#i need to just COVER him with love and affection

[txrully]

Hi Hi !!! I really love your fics

Can I request a gn reader who loves to manhandle the BL boys (Kinda like aggressive affection).

Thank you, and have a good day :D

CANT ESCAPE MY AFFECTION!

·˚ ༘ ꒱ summary bluelock boys with an s/o who loves aggressive affection

·˚ ༘ ꒱ characters isagi yoichi , bachira meguru , itoshi rin , nagi seishiro , mikage reo , chigiri hyoma , hiori yo , shidou ryusei , itoshi sae , michael kaiser , alexis ness

·˚ ༘ ꒱ warning lowercase intended , gn reader

·˚ ༘ ꒱ a/n idk how - but im pretty sure this flopped :sob: so sorry nonnie :( <3

·˚ ༘ ꒱ isagi yoichi

isagi is kind of taken aback at first, because he’s more used to subtle affection (kinda), but when you pull him into a bear hug and start giving him smothering kisses, he’s so down.

he’s always flustered, trying to return the affection but not quite knowing how to keep up with your energy. when you go in for a kiss, he literally freezes, and you have to drag him in.

"yoichi, c'mere, i don't bite! >:/ "

"w-wait, can’t you, uh, just take it slow- 🥲"

"nope, i'm coming for you whether you like it or not!"

"i... okay? 😅"

·˚ ༘ ꒱ bachira meguru

bachira lives for it. he’s all about that playful, chaotic love. he’ll give you the most dramatic responses and egg you on.

if you get overly affectionate, he’ll tease you by trying to run away and play “catch me if you can,” but then he’ll let you tackle him because he loves the aggressive attention. it’s like his personal sport.

"bachira, i'm not letting you go today!"

"haha, i can totally outrun you! try me!"

"watch me catch you!"

"ah, you did it! but only because i let you."

"you're so annoying, i’m kissing you anyway."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi rin

to put it simply... rin’s not used to this level of affection ( at all ), but once he realizes you’re serious about it, he melts 🫠. he’ll let you drag him into all the kisses, but he might act like he’s annoyed at first.

he’ll do that thing where he crosses his arms and smirks while you’re all over him, but secretly, he’s a little soft on the inside. once you start kissing his neck or leaning on him aggressively, he’s completely done for.

"ew, stop that."

"i’m literally hugging you wdym. D:"

"do it again."

"i- fine by me."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ nagi seishiro

nagi is lwk confused at first ( :x face and all ), but when you pounce on him and wrap your arms around his neck, he just goes with the flow. he’s so relaxed and chill about the whole thing, and honestly? he really likes being adored.

he might just let you do all the aggressive cuddling, because it’s easier than fighting you. if you push for more, he’ll pretend to be a little annoyed, but in reality, he’s soaking up every moment.

"sei, you’re stuck with me today, deal with it."

"can i, like, not deal with it?"

"nope, too bad."

"…fine. i’ll just enjoy the cuddles."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ mikage reo

reo is the most dramatic when it comes to aggressive affection, but he’s secretly obsessed with it. if you hug him from behind and cover his face in kisses, he’s all “oh no, how will i survive?” but he loves it.

he might complain, but he’s always the first to pull you closer and make sure you’re comfortable. even if he’s acting all sophisticated, he’s a softie for your wild love.

"reo, i’m not done yet!"

"oh nooo, i’m going to be suffocated by love!"

"you’re so dramatic."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ chigiri hyoma

chigiri is a bit flustered at first because he’s not sure how to handle all your aggressive affection, but he’ll warm up to it. he loves being loved—he just needs a moment to process.

if you’re all over him, he’ll take it in stride. he’ll laugh it off and act cool, but you can totally tell he’s enjoying it. maybe he gets a little shy when you shower him with kisses, but he definitely melts into your arms when you do.

"chigiri, you’re not getting away today!"

"what do you mean? i’m always getting away!"

"not today, my love."

"you’re a menace." ( lovingly )

·˚ ༘ ꒱ hiori yo

hiori is soft about it. like- he doesn’t even try to escape. you could probably lift him off the ground with a hug, and he’d just be like “okay, this is happening.”

he loves the attention, and he’s so gentle back, giving you the same level of affection in return. he might blush a bit, but he’s more than happy to let you shower him with attention.

"yo, hiori, you're stuck with me."

"uh-huh, i’m fine with that."

"you’re so cute when you get all shy."

"you’re the cute one here."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ shidou ryusei

shidou absolutely thrives in this environment. he loves being manhandled, basically. if you aggressively kiss his neck or give him a bear hug, he’s probably gonna pretend to act like he’s annoyed, but secretly? he’s loving it.

he might challenge you, though. like, “you think you can take me on?” but deep down, he’s ready to be held, kissed, and adored however you want.

"i’m gonna keep kissing you until you can’t breathe."

"oh? bring it on, i’ll kiss you back harder."

"you’re such a brat."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ itoshi sae

sae acts as cool as ever, but when you pull him into a tight hug and kiss him aggressively, he’s completely unbothered. he won’t show it, but you can tell he really likes it.

he might keep his face neutral, but his hands are definitely moving to pull you in closer, and he’ll even wrap his arm around you to make sure you stay put. he won’t say it, but he’s so happy to be adored by you.

"you’re clingy today .. more than usual."

"you bet i am. deal with it."

"oh well."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ michael kaiser

kaiser is such a dramatic baby. he acts like he’s too important for aggressive affection, but the second you throw yourself at him, he’s all “yes, this is exactly what i wanted.”

he makes a big show of rolling his eyes, but you know he’s loving every second of it. he even tries to one-up you sometimes, like, “you think you’re the only one who can be aggressive with love?” and then he’ll pin you down in return.

