguru’s pyjamas, grinding their bodies together with a muffled moan. It was such a relief that Suguru couldn’t find it in him to slow things down. He chased his salvation with the same ferocity that Satoru chased whatever it was he was seeking in Suguru’s body. As they gathered speed, Suguru knew they were fooling themselves, but the thrill of falling into each other subdued all rational thought. Reaching terminal velocity, Suguru made a promise to himself. They would talk. Satoru deserved his heart and his mind as well as his body, and Suguru wanted to give it all. He wanted to give himself to Satoru entirely. Not yet though. Not when he felt happy for the first time in months. Not when it would only shatter the fragile peace he'd finally found in Satoru’s arms. They would talk. They would. Just not yet.

if you wanna submit a prompt or request, head over to my retrospring — make sure to read the guidelines first!

[aroseyetbloomedwrites]

Hope in Roses [ A Founders Fanfiction - Flavien de Fortemps/Driancoin de Haillenarte ]

Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV

Category: M/M but Gen fic I guess.

Rating: T

Pairing: Flavien de Fortemps/Driancoin de Haillenarte

Characters: Flavien de Fortemps, Driancoin de Haillenarte, Francel de Haillenarte makes an appearance.

Additional tags: Mild blood, pre-canon, pre calamity, The Dragonsong War, light angst

Authors note: Inspired by the Valentione's day event. Part of what may be a working series by the name of One Thousand Years Ago. Squint for the Romance.

Ao3 Link: Here

Summary:

“No. I will call them nothing, in the absence of hope.” Driancoin looks upwards, and over them, beneath the shining sun, he will see a glimmer of a dome in that brief moment that protects the Last Vigil.

Sneak Peek:

From the distance there, beneath yellow sun, he could see him, with hair of spun flax, nay even more interwoven with gold than that. threaded from Heaven’s gate? And he would be able to tell, beneath the fringe of his precious hair, that gems would be set into a face, glistening eyes of piercing determination, of discernment, of kindness. The sun bore down onto a steeped back, gold hung loose about a honey face, and light lashes blinked away sweat, a droplet of which curved over an angular jaw and hung from his pointed chin. Beside the hunched form, arose an imposing manor, grey faced against the stretch of blue which would be the sky, a smoky whisp of cloud drifting in the far-ground, curling around a bare peak in the distance. Perhaps it too, would have brethren to join in the distance.

Long fingers dig into warm, moist soil, reaching past the top of a dandelion sprout to it’s roots, and plucking it up, the yellow sproutling comes free, and the man, with dirt on his grey trousers, sets it aside into a pile at his side. He remains hunched where he is, taking the end of the scarf tied around his neck, and flipping it up against his chin, dabbing at a streak of sweat as the sun bores down on his back, he drags the end of the cloth up to his temple, and it glistens no longer beneath the intimidating rays.

There are rows of sprouts, green with budding, serrated baby leaves of a red hue. Tell tale of sproutling roses that he works at. When one looks further down the patch aside the manor, rose bushes of varying size stand at attention; at the far end, gnarled, twisting, thorned roses grow in full bloom, as though they have been there since founding, and perhaps they might have. The petals red as blood, and their stems unforgiving and dark. Even their leaves are like knives. The blossoms are small, dot the green-black leaves and curling stems, wild and free. A gift, once upon a time, from the Dravanians. It hurts to look at them. Aside those, growing to attention, in cultured rows, a demure set of roses, their blooms are larger, open faced and loose, baring their filaments to the world openly, easy to polinate, and their red borders on pink. Mountain roses, from Coerthas, tempered to cooler climes, but surviving in the humid summer of the city. The soil they are cultured in remains cool beneath their leaves, and the staff waters them, if… Driancoin does not. So it is, the man who gently reaches out towards a bright green stem, lifting up towards the expanse of the sky, that very roseling spared from the spread of weed, as it grows diminutive in hammered, and carved, wooden planters beside the other rows, and rows, and lines, and lines of roses that mark the renowned pagoda of Haillenarte. And Flavien, he beholds the care, and attention, his dearest companion holds for the namesake of the House.

With their manors across eachother, it was only natural Flavien would see the knight most often. Driancoin was a quiet, and regal soul, firm with the sword, strong with the shield, and he was an honor to fight beside. But as he comes around the wellspring of a fountain that separates their Manors, will see the defaced way he looks upon his roselings. They were close, as brothers in arms would be, should be, could be, but there was that inkling within Flavien, as steel-toed boots pace closer, that he could be… even more so. That he wanted to be, but what of Driancoin? Who would sometimes break fast with him, cross sword with him, lay in a grassy knoll with him? His face was open and serene at all times, sweet and rounded slightly at the cheeks. He does not smile as easily as he used to, but then-none of they do, the four, and, missing Ser Haldrath, more like as not.

Driancoin looks up, as Flavien skirts around to his side, his cheeks are red in the noon sun. Flavien’s hair is so dark it is almost reflective, but Driancoin does not shield his eyes, they merely glance downward, towards his moving mouth, but blood rushes in his pointed ears, and he cannot hear what it is Flavien says to him. If anything, he flushes even more, looks away, and licks his salty lips. Flavien can see red over pink, and his chest expands with air on a deep breath.

“My apologies, I—did not hear that.” Driancoin sounds like a cool breeze through a crystal chime. Soft. Airy. Lilting on a song. He puts his hands to his knees, and slowly gets to his feet, unfolding, like the rose. He gives a sway as of in a breeze, but Flavien does not help him. They are knights true, Driancoin would hardly accept it.

Flavien offers a very small smile, the blizzard of his eyes cool Driancoin marginally. “Merely, that I wondered for what you planted more for? Perhaps, ‘tis another type?”

A deduction based on descending order, but for what, or why Driancoin wanted more was beyond him. The man, he puts dirt covered fingers to blond hair, briefly brushing the strands from his warm forehead, and endearingly, smudging soil against his temple before when he releases his hair, it sways back over it. Then he turns away, and his side profile cuts a regal visage, the sun glows from the crown of his head like a halo, but they, none of them, are angels. Not even Driancoin. Flavien at first does not follow the sidelong look Driancoin puts upon his garden, instead looking at his eyes, the blues as deep as an unfrozen ocean, and just as impenetrable. Then, he looks too. Unto the little roselings, sticking straight up from their dark soil. Hopeful.

“Do not… Tell anyone, ser Flavien.”

Flavien does not look back, and Driancoin does not pare him a glance either.

“I shan’t.” Is all he says.

Silence rings in his ears, a breeze curls inky strands about his long ears. Driancoin speaks evenly.

“They are spliced.”

Flavien finally looks away from the garden, to Driancoin, who elaborates a little further.

“I took cuttings from the Dravanian bushes, and from the Coerthan, and with a little slice, wedged them together. They grew around each other, in harmony. I do not know what they will look like, as their lives will intertwine.”

Flavien tucks a hand into his trouser pocket, one by one, his fingers curl into a fist, mostly hidden from view. But, Driancoin does not look at him.

“Will you name them?” Flavien asks him.

“No. I will call them nothing, in the absence of hope.” Driancoin looks upwards, and over them, beneath the shining sun, he will see a glimmer of a dome in that brief moment that protects the Last Vigil.

Morning comes, in the way that the sky above will lighten from bruised purple, to a grey blue. Dalamud glows warm in the sky, ever present, ever watching, as the true moon passes into a peek of sun over the east. It is cool outside, in such a way that dew will coalesce from the previous evenings warmth, upon just about every smooth surface. It falls heavy, reminiscent of rain, from leaves which turn over beneath the weight of it. There is a sweet call of a Mourning Dove, its mate will match it. The morning will drag onwards and upwards, from young to old, and Flavien, comfortable in his chair, holding the stem of his coffee cup, will note his companions absence. Driancoin does not join him this morning, as oft he does. So it is, that he shall pull on his evening coat, and halfboots, and sweep to the outers of the sleepy world.

Driancoin is outside again, hovering by his gardens far end, stooping, and straightening, putting his back and shoulders into something. He wears nothing but a long sleeved tunic and trousers, riding boots tied up to his knees. Flavien thinks, something is terribly wrong, and as he rounds the fountain, he can see past Driancoin, the stems of his Dravanian’s have been snipped away, and the golden knight is taking shovel to them, hacking away at their roots and prying them up from the ground. The blossoms are littered around the gnarling branches ground, trampled in some places, their little petals dispersed and withered, glistening in the rising sun. The rest of the garden had been spared.

“What has happened?” Flavien sounds somewhat harried, breath aches in his lungs, as he watches Driancoin upend his garden.

“A new age.” Driancoin murmurs, dropping his shovel, letting it clatter resoundingly through the misty air, and with bare hands, he reaches into the bush, wrapping slender fingers around the branches of his thorned roses, blood slicks his hands as he pulls the rest of it up by hand from the ground. Flavien reaches out, as if perhaps he could stop his companion, as if perhaps he could soothe him. That shoulder jumps, fine muscle flinching beneath his large hand as he turns Driancoin partially around, and finds his face is a blank slate, his slack mouth moves again. “Dissent.” He pulls his shoulder out of Flavien’s hand, so that he can round on his Dravanian roses, staring at their fallen blossoms. He drops the bushel he hold. “I will hold this secret in my heart, and die with it.”

And Flavien finds his courage in that moment, a pile of blossoms at their feet, bushes on their sides, piled unceremoniously, but not with anger. Driancoin never handles his roses, thus, Flavien puts his arm around Driancoin’s shoulders, and the shorter of the two, tips, just slightly, against him. The mist is clearing, aether static in the air, as he will raise his arms, and crimson drips from the tips of his fingers, from deep cuts over already scarred fingers and knuckles, creating rivulets and pathways to his elbows. Flavien lets him bleed a moment longer. Let them feel.

“Not alone.”

Treachery in their veins.

One Thousand Years later. In a neighboring land. Roses will bloom, their blossoms are large, crimson, but not like blood. They are vibrant, beloved by butterfly and bee. Growing beneath a canopy of green, from whence their original lands had banished them. Dappled by a warm sun through deciduous trees. Their stems grow sturdy and dark, their thorns are small, but sharp, protective, but not as of a weapon. And, a regal man will stand aside, will watch from afar, as Roses which once stood proud at his doorstep, were beheld by loving reveler. He brushes away whisps of blond from beneath the brim of his green cavalier, humidity clings to his honey skin and sweet sweat marks a trail over a round cheek, and dark blue eyes not unlike an unfrozen ocean look out over the Roses his family only ever beheld before the Calamity.

Francel de Haillenarte feels hope renewed.

Driancoin lives on.

[hypersonic04]

All Of The Girls You’ve Loved Before

The second instalment in the Taylor-inspired one shot series. I really, really love this one! Enjoy my lovelies <3

Word Count: 1,501

Smoothing my hands over the silk sitting on my hips, I smile to myself in the mirror. For the first time in weeks, I’m actually dressed up, and Ross and I are going on our first date since tour ended.

“Are you ready, love?”

“Coming!”

With one last check of my purse and a swipe of lipgloss, I head downstairs. The heels of my shoes click on the tiles.

I spot him waiting for me at the bottom of the staircase, back resting against the wall and arms folded across his broad chest. He stands up immediately when he sees me coming, and I can’t help but blush when I see his jaw become slack. I grin uncontrollably, holding the skirt of my dress up as I step down carefully.

“Wow.” is all he can say, holding his hand out for me. “You look…”

I tilt my head up to him as I reach the ground, smiling sweetly at him as he stumbles around his words.

“Beautiful.” He decides on, leaning down and pressing a kiss to my lips. His eyes don’t leave me for a second, his gentle hand in mine twirling me around.

“Thank you,” I squeeze his hand gently. “Are you ready to leave?”

“I just need to get something from upstairs, do you mind getting the car keys for me? I think they’re in the kitchen.”

“Yeah, sure.” I nod with a smile, turning around and heading into the kitchen.

“Ross?” I call, covering my mouth with a smile.

“Yeah, darlin’?”

I laugh airily to myself.

Bouquets of red roses cover every last inch of the kitchen counters, tied with silk bows and presented in boxes.

I turn around to see him leant in the doorway, a hand in his pocket and a proud smile on his face. Shaking my head at him, I walk into his arms that he holds open for me.

“I can’t believe you.” I grin, “You shouldn’t have.”

“I definitely should have.” He mumbles into my hair, pressing kisses. “You deserve all the roses in the world.”

I pull away from his chest for a second, meeting his warm gaze. His eyes are like honey, sweet and pouring into mine.

“Thank you. They’re gorgeous.” I run my fingertips through the front of his hair, standing on my tiptoes and pressing a soft kiss to his lips. His hands find my waist, holding my close to him as his thumbs slipping over the satin fabric.

“We need to leave.” I mumble against his lips with a smile. He groans into the kiss and I have to work hard not to call the date of and drag him to bed. “Come on, let’s go.” I sigh.

He opens the car door for me, holding my hand as he helps me get in and closes it behind me. I watch him intently as he rounds the car, tall and dressed smartly, hair pulled back into a bun.

His hand is firmly on my thigh the whole way there, tracing circles on the exposed skin, stealing glances as he drives.

“I missed this.” I smile softly, placing my hand over his on my thigh.

“I missed you.” He replies, glancing at me. He brings my hand to his lips and presses a kiss to the back of it, his beard tickling my skin.

He makes sure he’s there at the car door again when we reach the restaurant, hand in my immediately. I fight the ridiculously large grin that threatens to expose my giddiness. Ross is always such a gentleman, and it would be a lie if I said that I didn’t love the princess treatment he insists on giving me.

We get settled across from each other at the table he’d booked weeks in advance, when he was still on tour, in fact. The restaurant is lit but candles, dark and moody as I stare at him over the rim of my glass, sat in the booth seat. Shadows are cast over his angular face, his deep set brow and pursed lips making me feel like a teenage girl with a crush. Yes, we’ve been together for years, but the feeling never seems to really go away.

“I’m so hungry.” I hun as I finally tear my eyes away from him, picking up a menu.

“What do you fancy?”

Before I can reply, I’m cut off by an unfamiliar voice.

“Oh my goodness, Ross? Is that you?”

She’s tall, blonde, really pretty. I feel myself breathe in sharply, looking from her to my boyfriend. He meets my eyes for a second, turning around to talk ti her. They exchange hello’s, before she insists on a hug.

“You alright?” He asks her as he stands up and awkwardly accepts her hug, one arm coming around her back, his fingertips centimetres away from her skin. I feel myself swallow deeply, averting my eyes for a second. “Y/n, this is Alex. Alex, this is my girlfriend, Y/n.”

“Oh, so sorry for interrupting.” She glances at me quickly, the first time she’s acknowledged my existence since crashing our date. “How have you been?”

She brings a hand to rest on his arm and I find myself smirking as I flick through the menu. The expression on Ross’ face tells me everything I need to know.

“I’m good, really good, thank you. Hope everything’s going well with… what was it again?”

“Modelling, how could you forget? We came here the night after I got that big job!” She laughs loudly, drawing glances to our corner of the restaurant. “Anyways, I should probably leave you to it. We should go for drinks soon!”

He looks at me desperately and I smile, nodding at her profusely.

“Yes, we definitely should!” I grin sweetly at her, watching her gaze trail from Ross to me. “It’s been so lovely talking to you.”