"i’m gonna smother you with kisses, just you wait."

"pfft, i dare you."

"watch me."

·˚ ༘ ꒱ alexis ness

ness might seem shy about your affection at first, but he’s totally into it. he doesn’t push you away, but he might give you the sweetest smile when you throw yourself at him.

he’ll pull you in and let you cuddle him as much as you want, and when you kiss him all over his face, he’ll blush like crazy but still hold you tight.

"ness, stop looking so cute while i’m trying to kiss you."

"i can’t help it… :') "

"you’re gonna be the death of me."

© txrully

do not copy/translate/repost/plagiarize my works in any way.

ⁱᵈᵏ ʷʰʸʸʸʸ ᵇᵘᵗ ⁱ ʰᵃᵗᵉ ᵗʰⁱˢ ˢᵐ 🫠

[mimiii-3]

I LOVE SABOTEURR , that's such a cool conceptt, how would they realize they're also yandere for the reader ?

Hmmm great question🤔

…

Saboteur Pt.3

Yandere Platonic Batfam x GN Neglected Reader

Notes: typical yandere themes, stupid batboys

…

Bruce

Bruce was grateful to leave for patrol after the emotionally exhausting confrontation between you and your brothers. Bruce sits atop Gotham’s Cathedral, covered by the shadow of an imposing gargoyle.

His cowl masks the sour expression that’s stuck on his face. He can’t remember the last time you raised your voice in the manor. Let alone at him.

The hurt in your voice as you made your long-brewing confession rings in his ears. How long has his sweet child felt this way? When was the last time he asked you how you were doing? How long has he been such a deadbeat?

Rain starts to fall over Gotham like a hazy blanket. The wind grows crisp but fails to subside the simmering anger that festers in Gotham’s dark knight.

Dick

The drive to Bludhaven seems to be endless as Dick weaves in and out of traffic. His slender fingers drum nervously against the wheel. Something’s wrong. Something’s very wrong.

He just can’t seem to place it. Were you always this complicated? Since when were you so desperate for attention?

Dick shakes his head in disbelief. The timid soul he’s known all these years is a fraud…a shyster. He doesn’t know whether to feel pity or anger.

One on hand he’s mad that you’ve been lying to the family for who knows how long. On the other hand he can’t help but feel bad for his little sibling.

Dick’s conflicted emotions wear at his easy-going persona. He sucks his teeth and eases back into the seat. He needs time. Time to think this through. Time to decide what he’ll do to you when he finds out where you’ve gone.

Tim

Tim mindlessly scrolls through the videos and screenshots of you framing their darling. Your work is amateurish but somehow skated by them.

There’s one picture that stands out to him. He increases the image on the monitor. It shows Bruce patting the top of your head while you practically beam at him.

A simple pat on the head and you’re happy as a clam. Tim never realized how easy it was to win your affection. If he had known, maybe he’d have given you a hug every once and a while.

Tim’s imagination drifts off as he picks through the security tapes. Each one leaving a trail of jealousy in their wake.

Damian

Impressive. His older, idiotic sibling is more capable than he thought. You’ve been framing the family’s darling for months without a hint of remorse.

He feels almost proud of you. Such viscous behavior while simultaneously pretending to be darling’s friend. How cutthroat of his completely useless sibling.

Damian, curious to learn more about the deceiver living in his home, makes his way to your room. He opens your bedroom’s sticker-covered door and scrunches his nose. The smell of overlapping, burnt candles wafts out of the room.

The walls of your room drip with personality. Damian takes one long look and shuts the door behind him. What else have you been hiding from his all this time?

…

Extra Notes: the calm before the storm🫣

[ssentimentals]

Hiii, I don’t really have a prompt that’d I’d like to request, but could I get something with scoups & reader that is scared of bad weather (tornado type weather & such—speaking from experience 🥲)?

I love your writing so much & love reading all your small prompts :)

hiii! tbh i always wanted people to come up here with their own requests, but that never reallly happened as most prefer to pick from already formulated prompts, so you have no idea how happy you made me with this message! 💜thank you for your kind words as well :')

seungcheol + bad weather

when you get a notification on your phone about the upcoming storm, dread settles uncomfortably in your chest. makes it hard to breathe, squeezing your lungs painfully with growing anxiety. clutching your bag, you look up at the sky, noticing how light blue sky slowly starts turning grey. your phone buzzes and you sigh in relief, seeing seungcheol's photo on your screen.

“i got the storm notification,” your boyfriend says instead of greeting. “i’m taking rest of the day off, will work from home. where are you, baby?”

“got the groceries, going home now.” you wince at the way wind picks up. “i’m gonna-“

“can you go inside and wait for me to pick you up?”seungcheol interrupts.

warmth pools at the the pit of your stomach. seungcheol has no problems with any weather conditions, he has no anxiety or panic attacks, doesn't flinch at thundreclaps - it's all you. since he learned this about you, it never fails to make your heart squeeze with affection how he always goes out of his way to ensure your comfort and safety during these moments. “it's a ten minute walk,” you say, shaking your head. “i'll go on my own. be careful, yeah? drive safe.”

“i'll be back home very soon, angel.” seungcheol assures you.

before seungcheol no one ever made you feel so seen regarding this issue. you know that he's going to probably break some rules on his way back home just to get quicker to you and it's enough to make you rush home as well, ignoring the way wind picks up. force of nature is terrifying, especially when you know how devastating it can be; you quickly turn on the lights and shut the curtains as soon as you're inside. with years came not only age but wisdom: you learned how to deal with your fear. any kinds of distractions work the best and until your boyfriend arrives, you busy yourself with the groceries, preparing easy salad just to keep your hands busy.

seungcheol arrives with a loud bang and even louder: “baby, where are you?”. his big eyes are on you the second you appear in the hallway and wide smile spreads on his face: “hi, love.”

you grin, coming up to greet him. “hey, cheollie. thanks for coming over.”

“don't mention it.” seungcheol waves it off like it's not a big deal, when it actually is. he has no idea how much the fact that he took his job home the second he saw storm notification means to you. “you got the groceries?”

it's very domestic for next twenty minutes; seungcheol changes and you two enjoy the salad and tea, when another notification about a possibility of this storm turning into a tornado pops up. it makes your breath hitch, but seungcheol's warm hand on top of yours keeps you grounded. “let’s go to bed, yeah?” he suggests. “we can watch something.”

“but your work?” you ask, frowning. you took this week fully off and didn't have to worry about missing any important meetings. “it’s okay, really, we can-“

“don't worry about it.” seungcheol presses, taking your hand and forcing you to stand up. he hugs you tight, leaving small kiss on your forehead. “i just need you all cuddled up to me, my work can wait, okay? let's clean this up and go upstairs.”

you have no idea how seungcheol knows exactly what to do or say in moments like this. his touch is never too much, his words are never harsh, his gaze is always understanding and not pitying. when first thunder rolls in, he already has you two laying on the bed, covered from head to toe. first thunderclap echoes int he distance at first and then silences you both at the full volume. the sound makes you flinch as you've been slapped - you barely manage to conceal your whine, burying deeper int he comfort of the weighted blanket.

“it's okay, love, it's okay.” seungcheol soothingly rubs your back, pulling you even closer. “i’m here, yeah? do you want headphones?”

headphones help immensely but you were always shy about them at first; it always seemed to be so rude to just put headphones on when another person is around. seungcheol assured you from the start that he has no problems with it, but you always hesitate.

“hey,” he leans in, making sure that you make eye contact. “you come first, remember? you and you well-being always come first. let me get you those headphones.”

you can hear wind whistling outside like it's out there to get you and your heart rate picks up with dread settling as a heavy weight on your shoulders. it’s incredibly frustrating - you wish you never had this fear, wish it didn’t affect you the way it does. at the sound of yet another thunderclap, you squeeze your eyes shut and shiver, wanting to disappear. only when warm body settles next to you and headphones are placed gently on your head, only then you uncurl from your position and open your eyes. seungcheol is watching you with furrowed eyebrows, worry evident in his gaze. he caresses your face lovingly and points at the headphones, handing you your phone. “music,” he says. his thumb brushes below your eyes and he sighs. “i’m here, baby. just listen to the music, yeah?”

you nod. shuffling to cuddle closer, you whisper: “go ahead and work, cheol. it’s alright, i’ll listen to the music anyways.”

“you sure?” seungcheol asks and when you nod, he leans in to leave a sweet kiss on your cheek. “okay. but if it gets worse or you’ll need something, just let me know, okay?”

it’s so, so sweet. the way he angles his body so it’s be easier for you to lay down, how he wraps one arm around you securely and pulls you in, how he ocassionally leaves kisses on top of your head while he works. the safe space he creates for you lets you zone out, steady your breathing. you still flinch at the sounds but fear is not that strong when seungcheol is close to remind you that he is here for you. after some time he puts away his laptop and lets you flop on top of him, covering you two with a blanket.

“i quite like this, actually,” he comments, smiling.

“which part? me crushing you with my weight or me having a stupid fear?” you ask, aiming for a joke but falling flat.

“the part where we get to cuddle and i let you know that no fear is stupid and that holding you makes me incredibly happy.” he looks at you, eyes full of tenderness. “i’m happy to be here, right now. happy that you’re letting me do this.”

your throat feels too tight. before you can say something stupid like “i love you” and confess first, seungcheol adds: “can we do this more often?”

you don’t trust you voice not to crack if you speak, so you nod. seungcheol beams at this and leans in to kiss you. “awesome. now let’s nap for a bit.”

napping is definitely easier than admitting your feelings or facing the raging storm outside. you nod again and close your eyes, breathing in. you’re fast asleep in seconds and don’t feel small kiss on top of your head or quiet “i love you” spoken in the secrecy of the night.

a/n: so. if it wasn't very obvious, i know zero about storms/tornados so i'm sorry if this ended up being very unrealistic. hopefully you liked it :/ - nini

you can find my other writings for seventeen HERE

[goblinontour]

For Him

it’s all for him

warnings: explicit love

word count: 6k

Love doesn’t even begin to cover it. Love — the all-encompassing, all-consuming, above-all-else feeling. Love doesn’t feel adequate. Love doesn’t even come near enough to describe it. To describe what this is, what you feel, what he is to you. Love is a shallow word, a placeholder, a stand-in for something bigger, something you can’t name and never will. Will not be able to. 

It was there, though. Love was there. From the first moment you felt him. The moment you touched him, and you wished, in the quiet, echoing depths of your soul, that you’d met him earlier. Earlier, because there will never be enough of him.

And maybe if you’d had another year, you could have settled for love. Another month, and maybe it would have been enough to fill the spaces he’s carved out of you. Another day, and maybe you wouldn’t be here, aching, wanting, needing more. Another minute, and maybe the hollowness wouldn’t ache so much. Another second, and you might have been fuller.  

Fuller of him.

Because every second he doesn’t fill feels empty — even when they’re crowded with the thoughts of him. Those haunting thoughts of him. They are heavy. They linger. They never leave. Because you won’t let them. Because you can’t bear to let them go, even when they so desperately fight to dissolve. To let him go, even in your mind, feels unbearable. Because you can’t miss any more of him. You won’t allow it. It would hurt more than hanging onto those desperate thoughts. 