She raises her eyebrows and cleats her throat a little, before squeezing his shoulder gently and making her exit. Ross just looks at me for a second before taking a seat.

“I’m so sorry, I had no idea-“

“It’s okay.” I smile. “You weren’t to know.”

“I didn’t know what to do, I just…” his voice trails off as he scratches the back of his neck.

“Who was she, anyway?” I keep my eyes fixed on the menu, trying my best to seem like the chill, unbothered girlfriend. My swirling in my stomach says otherwise.

“An ex-girlfriend. It wasn’t anything serious, we only went out for a few months, when the band was just starting out.”

“Ah, right.” I nod, pursing my lips. “A model, huh?”

His cheeks flush pink and I smirk at him, a giggle escaping my lips.

“I was young, it was all new, you know, with the band and everything.”

“I get it.”

We sit in silence for a few minutes and I spot her across the other side of the room, stood with friends and laughing that same, loud laugh. We are so different, I think to myself. She’s a model, for goodness sakes. She’s blonde, ridiculously tall, confident. I find myself wondering whether Ross’ other girlfriends were all like this.

“Hey, stop thinking. You’re doing that thing.”

“Doing what thing?” I look up, his voice taking my by surprise.

“That thing where you think too much and go quiet.” I laugh at his choice of words, scoffing. “If this is about Alex…”

“It’s not, I promise.” I purse my lips with a nod, setting the menu down and finishing the last in the glass of Prosecco. “Can we order?”

We place our food orders and make small talk, but my mind is bursting with questions.

“Did you bring all your girlfriends here?” I ask in a moment of silence. He inhales deeply before shaking his head.

“No, of course not.” He reaches for my hand over the table. “I’ve only ever been here once before, with Alex. She got really drunk, all I can remember is that the food was amazing.”

“Did you buy her roses too?”

He looks over my whole face, eyes drinking in every inch of my features. I feel my cheeks flush pink under his gaze, his thumb caressing the skin under his touch.

“Never.” He shakes his head. “I was a bad boyfriend, i can’t lie. I was so immature, more bothered about whether George had got enough beers in than anything else.” He glances down for a second. “I knew with you, it had to be different.”

“Different?”

“I had to grow up, treat you properly, like a lady.”

I giggle, blushing even more if possible. He kisses my knuckles as he leans across from me.

“Well, I’m the luckiest girl in the world, I think.” I smile. “And I’m glad you had girlfriends before me.”

“Really?” He frowns a little. I nod in reply.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” He raises his eyebrows, nodding. “None of them were you, though.”

“And none of them loved you like I do.”

[modern-inheritance]

Workaround (Modern Inheritance Short)

Islanzadí rubbed her forehead. Brom’s news of Kialandí was…difficult. She couldn’t truly say she felt happy her elder brother was dead. Relieved, maybe, but less so due to his death and more for the conclusion of a long, painful situation no peace could be found in.

Blagden fluttered to her shoulder when the Queen stood, her slim fingers flicking him away from worrying the edge of her eyebrow with a barely parted beak. She smoothed the fine hairs down with a thumb, a sudden heart clenching pang jolting her chest as she remembered the movement being one of his little quirks.

Lost in thought, Islanzadí reached the door of her study and pulled it open. Oromis and Glaedr and likely been informed already, but…she wanted their guidance. How to handle the news being released through the darkened pines.

Someone was already standing in the doorway.

Islanzadí froze.

Arya was…taller.

Her emerald eyes were still backlit by that brilliant fire, but they were framed now by a face that held a touch more. A bit more angular, sharper about the jaw and cheekbones. Skin darkened to a rich honey from exposure to a sun and sky not blocked by towering trees.

Rings around those green eyes. Lost sleep. Bloodshed. The look Evandar had the day after every battle. Maybe just a little hollow at her cheeks.

Not yet truly full grown. But at the start of the second surge of growth, maturation of her features.

Her child was growing up.

And Islanzadí couldn’t say a damn thing.

She wasn’t even supposed to be there.

The door opening seemed to have been just as much of a shock to the combat liason as her presence had been to Islanzadí. Arya quickly drew herself up, shoulders as square as possible with one arm tucked in a sling, and snapped her gaze to a spot over the Queen’s shoulder.

“I have correspondence from the Varden’s council for Queen Islanzadí. I assured them it would be presented to her attendant personally.” Islanzadí’s heart stuttered again. What on earth was the girl thinking, going against direct orders and breaking the laws of her banishment? Why would she tell the council she would personally–

Arya bowed slightly and held out a wax sealed envelope…

To Blagden.

“Please see that this reaches the Queen’s hands at the earliest convenience.”

And, just as if it were completely and utterly normal, Blagden gave an approximation of a similar bow and took the missive in his beak.

Both straightened, the white raven shifting to grasp the letter in the clutch of one of his taloned feet. Arya snapped to and held a formal elven salute until Blagden let out a series of pops and bobbed his head in obvious dismissal.

“Stars watch over you as well, sir.” Arya released the salute, turned on her heel, and marched stiffly down the hall.

Islanzadí could only stare after her. A little dazed, a little angry, and, above all else, very confused.

[alula-fujotings]

KRBK– yakuza in love AU

Bakugō Katsuki wasn’t an idiot. Far from it. In fact, he’d graduated valedictorian and magna cum laude. Everything he tried he excelled at immediately. And though he despised people, he was never wanting for company. Yet, even with all these accolades, he couldn’t make sense of what was happening around him.

 

For one thing, a toddler was running toward him, tears in their round eyes, arms outstretched. On instinct, Katsuki took a step backward and didn’t look where he was going. He tripped over the curb and landed hard on his ass and then the kid collided into him, falling into his lap and hugging his slim torso.

 

“MAMA!” The child wailed, clinging to Katsuki with surprising strength.

 

Katsuki considered responding the way he normally would: shouting, cursing, and violence, but something stopped him before the first F-bomb could leave his lips. Instead, he pulled the kid from around his torso and held them up in the air under their armpits.

 

Their face was as red as their hair and their eyes took up most of the space on their face, full of tears. Those tear-filled eyes looked up at him with a combination of fear, longing, and love.

 

It grossed him out. But, he wasn’t completely heartless, contrary to popular belief. The kid was obviously under duress; the least he could do was take him to the police station. Then it could be their problem.

 

Suddenly though, he was surrounded by men in black suits. And they all had guns. Pointed at him.

 

“What the fu–” Something covered the lower half of his face and he was out before he could finish his question.

 

 

When Katsuki came to, he found himself in a warehouse, tied to a rickety chair. The knots were strong and dug into his ankles and wrists with every little movement. That didn’t stop him from trying to wriggle his way free. When that didn’t work, he settled for yelling.

 

“Yeah, that’s right to tie me up; otherwise, I’d kick your ass for kidnapping me!”

 

“I dare you motherfuckers to come out and try and approach me!”

 

“I ain’t no fucking snitch, so if this is some good cop, bad cop situation, I–”

 

The sound of footsteps cut Katsuki off.

 

They were slow and measured, as if the person walking had all day and then some. Immediately Katsuki was on guard. There was only one type of person that walked as if they owned the world. When the owner of those footsteps stopped in front of him, still partially cast in shadow, Katsuki felt something cold drip down his spine. He could tell that this was the boss, and if he was the kind of boss to kidnap children, then Katsuki was done for. But not without a fight.

 

“Name?”

 

The voice was deep and dripped over Katsuki like warm honey. He fought a shiver and gathered all the spit in his mouth before spitting at the boss’s feet. “None of your–”

 

“Bakugō Katsuki, 22 years old. Finished university at the top of his class, and yet hasn’t been able to find a steady job since.”