And the thought of goodbye? Nothing’s worse than saying goodbye. Saying goodbye to him, even the him you keep stored away in your head. It feels a little bit like dying. 

It feels worse than dying.  

You don’t miss him. You can’t. He’s here. His body beside you, his warmth in the bed. But you still long for him, as if there’s a piece of him somewhere else, just out of reach. A part of him you’ll never touch.  

If love’s not enough — will never be enough — then why? Why do you love him? Why do you love him so much that it splits you open and spills you out to make more room for him? Why do you love him when it hurts more often than it doesn’t?  

But then, he stirs. A faint, lazy shift beside you, and your heart lurches toward him. His hair is mussed, dark locks curling over his forehead, and you can feel the warmth of his skin before you even touch it. His breathing slows, evens, and your chest tightens. You lean in, closer than close, lips grazing the shell of his ear. 

There is nothing to be afraid of.

“I love you.”

The words come quiet, soft. You whisper them because saying them too loudly would only make it feel like acknowledging their insufficiency. Like shining a light on the void that still exists, even in love. So you keep them quiet and hope — hope — hope that they’re enough. At least for him. Enough for him to understand a fraction of what you mean. Of what it truly is. 

Because it’s more than love. It’s greater than affection. Beyond. Beyond the hugs and beyond the words or the way you hold him. More. More than the way he holds you back, like the two of you are all that’s keeping the world from breaking apart. Because you’d fall apart without each other there. Holding it all together, together. Yourselves and the other. 

“I think you’re supposed to say, ‘Happy Birthday.’” he murmurs, his voice slow and drowsy, still thick with sleep even though the sun hangs high in the sky. 

Almost noon.

You glance up at him, his eyelids heavy, his lips curling into the faintest trace of a smile. The kind of smile that’s more reflex than effort, born out of his teasing rather than true amusement.  

He doesn’t sleep well at night. He never has. He calls it wasting time, lying awake in the dark, restless, as if sleep itself is a thief robbing him of moments he’ll never get back. Time. Precious time. He treats it like gold dust, hoarded and spent with care, but never wasted.  

And yet, come morning — or afternoon — he always regrets it. Always drags himself out of bed with a sigh, muttering about the hours he’s lost. Same guilt, same cycle. A war between the time he holds too tightly and the time that slips away.  

Precious, precious time. 

You smile faintly against his skin. “I don’t want to remind you you’re getting old.”  

“You don’t want to remind yourself.” he corrects, his lips twitching into a knowing smirk. He’s always right, even when you don’t want him to be. Especially when you don’t want him to be. He’s always right.

“It’s okay, little love.” he says, and his voice wraps around you like a blanket never could, soft and warm but never suffocating. “I don’t mind it. But don’t worry too much. You’re making it sound like I’m eighty.”  

“Sorry.” you whisper, and you don’t know why you’re apologising, but you do it anyway. You shift closer, nuzzling into his chest, inhaling the faint, musky warmth of him. Now that he’s awake, you don’t have to be so careful. No tiptoeing so as not to disturb. You can disturb him now, without feeling as guilty. He won’t mind.  

“I love you too, just so you know.” he says, his voice soft, almost shy.  

You press your ear to his chest, to feel, and listen, and then feel some more. His skin is warm and sticky, still, from sleep. Sticky enough that your ear almost gets suctioned on there and you can hear the steady, rhythmic beat of his heart beneath your cheek more than his voice. 

Thumping. 

B-dum. B-dum. B-dum.

“I know.” you say. Barely audible. You don’t want to risk drowning out that sound. Of his heartbeat. You close your eyes and let it fill you, every hollow, aching part of you.  

B-dum. B-dum. B-dum.

Time feels cruel. You don’t say it, but you feel it. Time that keeps slipping through your fingers, dragging you both forward. But for now, there’s this. 

For now, it’s enough.  

It has to be.

“I didn’t get you anything.” you whisper again, even quieter this time, as though saying it aloud might further cement your failure. 

Your breath feels shallow, as though the confession has siphoned all the air from your lungs. You can feel his chest rise and fall beneath you, his warmth enveloping you, but it’s not enough to quiet the churn of guilt in your stomach. Your hands fidget against the hollow in the middle, that perfect slope that you imagine deepens every time you lay on it, tracing patterns in the heat of his skin.  

You didn’t. You didn’t get him anything because nothing felt like enough. If love wasn’t enough, how could a thing — a mere object, bought and wrapped and handed over — ever suffice? How could you trust that a trinket, something so tangible and small and fleeting, could carry the weight of everything you wanted him to know? What you needed him to feel? Everything you couldn’t say. If love wasn’t enough, how could you put your faith in anything else?  

If love wasn’t enough, how could anything be?  

“That’s fine.” he says. He’s impressively calm, unbothered, compared to your chronic restlessness. His fingers brush over your arm in slow, lazy strokes, as if to soothe you. He shifts slightly beneath you, adjusting his arm around your back. His fingertips trail lightly against your spine.  

Tap. Tap. Tap.

But his reassurance doesn’t land. You can’t stop. You can’t stop the words from spilling out, your voice trembling, faster now, desperate to explain, disjointed and raw. “I just-” You swallow hard. Your throat tightens. You press your cheek harder against his chest. “You already have it all. I didn’t know what to get you that you couldn’t just…get yourself. And I- I ran out of time…time. I thought about it too long, and then I woke up today, and it was too late.”  

“Sweetie…”

Your hands press against him, fingers curling slightly, clinging to the safety of his presence. You can’t look at him. You can’t risk it. You can’t risk seeing the disappointment that might linger in his eyes. The possibility of it burning in there would undo you completely, and you’re already teetering on the edge.  

You keep your gaze fixed on his collarbone, unable to look up. 

You can’t risk it. 

“Sweetie, stop.” he says. He’s firm. The words slice through your spiralling thoughts.  

You hear the barely there hiss of his breath, a flicker of frustration. And in that moment, your chest tightens, and the guilt surges forward. You fucked up. He exhales a soft huff that brushes against the crown of your head. You feel the faintest shift in his chest. You’ve said too much, and now you’ve ruined something.  

Everything.

But then his arms tighten around you, pulling you closer. He wraps himself around you like armor. Firm, his hands warm against your back, his hold so secure that it feels like the world outside of him doesn’t exist. He wraps himself around you so completely. The kind of embrace that makes you feel small and safe, protected in a way that nothing else does.  

He holds you tighter, tighter still, until the edges of you blur into him. He holds you so tightly you know you’d have to fight to escape. Until you know that escape is impossible.

Not that you’d ever try. You’d never want to.  

“Sorry.” you murmur against his chest.  

“No.” he says, sharp and immediate with an insistence that leaves no room for doubt. His hands move, one slipping up to the nape of your neck, his thumb brushing softly against your skin, the other splaying wide across your back. “No, no. You were right.” His voice softens and drops into something gentler. 

You hesitate, confused, and your body tenses slightly against him. He must feel it, because his hand on your back begins to move in slow, soothing circles, the friction of his palm against your shirt creating a faint warmth.  

“I have everything.” he continues.  

He pauses, and the silence stretches out. And again, all you can hear is the steady thrum of his heart beneath your ear. 

Beating.

B-dum. B-dum. B-dum.

The rhythmic pulse of life. It’s almost enough to drown out the self-doubt still clinging to you.  

“Right ‘ere.” he finally says, his voice breaking just slightly on the words.  

And then he inhales, so deep you feel the tremor in him, the slow expansion of his chest pressing into yours, the way he seems to pull the air in as if it might just be the thing holding him together. He holds it in. Exhales slowly. Like he’s releasing something, letting it go into the space between you. 

“I have you ‘ere.” he whispers. “That’s enough.”  

You don’t move. You don’t speak. You just lie there, your body pressed against his, your hands gripping him. His words feel warmer and heavier than his body, sinking into your skin, and for the first time in hours — maybe days — it begins to ease.  

Slowly, cautiously, you lift your head. You finally look up at him, chin resting on his chest — right in that special spot. When your eyes finally meet his, you see nothing but softness. There’s no disappointment there. No frustration. Just him. Just Alex, looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world that matters.  

And for a moment, the ache eases.  

You search his face, your gaze tracing the faint shadows beneath his eyes, the curve of his mouth, the messy curls that fall across his forehead. He doesn’t look away. He doesn’t blink. He just watches you, patient and steady, like he’s willing you to understand.  

You do. 

You let yourself believe him.  

For a moment, you let yourself believe that you are enough. 

So you watch.  

You look, and you study, and you wish — desperately — that your eyes were fitted with tiny microscopes so you wouldn’t miss a thing. You don’t want to miss a thing. You want to memorise every detail, every imperfection, every fleeting expression that might escape you if you look away too soon.  

Your gaze drifts to the corners of his eyes, to the faint wrinkles that fan out like delicate etchings. You start counting them, one by one, as you always do, wondering if there are more than last year, or even yesterday. You always count, and yet you never remember the last number. 

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Your eyes move to his forehead, and you study the lines there, the ones that seem a little deeper than they used to. They’re there constantly now, carved into his skin like tiny scars from years of raising his eyebrows just so. He says it’s to soften his expression, to make himself look less unapproachable to the outside world.  

You think it’s ridiculous.  

You’ve told him that before — how silly he looks when he does it, like he’s trying to imitate some wide-eyed, overly eager version of himself. You’ve teased him for it, and he’s laughed, but still, he does it.  

He says his face falls weird when he’s neutral, and this, apparently, is the fix. You think it’s unnecessary. You like his face as it is — neutral, serious, tired, upset. Whatever he is, it’s fine.  

Because it’s him.  

It’s him, and it’s real, and you wouldn’t change a thing.  

Your hand moves instinctively, your fingertips brushing against the faint lines there, on his forehead. You trace them gently, lightly, and harder as you’re trying to memorise their shape. He doesn’t flinch or pull away. He just watches you, patient as ever, his dark eyes soft and steady, as always. 

“You’re staring again.” he says. There’s no real reproach in it. He doesn’t mind the spotlight when that spotlight is you.

“I know.” you murmur, not bothering to deny it.  

He raises an eyebrow slightly, and there’s that look again — that playful tilt of his lips, the one that’s almost imperceptible, like he’s fighting the urge to smile.  

“Am I passing inspection?” he asks, his voice laced with amusement.  

You huff out a quiet laugh, shaking your head. “You always do.”  

His expression softens further, the teasing edge fading. His hand comes up to rest over yours, his fingers curling gently around your wrist, holding you there against him.  

“You don’t have to, you know.” he says quietly.  

“Don’t have to what?”  

“Look so hard. It’s like…like you’re afraid I’ll disappear if you don’t.”  

The words catch you off guard, and for a moment, you don’t know what to say. Your hand stills against his forehead, and your breath hitches slightly, your chest tightening.  

“I just…” you start, your voice trailing off as you search for the right words. “I just don’t want to miss anything.”  

“You won’t.” he says simply, his thumb brushing lightly against your wrist. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”  

You nod, but that ache in your chest doesn’t fully subside. Because time doesn’t care about promises, and no matter how tightly you hold on, it always finds a way to slip through your fingers.  