 

The familiar crackling of rage rippled through Katsuki’s bloodstream and he bared his teeth. “What are you, some kind of fucking stalker?!”

 

Silence.

 

Then Katsuki watched as shiny black shoes made their way closer to him. He looked up defiantly and had to bite his cheek from letting a gasp escape.

 

He’d already gathered that the person in charge was some kind of underworld guy; he’d already prepared himself to see scars, muscles, and tattoos galore but what he saw instead was the picture of class.

 

Red hair that begged to be noticed laid in waves to the boss’s shoulders. His wide eyes almost matched the color of his hair perfectly. His cheeks were round but the softness that would have allotted his face was canceled out by the hard set of his thick eyebrows and angular jaw. He stood tall, hands in his pockets as he assessed Katsuki in turn.

 

“Do you know why you’re here?” The man continued, ignoring Katsuki’s attempt to rile him up.

 

“If you do, then please fucking enlighten me,” Katsuki practically snarled.

 

The man let out a sigh looking somewhere over Katsuki’s head. “Search him.”

 

Hands suddenly landed on Katsuki’s shoulders and their fingers dug in hard. Before he knew it, he was stripped down to his boxers. During his stripping, the boss stood there stoically with his hands in his pockets. When he revealed his (rather large hands), they were covered in latex gloves.

 

“Kirishima-sama, are you sure that you want to dirty your hands with–”

 

“I don’t need  your assistance, Denki,” the boss, /Kirishima/, said, voice soft but full of reprimand. He tugged on the gloves until they snapped back into place. “I wouldn’t trust this task with anyone else.”

 

And then Katsuki was untied and his legs pushed up into the air. He could feel that cold feeling again seeping into his entire being and he cleared his throat. “Just what the fuck do you think you’re fucking doing, Shitty Hair?!”

 

“You have quite the mouth on you,” Kirishima said as he pulled off Katsuki’s boxers. Exposed to the cold air, Katsuki felt his already small dick shrivel up more.  “I wonder what else this mouth can do.”

 

Katsuki felt the tips of his ears heat and a pulse of interest in his lower belly. This Kirishima was just his type: broad and muscular, tall, presence that commanded the room, could command him.

 

Kirishima seemed to magically produce lubricant and doused his fingers in it before taking one of his lubed up fingers and circling Katsuki’s puckered entrance.

 

“YOU FUCKER! IF YOU FUCKING–Hnghh!” Katsuki’s outraged protests died when Kirishima sunk a single, thick finger inside him.

 

Kirishima’s finger made a circular motion inside him and Katsuki’s hips lifted to meet Kirishima’s finger. When Kirishima added a second finger and spread them apart, the burn brought Katsuki back to his senses.

 

“You’re fucking dead, you fucking bastard,” he snarled, trying to ignore how Kirishima’s fingers prodded him.

 

Rather than respond verbally, Kirishima simply smirked before withdrawing his fingers. Kirishima looked over Katsuki’s head and spoke to someone behind him. “All clear.”

Anger and humiliation swelled inside Katsuki like slime and he felt like he was suffocating slowly. Not only had he been violated, but his violation had been witnessed. Heat rushed through his entire face, neck, and ears and he struggled once more (in vain) against the ropes tying him to the chair. For his part, Kirishima ignored his struggling, instead crossing his arms and looking down his nose at Katsuki’s now shivering body.

“What were you doing on that bridge, Mr. Bakugō,” Kirishima asked, his tone making it clear he expected an answer.

“Talking a walk.” Katsuki told the half-lie easy enough. The full story was none of this asshole’s business.

“A walk, hm? Not looking for an escape out of the debt that your ex left you?” Kirishima sounded like he already knew the answer and Katsuki hated him even more for it.

“How do you know–“

“There’s very little I don’t know,” Kirishima interrupted smoothly, giving Katsuki an unimpressed look. “Now, answer the question.”

It might have been Katsuki’s imagination, but he swore he heard the cocking of a gun. And sure, he’d been on that bridge contemplating jumping off into the cold abyss, but getting shot was different than drowning.

“Just needed a place to…think,” Katsuki said finally, which was half-true.

Kirishima sighed as if he expected Katsuki to answer that way. “Did you know that your ex, Tetsutetsu, owes money to the League?”

Just hearing the name of the notorious gang had unwanted chills racking through Katsuki’s body. He didn’t know that, but he had his own experience with the League. It was something he still had nightmares about.

“And since he’s in the wind and named you as a contact…” Kirishima trailed off, waiting for Katsuki to understand what he was saying. It didn’t take a genius to know that Kirishima was telling him was as good as dead if he didn’t come up with the money that Tetsutetsu owed.

“So you’re going to kill me before they can, Shitty Hair?” Katsuki growled.

“I’ll pay for your debts, including the one left to you by Tetsutetsu,” Kirishima said suddenly.

Katsuki felt his mouth drop open in shock. He often tried not to think too hard about how deep in the hole he was, but it was thousands of yen. There was no way a man like Kirishima would offer to pay some stranger’s debt if he didn’t expect something in return. Katsuki’s stomach turned fitfully in his stomach and he tasted sour bile on the back of his tongue.

“I’d rather fucking die, asswipe,” he snarled, jerking against his restraints with renewed vigor.

Kirishima, the bastard, had the audacity to roll his eyes. “It seems that my son has… Taken a liking to you. If you agree to be his nanny of sorts, I’ll pay all your outstanding debts.”

Katsuki narrowed his eyes, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Kirishima crossed his arms, waiting for Katsuki to give him an answer. He hated children, couldn’t stand them, but if watching some brat was all that stood between him and death, the choice was clear.

“Tch, fine.”

[tryingtimi]

Writing Prompt!! “for you, i would”

Lost in The Lights

PART I | PART II

The continuation of that Modern AU with Cronyl and Avelyn. Or: I cannot leave angst out of anything, nor go with a full on smut for the first time lmao. But I’ve tried, because Like Crazy by Jimin was too strong of an inspiration.

MODERN AU | ANGST | A BIT NSFW | MENTION OF DEATH | SUICIDAL IG | WC:820

The various brightness of the night turned into a blur as Cronyl twisted his wrist to fasten his motorbike.

They raced against the purple light streaks of nightclub names, simmering red signs displaying the place’s opening hours, and eye-burning advertisements hanging heavy from the side of aged apartment complexes. The bike flew on hot concrete as if they were slicing through the neon jungle, creating a pathway. He could feel the merciless wind crawl and claw into his skin underneath the leather jacket, just like Avelyn did half an hour ago. His back still ached where her nails sunk into soft flesh, especially as she pressed herself fully to his back, every little bit of her trying to mold into him. Yet Cronyl embraced the sensation with more pleasure than agony.

Her strong hold tightened around his waist when he drove through a red light.

“A-a, save your reasons for later.” She sealed his lips with hers, pushing themselves both to stumble onto the musty apartment’s bed. She climbed atop him, cornering his waist with her tighs. Her heat spread along his skin, his veins flaming through his body.

Cronyl’s head thumped with the ghosts of the overly loud music as he recalled every little shard of their night.

“Promise me something,” she breathed as his lips trailed at her neck from the line of her soft jaw. He mumbled a half-hearted “anything” yet he meant it more than any of his vows in his life.

She sighed in content pleasure, when his teeth grazed her inner thigh, pushing her hips closer to him. There was no rush, only savoring, so he stopped for a moment to steal a glance at her bare body. Pink-blue light streamed inside the room from the neighboring commercial company, the shatter casting a pattern of thick, angular lines on her porcelain-like skin he ornated with kisses. Muted rain fell from the sky outside, the drops reflecting on her like a neverending waterfall of desire. She caged her lip with her teeth while she laced her fingers into his long black locks.