“You’re struggling to breathe.” he announces, his steady voice pulling you back to yourself.  

You hadn’t noticed until now, hadn’t realised how shallow your breaths had become, how your lungs felt heavy, like they were carrying too much. The moment he says it, the awareness hits you — harder and harder, a wave crashing over you, dragging you under.  

Your chest tightens, and the sting in your nose starts to surface, hot and sharp. Your eyes feel like they’re being pressed from the inside, the pressure swelling until you can’t ignore it anymore.  

“Don’t cry, my baby.” he whispers, a plea as much as an attempt at comfort.  

But it’s too late.  

The cracks in you deepen, widening into fissures that can’t be held together anymore. The tears come, spilling over before you can stop them, before you can even think to try.  

He tries. He always tries. 

He wipes at your cheeks with the pads of his thumbs, murmuring soft reassurances, holding you closer, tighter, like he can somehow stop the flow through sheer force of will. 

But it doesn’t work. He knows it won’t work.  

So, finally, he lets it happen. He lets you break, lets the tears fall freely, lets the overwhelming weight of it all pour out of you. Because it’s too much.

It’s too much love, too little time.

And when love feels like this, when it swells so big it aches, clothing is just another barrier. A suggestion, for that reason, never an imposition. 

He breaks it down with clumsy hands, fumbling with the neckline of your shirt, pulling it over your head in a movement that’s more desperate than it could ever be classed as graceful. He doesn’t pause, doesn’t hesitate, just keeps going until there’s nothing between you but skin.  

The moment you feel him — him — warm and solid, the familiar press of his chest against yours — it hurts a little less.  

You press yourself against him, a wet cheek against his shoulder, hands clutching at his back because you’re still afraid he might slip away. His arms wrap around you again, this time even tighter, to the point it almost hurts. It hurts. But not as much as not having him hold you. His hands spread across your bare skin like he’s trying to hold you together, to keep the fissures from splitting into something irreparable.  

He doesn’t speak now. There’s nothing left to say. He just holds you, lets you cry into him, lets the warmth of his body seep into yours, lets the moment stretch out until the edges of your pain start to dull.  

And in his silence, you feel it. The unspoken truth. The promise that doesn’t need words.  

The fissures won’t turn into holes. Not with him here. Not with the way he holds you, the way he keeps you from falling apart completely.  

You can breathe again.

And you can breathe him in again.  

Ah, there it is. That sweetness. It clings to him, a scent that feels like home. It soothes. It’s calming you.  

But now…now, he’s restless.  

You feel it first in the subtle fidgeting of his fingers against your skin, then in the shifting of his limbs, the tightening and untightening of muscles as he tries — and fails — to settle. The closeness that was comforting moments ago has turned into a puzzle, the edges too tight, the pieces overlapping awkwardly.  

“Oh.” you gasp softly. He’s restless all over, his body betraying him.  

“Sorry, girl.” he mumbles, his voice tinged with embarrassment. His hands move hesitantly, unsure whether to pull you closer or let you go. “I didn’t mean to. It- it’s just… you’re naked. Almost. It just…”  

“It’s…” you start, but you trail off.  

“I’m sorry.” he repeats, firmer this time, like he needs you to believe him.  

Why would he be sorry?  

It’s only…natural.  

“Who are you?” you ask suddenly, pulling back just enough to look at him, your eyes narrowing in mock suspicion.  

He blinks, startled, but before he can answer, you lean in again, pressing a kiss to the dip in his collarbone.  

“Just me.” he says with a nervous giggle. His cheeks flush, the color creeping up his neck, and you feel his chest rise sharply beneath your palms.  

He’s so fucking cute when he’s like this.  

“I don’t know you.” you tease. 

You’re purring.  

Up now, your knees bracketing his sides, your hands splayed across his chest. His breathing quickens further, his flush deepening as he looks up at you. From his point of view, there’s something there. A spark, a shift, something playful. But your eyes are still red, rimmed with the remnants of tears. 

And yet, he can’t help it.  

Not when you’re like this, pressing up against him, leaning over him, commanding his attention so effortlessly. His eyes flicker over you, wide and unblinking, like headlights catching something fragile in the dark. He knows he should look away, should steady himself, but he can’t.  

He can’t. He can’t. He can’t.

A palm reaches out, hesitant at first, then bold. It cups you, warm and engulfing, his fingers splaying instinctively, mapping every inch of you. The other joins. 

“Security! Security!” you call out dramatically, a breathless laughter.  

The corners of your eyes crunch as you smile, betraying any hint of real fear. The peaks of your skin, hot beneath his squeezing fingertips, send a rush of heat between you both, and you feel his hand falter for a split second before tightening its hold.  

The act of innocence.  

“I don’t mean to…” he says, his voice dipping low, a rasp threading through his words. He tilts his head back against the pillow, his eyes half-lidded, the corner of his mouth twitching. “I’m just a tortured artist, baby.”  

“Yeah?” you challenge, shifting your hips, enough to feel the friction between you both.  

“Yeah.” he breathes.  

Hips roll.  

Heat intensifies.  

The wetness that once blurred your vision now pools low, deep, undeniable. It seeps into the space between you, pulling you both into its gravity.  

He groans softly. And…God! It’s so beautiful…his grip on you tightening as his body moves in sync with yours. His gaze never leaves you, even as his lips part, his breath hitching with every shift, every roll, every press of your skin against his.  

You smile, a wicked, knowing smile, and lean down until your lips are just a breath away from his. “Tortured?” you murmur.  

“Always.” he whispers, his words swallowed by the heat between you as his hands guide you closer, closer, until there’s no space left at all.

“Is that solely a bad thing?” 

It strikes him harder than you intended. His body stills, his breath catching as he processes what you’ve just said. He doesn’t answer right away, his silence stretching out, heavy and charged, while you wait.  

You’re hesitant in your approach, your fingers hovering, dancing lightly across his skin. 

Tap. Tap. Tap.

A rhythm that mirrors the beat of your heart. You’re waiting, always waiting, for his sign.  

And then it comes.  

A nod. Another squeeze of his hands on your breasts.  

Green light.

You move, reaching in just barely, your fingers brushing against the warmth of him. He’s sticky already.  

“I think…that…suffering is necessary.” he says, his voice uneven, halting. His legs twitch beneath you, begging to squeeze together, to curl inward, but he can’t. You’re holding him down without even trying, just by being there, your weight and presence enough to pin him in place.  

“In order to- to access the high levels of feeling- fuck-” His voice cuts off, his words swallowed by a sharp intake of breath.  

He can’t.  

His right hand quits its job of squeezing, abandoning your chest to join yours below. His fingers wrap around yours, warm and insistent, guiding you, begging you, leading you.  

“Of love.” he finally concludes, his voice trembling.  

Love.

It echoes in your mind, that single word reverberating.  

“Profound…” you start, leaving the word open, unfinished, unsure of how to follow it.  

Your hips shift, your body moving instinctively, rubbing yourself against his thigh in time with the rhythm of your holding hands. The sensation sends sparks shooting through you, but your focus stays on him, on the way his breath hitches, on the way his fingers grip yours tighter.  

He’s soft there, on his thighs. The skin is plush and fluffy in a way he rarely shows to anyone but you. It’s intimate, that softness, a vulnerability he keeps hidden from the world but offers to you without hesitation.  

“…ness.” he completes.  

Profoundness.  

It feels bigger than the moment, bigger than the two of you, and yet it’s tethered here, grounded in the heat and closeness of your bodies.  

His hand tightens over yours, guiding you with more urgency now, his movements less controlled, more desperate. His eyes lock on yours, wide and glistening, and you can see everything in them — his need, his fear, his devotion.  

And love. Always love.  

You lean forward, lips brushing against his ear, and whisper, “Show me?”  

A command, a plea, a promise all wrapped into one. And he does. 

“I can count this as my present…if it makes you feel better.” 

His fingers toy with the bow on your panties, that delicate little detail that always seems to fuck with his head. It’s so small, so dainty, so perfectly out of place between the rough pads of his fingertips. His hands aren’t particularly big, but somehow, you make them feel enormous. You make him feel enormous.

Almost…wrong.  

You nod, your breath catching, and the sight of you offering yourself like that — open, willing, waiting — pulls a groan from deep in his chest.  

“God…” he breathes, the word dragged out.  

The way you give yourself to him. Every time. All the time. It feels so wrong.  

It feels like the only thing that’s ever been right.  

His hand dips lower, and he rubs the tip of himself over the fabric that clings to you, already damp, already sticking to every curve and dip of your shape. Now it sticks to him too, and the friction of it, the teasing pressure, makes his jaw clench.  

You shiver, your body trembles as you try to hold yourself steady, but it’s too much.  

And yet, not enough.  

Your legs weaken, and you drop back down onto him, pressing yourself against his lap with a need that borders on desperation. The heat of him, the solidity, the sheer realness of him, makes your breath stutter.  

It’s too much-  

It’s not enough.  

He exhales sharply, his hands flying to your hips to hold you steady, to keep you from sliding away, but his grip isn’t tight enough to stop you from moving. It never is. You grind against him, the thin barrier of fabric doing nothing to dull the sensation, and his head falls back against the pillow with a muffled curse.  

“Fuck, baby…” His voice is strained now, thick with the weight of everything he feels but can’t quite say.  

The bow beneath his fingertips feels almost absurd in contrast to the heat between you, but it grounds him somehow. He tugs at it gently, watching it stretch and twist, and the sight of it makes his head spin. It’s delicate, almost too delicate. 

Like you.  

He knows better. You aren’t fragile. You just let him treat you like you are. It ruins him every time.  

You both need more.  

His hand slips lower, finding the edge of the fabric, and with a slow movement, he pushes it to the side. The wetness there makes him shiver, his breath catching as he lets his fingers toy with you for a moment, drawing soft, stuttering sounds from your lips.  

And then, finally, he pushes himself in.  

Slowly.

You wince, your body tensing, and the ache is back. That familiar, consuming ache — the one that feels like it starts in your chest and radiates outward, like it’s eating you alive.  

The closest of closeness.  

The most you could possibly get.  

And you still feel so utterly empty.  

He notices, of course he notices. He always notices.  

“It’s okay, baby, it’s ‘kay…shhh.” he whispers, like he’s trying to soothe a wild animal — you feel like one. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, pressing you gently into the curve of his neck. “I don’t like to think of people…of…I don’t want to think of you suffering. But then you do.”  

His hips roll, slow and measured, and the stretch of him inside you makes your breath hitch. It’s too much and not enough all at once, and you don’t know how to reconcile the two.  

“You breathe at such a rate that you’re bound to suffer, sweetie.” he murmurs, his words almost lost in the rhythm of his movements.  

“I…I don’t know if it’s pain or pleasure.” you choke out, your voice muffled against his shoulder. Tears sting at the corners of your eyes, and you sniffle, clinging to him, to the only thing keeping you from falling apart completely.  

His pace is so slow, so tender, that it hurts in its kindness. Every thrust feels like a question, every withdrawal like an apology.  