“Don’t try to save me,” she gasped when Cronyl slid a finger inside. ”Wherever tonight goes, don’t save me. Stay me with for a little while to lose ourselves. But never try to save me from what’s to come. Would you promise me that?”

A stray raindrop ran down Cronyl’s helmet. The cold wind that slipped inside brought itself the hollow scent of a downpour. The city’s stuffy air slowly turned wet and hard to breathe in, right before they reached downtown. Their knees almost scratched the ground when Cronyl took a sharp turn, the world turning nearly upside down.

“For you, I would.” The words like an everlasting oath slipped from his tongue before he tasted her for the first time that night. They listened and moved to the knocking of the restless rainfall. Time blurred away into a tingling sensation they couldn’t get enough of. Cronyl’s head spun at the warm touches of her delicate fingers, the calling of his name that sounded more like a honey-coated prayer than anything, and the overwhelming feeling of what if everything would have just disappeared in the next moment. He’d been content with that, he found.

The city exhaled with a heavy sigh as the wall of rain found it again, drenching every stray soul who dawdled outside. Almost like old friends, the droplets knocking on thin glass greeted Cronyl the same way, his view smearing from cold air mixing with his warm breath under his helmet.

He and Avelyn raced inside a dream-like landscape, blinding lights growing around as flowers would, blurs of people appearing here and there like sluggish bugs buzzing aimlessly. The street, however, was only theirs, a territory claimed by their dreamwalk especially.

Every little piece of their time together materialized before his eyes, making his mind forget everything from before he met her. His ears filled with her sighs and moans from earlier, his body shaped by her touch. She snuggled closer to him on her seat, and he leaned back into her embrace. He knew what she longed for when a car appeared before them out of the blue, its headlight burning stars into his eyes. Her tender ask for a promise resonated in his mind when her gentle hand sneaked higher on his leather-covered arm. It made her desire loud and clear.

And so Cronyl twisted his wrist again just to keep his bike in place, yet letting all the control fly away with getting utterly lost among the approaching lights.

He closed his eyes with the building screeching of rubber on concrete, and at that moment nothing and no one lasted. Not Cronyl, nor Avelyn, not even two strangers — only them. And they stayed like that, forever.

[glystenangel]

Lapdog

SoftDom!Nanami x Afab!Reader Oneshot

summary: nanami rewarding you for sitting on his lap

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, kissing, lap sitting (ofc), penetrative sex, getting f*cked from below, masturbation, voyeurism-ish?, praise like there's no tomorrow, established relationship

~1.1k

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

_________________

Nanami likes you on his lap. 

Whenever he comes home from work, he has you settled there, and you hold each other on the couch as you share how your days went.

Sometimes, Nanami gets too distracted to continue conversing, his hands roaming over your body as he makes small hums of confirmation that he’s still listening to you. Of course, you start to lose focus as well, and you can’t help what happens once you do.

Today, you notice he is more distracted than usual.

“Nanami?” You laugh a bit as he starts peppering your neck with soft kisses in the middle of your story.

“Go on, I’m listening.” He mumbles, planting another one at the edge of your collarbone. “Promise.”

You give him an amused yet warning look, “You’re not a good liar, honey.”

“You’re right. I don’t like lying, especially not to you.” A small smirk plays at the corners of his mouth, and you stroke aside his hair to admire his face better.

The lines of his cheeks are so sharp and deep, and they match the narrow brown of his eyes. The golden tone of his hair lightens up his severe facial expressions, and you love the firm set of his jaw. He never understands when you call him handsome, citing that he was much too angular and stressed all the time to have that sort of pretty label. You don’t agree with him at all, as he appears more and more handsome each day you spend with him. The featherlight touch of his hands cradles your figure, and you’re reminded of how kind and gentle he is with you. 

He closes his eyes to let your fingertips melt into his skin, only opening them when you pause over his lips. Your thumb hovers over the swell of his bottom lip, waiting.

Words can barely scratch the surface of just how deeply your love runs for each other, so you stay silent to allow the sweet admiration you have for him nestle in your chest.

Nanami kisses the pad of your thumb, resting his chin in your hand as he carefully looks at you.

“Can you come closer?” He asks, coaxing your waist forward.

You follow his instruction slowly, moving from your sideways position over his thighs to open your legs and rest your stomach against his.

“Better?” You tilt your head, arching your hips into his lap.

“Much.” He whispers, and you can already feel his kiss by the way he’s looking at you before you readily close your eyes.

Your lips find his familiar, tasting how much he loves you on his tongue and low grunts leaving him when you begin grinding your hips against his growing boner. You whine every time your clit catches on his bulge, and he presses you down hard so you know how much he wants you too. A line of wetness forms between your legs, and your breathing starts to hitch.

“Let’s take these off, okay?” Nanami’s hands impatiently pull at the hems of your clothing, and you nod obediently as you help each other undress.

Once you’re both naked, you have to suck in a breath as Nanami’s cock rests against your throbbing pussy. The weight of it is heavy, and the hardness makes you squirm.

“I missed you so much today.” He licks at your neck with frustration, deeply inhaling and nipping at the sensitive stretch of skin.

“I missed you too. So, so much.” You cup the back of his head, grinding harder into his lap with fitful whimpers. The length of his cock is veiny and firm, sliding against your lips and clit with every roll of your hips. The entire shaft is soon filmed with your slick, and the tip of his cock leaks drops of needy arousal as it begs to be enveloped by your silky insides.

“Did you touch yourself while I was gone?” He presses his forehead against yours, and the air between you is thick as you rut against each other’s bare flesh.

“Mhm. I couldn’t wait.” You admit into his mouth, and he groans into the kiss.

Exasperated noises leave you and your skin grows hot, fire trailing after Nanami’s fingertips.

“Come on.” He grasps the back of your thighs, and you knowingly sit back until he can align himself to your entrance before guiding his cock in.

The stretch has you gasping, but Nanami goes slowly and with plenty of assuring kisses and whispers into your ear. Your mind becomes dazed from the feeling, your pussy keenly sucking at his girth and dripping lewdly around him.

When you shift your gaze downwards, the sight of Nanami’s blond patch of hair against your pussy drives you nearly insane. He’s all the way in, holding himself there and his balls smushed right under where the bottom of your slit is clinging to the underside of his cock.

He keeps you on his thighs, your legs splayed over his spread ones. The muscle of his thigh is lean and strong, twitching beneath your own with barely restrained desire. The position naturally pries your legs open, and you try to breathe as his cock is plunged deep in your wetness. His hands are holding you down on it with such a strong grip that he’s leaving bruised indents in your skin.

“Show me how you did it.” He says, his cupid’s bow hovering against your own as your hips quiver in anticipation. 

You shakily lower one hand down to where you’re both connected, and you languidly slide your ring and middle finger over your clit, the weight of Nanami’s stare never leaving your fingers as you flinch under every subsequent touch. He rasps in a breath as you pulse around his dick, soaking his lap further as you begin playing with yourself in earnest.

“Keep going. More.” He encourages, awe lining his voice and moaning when you repeatedly constrict around him.

You keep one hand on his muscular bicep, anchoring yourself with it as your clit squishes loudly underneath your rapidly moving fingers. Your pussy twitches and gurgles bubbles of cum onto the base of Nanami’s dick, and he groans louder the messier you get from your own touch.

“Faster. I know you can do it. I said fucking faster. Uh huh, that’s it. Yeah.” He bounces his knees a little, raising you up and making you wince at the on and off pressure of his cock. You keep your pace fast, white dotting your vision as your speed stimulates your pussy with buzzing pleasure.

“Good. Atta girl.” Nanami’s voice is sweet and milky, just like the cum spilling between your thighs and sticking Nanami’s front to your pussy lips. 

You can see the veins on his stomach pulsating with need, and shining from the puddles of your wetness. His balls remain beneath you, the sacks full of all the cum you could ever want. It makes you almost upset, knowing he could be filling you up instead of making you do it yourself.

“N-Nanami. I can’t. I c-cant anymore.” You feel tears springing into your eyes, and he moves his hands to soothe up and down your waist.

“You can. Believe me, look how good you’re doing.” He glosses your lips with dreamy kisses, your frustrated pants finding their way between his lips and replaced with his praise as he kneads his hands beneath your ass to lift you up.

Your eyes automatically scan down to where your bodies meet, the raising of your hips stretching globs of precum between the sides of Nanami’s hard cock and pooling inside your saturated pussy. The sight makes you shudder, and Nanami sinks you back onto his rigid girth with a strained grunt.

“Come on, baby,” He mutters against your shoulder before placing a delicate kiss there, “Show me some more.”

You oblige and twist yourself tighter around him as you rub at your clit with renewed fervor, wanting to make him proud. You always do, and you know Nanami won’t let you go unrewarded as long as you do as he says. 

The squelch of your pussy as you play with your swollen clit is obnoxiously loud, and Nanami slowly starts driving his hips up into you. You swivel your hips, guiding him to where you want him to be.

“Am I hitting a good spot? Must be, you’re making such a cute face right now. Oh, don’t be embarrassed. I love you. Want to make you feel good.”

The urgent stroking of your fingertips coupled with Nanami’s powerful thrusts makes your mind go blissfully blank, and he continues caressing your ears with sweet nothings.

“You like it here don’t you? Right here. Yeah?” Your hips stutter when his mouth brushes against the shell of your ear.

His voice is almost a growl, rich and heavy. It reverberates in your chest and makes you shiver as he talks. You would listen to every filthy little thing he said. 

He closely watches how your pussy wraps tighter around his cock, and the pathetic way your clit convulses as you pleasure yourself.

You can hear Nanami nearly choke from the obscene sight, “Good girl. That’s a good fucking girl. Oh my god.”

Ceaselessly, you keep the rhythm of your fingers steady, nonsensical cries escaping you.

Through your mewls, Nanami’s voice is affectionate and full of satisfaction, “Feels good, right? I bet it does. Feels good for me too. Mm.” 

His pleased grunts and moans only make you more hungry for him, and you buck your hips more urgently with each passing second. Nanami notices your mindless state, and he rams his dick harder into your overwhelmed cunt. You feel his tongue lapping at your neck, puffs of air from his lips cooling the moisture on your hot skin.

Then he trails kisses back up to your ear, nibbling at your earlobe and teasing you with more dirty words.

“Gonna make a mess of my cock, huh? Yeah? It’s all yours, cum right on it.” He insists, never stopping the deep, bruising force of his eager cock.

“Cumming! Oh, I’m cumming so hard. Ah, Nanami!”

A heady rush of feeling overtakes your body, blinding you to everything that isn’t him. Your hips spasm, shaking creamy droplets of your climax all over Nanami’s waiting lap.

“Atta girl, that’s my girl.” Nanami digs his hands into your sides, continually hitting the spot that makes your vision swim and your pussy tremble.

As your high fogs your mind, the warm sensation of Nanami’s cum coating your pussy’s walls flows through you. You cling to him, milking his cock as he rests you atop his thighs until you find each other’s lips again.

You swallow hard as your tongues slip together, your hands weaving into his hair when he grabs your hips to make them circle around his cock.

“So good, baby. So so good.” He reels back, curling your hair behind your ears and framing your face with his hands to fondly observe your drooling and crying.

You continue moving your hips on your own, placing your hands on his stomach as you ride out the aftershocks and more cum trickles between you both. 

“You can stop now, it’s okay.” He spots your face with kisses, and you collapse onto him with a weary sigh. 

Winces escape you as he carefully pulls out, and he hugs you to his chest once you can fully relax.

As you recollect yourself, Nanami scratches heart shapes in between your shoulder blades and pecks tender kisses onto the top of your head.

Once your breathing returns to its regular pattern, Nanami holds you closer and lays back onto the couch.

“Now tell me, what were you talking about earlier?”

You peer up at him with disapproval, “So you weren’t listening.”

He returns your look with a hopelessly smitten grin, “Yeah...I wasn’t. I’m sorry, will you forgive me?”

Nanami’s mussed hair from your tugging softens his overall appearance, and the way he's staring at you makes your heart melt. The corners of his mouth are upturned, and his eyes are glistening with emotion. He seems happy, and you innately know it’s because of you. You roll your eyes, but then mirror his doting expression before settling back into his secure embrace.

“Fine, just this once.”

_________________

End Notes:

this is what i imagine coming home to him would be like :')</3 love him so much🥰💞💞💞

[lalunanymph]

➟ teeth

summary. it’s werewolf kakucho going feral when he claims you. what more could you ask for?

pairing. hitto kakucho x fem!reader

cw. werewolf!kakucho, scenting, explicit smut, a/b/o dynamics, knotting, breeding kink, feral kakucho (he tries so hard to hold it back and eventually loses it) omega fem!reader, blood, biting, werewolf saliva heals wounds, monster fucking, knotting, the bonten trio + koko being smug assholes, unedited, mdni, 18+

wc. idk i pumped out this whole thing in an hour on mobile. i’ll check it again when my brain’s not mush.

a/n. do not perceive me. my love for this man has reached subterranean levels. it’s not even funny anymore. also i wrote this whole damn thing in one go on tumblr drafts—that is how much he has me whipped. inspired by this post cause my hyperactive brain makes good points, sometimes (jk all the time)

The tip of his perfect nose glided down your throat, inhaling the sweet scent of your pheromones that coated the back of his sinuses like the most seductive perfume. This is finally happening, his lupine thoughts crowed victoriously. Tonight, I will make her my mate.

Your whimpers sounded like music to him; head lolling back to thump against his broad chest. Despite the raw humanness of his form, the wolf beneath was begging to be unearthed, to claim you as his in this lifetime and the next one and next one, and the—

“Kaku,” your small whine reached his hypersensitive ears. “C-Can’t—“

You petered out and his warm, deep chuckle reverberated right into your throat from his mouth pressed on your humming pulse point. A sharp nip on the thin skin and you yelped, eyes fluttering wide open.

“To think you were denying me because you didn’t want to ruin our friendship.” The tips of his claws he could not quite conceal lightly grazed your bare thighs. Your panties were in complete tatters on the ground, blouse hiked all the way to expose the lacy cups of your bra. “Aren’t you glad you presented, too?”

Nights of curling your fingers deep into your throbbing heat to find that sweet resolution to your aching need could never compare to the real life fantasy of having Kakucho claiming you. When he had first scented the sweet, almost honey-like essence your panties could not quite contain, he had snapped. Backing you against the wall, lips sealed onto yours—never mind that you were both still at Bonten headquarters and he was technically your boss.

Never mind that you had a crush on him for close to a year and thought that it was not reciprocated. Until tonight.

The rough strip of his tongue curled down your jaw, leaving goosebumps down the length of your spine. “My omega. My Y/N. I’m going to mark this pussy as my own.”

You cried out, completely wired up; every nerve standing at attention. He was gentle when he untucked your cups, the plush flesh of your tits spilling out like a lewd secret. With his fall of midnight hair, mismatched eyes and angular features, he was vision ducking his face down to tease those same kisses on your aching tits. Wrapping his mouth around one hardened nipple, he gently suckled and you gasped out; mind blanking except for the thought of his knot deep inside you.

It was all you wanted—all you could think about.

Unsteady hands grappled at his hair, his clothes, anything to anchor you to the blistering pleasure he was inflicting on your body. Presenting had always been a topic you were afraid of—many an omega made it seem like the pinnacle of their life and the pressure nearly made you deny your mounting attraction to your boss. But, little did you know, Kakucho himself was facing off his demons on the daily whenever he saw you in those tight pencil skirts and slinky blouses.

It was a miracle either of you finally admitted your feelings for the other and now, it was time to play catch up.

Wedging his leg between your thighs to spread you out more, Bonten’s level-headed and aloof number 3 was anything but when he reached up to squeeze your tits firmly in his large and veiny palms, face buried in the crook of your neck; drunk off your scent.

Cheeks suffused with red, lips swollen and hair mused from your wandering hands—Kakucho was even more delectable and gorgeous in this state.

“Want you,” he groaned, teeth digging into your pulse point. “Want you s’bad.”

“Take me,” you gasped out when he leaned forward to seal his mouth on yours in a searing kiss. Pulling back slightly, a string of spit connected both your parted lips together and you broke it when you delved back in, tilting your face to the side to feel more of his mouth on yours; teeth clacking and tongue twining with his.

You fumbled for his zipper and he helped you, the drag of metal teeth loud in the quiet; mingling together with your harsh pants and stuttered breathing. The both of you were too keyed up to toy with the other for long. You wrapped one palm around the base of his impressive and thick length, jerking him off while he groaned, his head falling onto your shoulder.

Neither of you bothered to leave the other undressed; stripped down to your bare, wolffish instincts to complete the mating ritual.

The points of his canine teeth elongated and a low growl reverberated in the back of your throat. Pushing your hand aside, Kakucho slipped two fingers between your folds, finding you sufficiently wet enough. He didn’t waste anymore time—his pulsing, thick length slid deep into you, ruining the last of your resolve; drawing you into delirium.

He leveraged on his desk to tilt your body upward, plopping you down onto the mahogany surface as he bullied his cock into your tight cunt. Your hips clipped and circled against his; he set the pace, cock thrusting sloppily in and out of your creamy depths. Your copious slick formed rings of white on the base of his impressive girth and he shuddered at your nails raking down his back.

Thighs wrapped around his defined waist, your heels digging into the soft skin of his bare ass, you could only hold onto him as he rocked you apart. But, you needed to feel more. Months of tension, of lingering gazes and barely there touches coalesced to your mouth pressed insistently on his, drinking in every deep groan and tasting every last vestige of sin.

He fucked into you like an unhitched stallion; though considering he was one of Tokyo’s most eligible alphas, a feral dog was more alike to his comportment in this instance. His teeth sank into your neck, leaving open wounds that bled out onto the polished wood; tongue peeking out to lick at the perforated wounds and lap at the blood, instantly healing them before he ripped apart the skin again and again and again. A cycle of unending torment and relief.

The hackles on the back of his rose, dark and pointy like his hair. His one good eye glimmering blood red as he traversed those punishing bites right to your plush tits; sinking his teeth into the jiggling flesh only to gnaw at it until ruby red droplets stained his fangs.

You whimpered when his healing saliva covered the wounds, stitching them back up only for him to repeat the motions on your other breast. All the while his cock never stopped slamming into your aching pussy. The tip of his girthy head punching right at your cervix, burrowing past the puckered opening right towards your womb.

A cry was torn from your lips when he pushed you flat onto the surface, pens and staplers clattering onto the ground. It was wild and filthy how he lifted one of your thighs and perched it on his shoulder, leaving you open to his whims.

His hips stuttered, teeth bared and you lifted trembling, blood-stained palms to cup his cheeks. That infuriatingly rough tongue peeked out to graze your pulse point and you shuddered when he pressed your wrist to his nose, inhaling the thrum of your blood under the thin skin deeply.

“You smell so heavenly, angel,” he groaned lustily. “So ripe for the picking.”

“Yes,” you cried out, “s’all yours, Kaku! Nghh—g-gonna—“

“Gonna cum?” he panted out, “gonna cream all over my cock?”

The sight of his elongated nails so close to your throbbing clit made something in you break and you cried out when the tip of his sharp claw teasingly traced the swell of your swollen nub with a barely-there touch. “How much licking do you think I have to do if I hurt your little clit, hmm?”

You shook your head, desperate pants leaking out your parted mouth. “D-don’t—“

He retracted those claws, and a very much human thumb rubbed circles onto your painfully sensitive bundle of nerves. “Won’t hurt you,” he grunted, mismatched gaze flitting up to catch yours. “Promise.”

The wounds he left on your body—albeit now glossed over from his healing mouth—throbbed.

Something swelled deep in you and a gasp was wrenched from your lips when you figured out what it was. Under your combined body weight, the desk was shaking, creaking and groaning with every hard thrust he was forcing you to take. But you didn’t care—you wanted this as much as he did.

“Fuck!” he roared and slammed his palm down hard onto the wood, inches from your face. Expression contorting, you could only watch in muted fascination as the wolf fought to be unleashed from the man. “Can’t hold back—!”

Your next words tore apart the last of his resolution. “Then, don’t.”

With a snarl, those canine teeth burst forth, piercing his plush lower lip, drops of red flecking on your cheek. But, you welcomed him. You welcomed that darkness with open arms.

Throwing his head back, a shattering howl pierced through the flimsy silence; anyone down the block would be aware of what had transpired.

Kakucho was about to mark you as his mate, once and for all.

He ripped your blouse and skirt off your figure, tatters falling onto the floor like wilted butterfly wings. You didn’t care that his claws caught on your skin; didn’t care for the bright red gashes running down your torso or arms, completely engulfed in the pleasure exploding behind your closed eyelids; your whole mind turning white.

The thick ring of muscle at the base of his length swelled in you and a hot burst of cream filled you up to the brim; his knot fully expanding to plug every drop of his hot seed deep into your fertile womb.

Broken whimpers like that of a exhausted dog slipped from his lax mouth and the claws slowly turned into human fingers, the teeth morphing back into ordinary mandibles.

Fully surrendering himself back to his human form, Kakucho stared in muted horror at the rivulets of red trickling down your body; the cuts smarting and making you wince and whimper with every minute movement. With his seed still draining into you, he waited until it was over before he pulled his red and raw cock from your depths.

Head bent down over your body, he slowly went over your wounds with his tongue, the gaping red closing into unblemished skin once again. Mutely pressing kisses of apology onto now smoothened skin, he lifted his head, fixing you with sorrowful eyes. A hand cupped your cheek and you leaned into his touch.

“Sorry,” he rasped, utterly wretched from how he had treated you. “I-I—“

“It’s fine,” you hushed his concerns. “I’m fine.”

Gathering you into his sinewy arms, your head found its home in the crook of his shoulders, your entire being completely fucked out and sated. A thick material that you recognized as his favourite structured trench coat wrapped around your naked figure. Ignoring all conventions of normalcy, he lifted you up into his arms and carried you out of his office, down the hallways of Bonten’s hideout and straight for his car.

But not before he encountered three pairs of amused eyes and one snickering Sanzu by the pantry.

“So, you finally did it, huh, champ?” Rindou gloated, his grin both teasing and salacious.

“Been eyeing her like a fucking bone since he presented—thought he would rather die than claim her,” Ran snorted.

If it weren’t for his hands full with your sleeping form, he would give them a few choice fingers that indicated the full level of his annoyance. But as it was, you murmured in your slumber and he paused, briefly gazing down at you with soft eyes.

“I’m taking the day off tomorrow,” he announced to the nosy spectators. “Try not to burn the whole organization down while I’m away, ‘kay? And Koko—update the system to show that Y/N’s on an emergency leave, too.”

The treasurer’s smile fell and he grumbled, much to the Haitanis’ and Sanzu’s glee. “Kokonoi this, Kokonoi that. God, go fuck yourself, Hitto.”

“What was that?”

He plastered on a serpentine smile. “I said enjoy your break tomorrow.”

Kakucho resisted the urge to roll his eyes, knowing that every second he spent with these clowns was another precious moment he would waste without enjoying his newfound mate at his side.

“Yeah. That’s what I thought you said.”

© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.

[mxnsterbabe]

Male Orc/Female Reader NSFW Wordcount: 1,271 Commissions | Ko-fi | Masterlist

 The orc across the bar was tall and muscular, with broad shoulders that strained against his black shirt. Teal hair – dyed of course – spilled past those enormous shoulders in dense curls, framing his angular face in a way that accented those sharp cheekbones and sturdy, heavy jaw.

He hadn’t noticed you yet, perched on a nearby stool and sipping one of the menu’s most expensive cocktails. Tonight was all about fun, so why not enjoy something more than your usual drink?

He brushed bright hair from his face then, the curls tossed carelessly behind his back as he greeted the bartender. A smile lit up his face, a laid back sort of thing that looked oh so effortless.

Even such a simple thing – and not even directed at you! – had your hands clenching around your glass. It had your thighs squeezing too, fighting back a wave of arousal that hit you, red hot, in the stomach.

“One espresso martini please,” he said to the bartender, “and whatever this lovely lady would like.”

You squeaked, not realising that he had noticed you yet. Yet when he sent you a bright and beaming grin, it was impossible not to smile back.

“Leif,” he introduced, and his voice was a deep baritone that made you squirm.

He already knew your name, just as you knew that his was Leif; but this was all a part of the fun. All a part of the scenario you had suggested. 

You introduced yourself as Leif perched on the bar stool beside you. He was so tall and so damn big that he dwarfed both you and the stool, which vanished as Leif crossed his legs and leaned in close.

"I feel like I should tell you how ravishing you look in that little black dress. You're all dressed up, for this seedy old bar?"

The look he was giving you, eyes dark and hungry as his gaze roved across your body, sent another shiver of arousal shooting down your back. Thighs squeezing even harder, you tried to remain composed and downed the last of your drink.

Just in time for the one Leif ordered to arrive. The bartender, a heavyset dwarven man, cast you a wary look as he passed over a bright red cosmopolitan. "This guy bothering you?" he asked.

You could have laughed at how absurd it was, that Leif was bothering you. The bartender didn't know, of course, so you flashed him a smile and a nod.

The bartender didn't seem convinced; but then a flurry of customers starting shouting for him, so he left you alone.

Leif's laugh was warm and syrupy in a way that warmed you to the core. "He was probably wondering what a woman like you would want with a guy like me," he said, brow raised in a way just shy of suggestive.

It was still enough to make your heart flutter, and for that sickly-sweet warmth to settle between your legs. Your tight black dress was too short, riding up just enough to reveal a strip of silky inner thigh.

Leif's gaze darted down, and a satisfied smile settled across his lips. The lust in his eyes was almost enough to make you think screw the foreplay, and drag him back to the car right now; but he had been so eager to act this scene out with you, and you would see it through.

Although, if he kept looking at you like that then... there was no guarantee you would even make it to the car.

The thought made you blush scarlet hot, only made worse when Leif's big, heavy hand landed on your knee. His thumb began to trace gentle circles on your skin, and your face blazed from both the alcohol and his touch.

"I'm glad that I saw you here," Leif said in that honey-thick voice you loved so much, "a beautiful woman like you shouldn't spend a Saturday night alone. Maybe when you finish that drink, I could treat you to something a little... classier?"

The warmth of his skin, his closeness, was making your skin itch in the most fantastic way. You craved Leif's touch, unable to help from shuffling closer. Even on the edge of your stool, it wasn't enough.

Leif only grinned. "I'll take that as a yes?"

A breathless laugh left your lips; hardly as sultry as you had wanted, but it was taking most of your concentration just to hold yourself together now. 

You swore that you could feel the eyes of the other customers boring into you, their curiosity more important than politeness. Yet to the outside world, you and Leif were just two strangers who had met here by chance. Nothing more, nothing less; there was a certain kind of thrill in the deception.

"And where would you take me, if we left now?" you asked, and you propped your face in one hand to watch Leif from behind thick eyelashes. You gave them a flutter, sighing happily when Leif's smile turned devilish.

"Oh, I don't know. There's a great bar around the corner, cocktail restaurants all over... and there's also my place, if you feel like it."

Even though you knew where this was going, your toes curled with excitement. All of this, the anticipation, kept building and building until it was almost too much. 

"And your place," you asked, feigning naivety, "how far away is it?"

"Oh, not far. I've only had one drink, I can drive you."

There were definitely eyes on you now; two men at a table not far away, observing you with coy smiles and muffled laughter. They seemed to say I know what you're up to. Or at least, they were intrigued by the pretty lady about to be whisked away by a gigantic orc.

You offered them a curt smile, but your attention was saved solely for Leif. The hand not cupping your cheek reached for his shirt so that your fingers could delicately tug at his collar.

"Your place sounds good, big guy. Lead the way."

Leif downed his martini in one, which spurred you on to do the same. You were already pleasantly buzzed, the perfect mellow of tipsiness; the extra alcohol only made you even more eager for what was about to come.

You walked through the bar with an arm linked through Leif's, revelling in the feel of his taught muscles against your side. As you passed by the two men's table, you couldn't help but wink - and stifle a laugh as they ducked their heads in shame.

But you couldn't blame them, really, when they were faced with the sight of you in that little dress; and Leif's imposing figure beside you. 

Leif held the door for you, always the perfect gentleman; and as you passed, he swept down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips. He smelled of sharp coffee liquor and expensive vodka, your absolute favourite.

"My car is just over there," Leif said, as if you didn't already know. "You sure you don't mind getting in with a stranger?"

His question, so hesitant, was almost too convincing. It lit a fire in your stomach, one that had been flickering for a while but now erupted full force. Grabbing the front of his shirt, you yanked him down to your level to crush your lips to his in a heated, firey kiss.

"I think I'll be fine," you whispered in his ear, "now take me home already."

With a hand on your back, slowly drifting down to your ass, Leif lead you to the car.

[inourselveswetrust]

do you have any RO descriptions? and how old is everyone, including MC?

This is how I envision each character, but I don't generally think of their features in great detail when writing so you can envision them however you'd like!

As for the MC, they're 27/28 years old. They graduated high school at 17/18, graduated a four year university program at 21/22 and joined the academy before being hired as a police officer at 22/23. They've been in the force for five years now.

August is relatively tall in height, standing at 5'11" (180cm) with a lean, toned frame. They have pale ivory skin with warm, peachy undertones. Their face is angular with a defined jaw and cheeks, and no blemishes except a scar on the bridge of their nose. They have monolid eyes in a deep ebony shade. Their hair is black and shoulder-length, they often style it in a bun or braid. They are 29 years old.

Blair is tall, reaching 6'2" (187cm), their frame is brawny and muscular. Blair has dark umber skin, the tone a rich brown shade. Their face is oval in shape, with soft cheekbones, a broad nose and a wide mouth. Their eyes are hooded and chocolate brown. Their black hair is kept in a crew cut. They are 33 years old.

Wren stands at 5'9" (175cm), their stature is broad and bulbous. They are broad-shouldered and have a somewhat paunchy belly. Their skin is tawny in colour. Their face is round, with a large collection of freckles on their cheeks and nose. Their eyes are almond in shape, and hazel in colour. They have golden brown hair kept in a pompadour-like style. Wren is 29 years old.

Neve's frame is lithe and petite, they're 5'5" (165cm). Neve has olive skin and honey blonde hair falling in waves to their ears. They have a slender face with small features. Their round eyes are a deep shade of blue and wear black frame glasses. Neve's 26 years old.