“Reality is pain,” he says, his voice breaking slightly, “but we bring out the pleasure, in each other, with each other.”  

You can feel it in the way his hands roam your body, always searching, always reassuring. But even as he speaks, you can tell he’s fighting his own demons. His mind flickers through the darker corners of himself, the parts he tries to keep hidden. He wonders if he’s hurting you more than helping you, if his presence in your life is a blessing or a curse.  

You, meanwhile, can’t stop cataloging him.  

The way his jaw clenches and unclenches with every thrust. The beads of sweat gathering at his temple. The soft, almost imperceptible tremor in his voice when he whispers your name.  

You wonder if he feels it too — that emptiness. If he’s trying to fill it the same way you are, with this act, with this closeness.  

You wonder if it’s working for him.  

Because for you, it’s both too much and not enough.  

You press your lips to his shoulder, kissing the damp skin there, tasting salt of sweat and tears, and heat, and him.

“Do you feel it?”  

His movements slow even further, his body stilling for a moment.  

“I feel everything.” he finally says. His hands tighten on you, pulling you closer, as if that’s even possible. “You make me feel everything.”  

So you kept offering yourself to him. Because it was the only thing that made sense. Because in those moments, when words failed him, when he avoided eye contact like the answers were buried somewhere else, he’d offer you the deeper meaning of his touch.  

He was avoidant, yes. Could be classed an asshole, if you wanted to simplify it. He wouldn’t talk. Not too often, not too much. 

Unless he did.  

When he thought you needed it so desperately that you wouldn’t make it out without the explicitness, without the explanations. He’d relent. He’d offer you a sliver of his mind, a glimpse into that labyrinth of thoughts he kept so well-guarded.  

And sometimes, those words would only make it worse.  

It’s hard to overstate. The impact he had. 

Has.  

The chokehold.  

“Tighter.” Your voice is a rasp, your breath already unsteady, but you say it anyway. His hand rests on your throat, not pressing yet, just holding, and you arch into the weight of it. “Tighter.”  

His gaze sharpens. There’s something unreadable in his eyes. A pause. A moment of hesitation. Then his grip tightens, and the air between you seems to still.  

He turns pain into something beautiful.  

“Take me.” you whisper, your voice a low, almost imperceptible plead. His fingers begin to move.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Against your neck, as if testing the rhythm of your pulse.  

Intuitive. Always.  

Then he takes.  

His free hand finds your jaw, thumb pressing against your lower lip until your mouth falls open. He’s watching you, watching the way your body responds to him, the way your chest rises and falls in its shallowness.  

Knuckles knock against your teeth as he slides his fingers inside, pads pressing against your tastebuds, filling the space until you’re choking on him. Nails scrape against the back of your throat, and you gag, tears springing to your eyes.  

Impactful.  

“Good girl.” he murmurs. Like velvet over steel. The praise is quiet, but it ignites something primal in you. You whimper around his fingers, and he groans, barely holding himself together.  

He watches the tears spill over, watches the way your lips stretch around him, and something in him snaps. His hand tightens further on your throat, cutting off just enough air to make you feel weightless. To make you float in that space between pleasure and pain. Until you can’t tell them apart. Until you can’t settle on either one. 

You grab at his wrist, not to pull him away but to anchor yourself to him. Because…he’s everything. Your air, your gravity, your entire world condensed into the roughness of his touch and the way he looks at you.  

“Breathe, baby.” he says. His hand loosens slightly, giving you just enough to draw in a shaky breath around his fingers. “I’ve got you. Always.”  

You believe him.  

You have to.

He is your only salvation from this pain. The doer and undoer. Cause and effect. The wound and the salve.  

And the aura of him remains, remains…

Remains.

“Oh-”  

“Fuck-”  

The words tear from both of you in unison. A tangled cry. You’re unravelling together. And it feels like the closest you’ve ever been to him. And yet…it still isn’t enough.  

His hands grip your hips tightly, fingers pressing into your flesh. He thrusts deep, every movement a combination of tenderness and force, as though he’s pouring everything he can into you, trying to fill the empty spaces you both know he never fully can.  

At this moment, it feels like he could.  

He drags against every nerve inside you, heavy and thick, and you feel the way he throbs, the heat of him building, threatening to spill over. It’s overwhelming, the way he stretches you, the way every inch of him feels. He moves with an unsteady rhythm now, hips stuttering, his breath hot and ragged against your neck.  

You’re both trembling. You can’t tell where your body ends and his begins.  

“Shit…” he gasps, voice strained, breaking, as his pace falters. He’s so deep now, the tip of him brushing places that make you cry out.

Again. And again. And again.

That make your body tighten around him, pulling him even closer. It’s messy now, desperate. He’s losing himself inside you.  

“Fuck, baby, I-” His voice catches, and then he’s gone. 

You feel him twitch inside you, sharp and insistent, and then he’s spilling, warmth flooding you in waves. It’s a slow, pulsating release, and you feel every surge of it, every shudder that wracks his body as he empties himself into you. He presses as deep as he can go, burying himself completely, as if he could carve a place for himself inside you, as if he could leave a part of himself that will never fade.  

He’s soothing from the inside. A plea for forgiveness he can’t bring himself to ask for aloud. He gives you little pieces of himself — small, fragmented traces of his love, his essence, his everything.  

And it’s insufficient.  

It will always be insufficient for the vastness of your longing, for the endless craving that gnaws at the edges of your soul. He feels it too. You can tell by the way his hands tighten on your waist, by the way his forehead presses against yours, like he’s trying to fuse the two of you together.  

He knows.  

He can’t help but feel that way, that what he gives you will never be enough. But what more can he offer than this? Than himself?

The peak caves slowly, unbearably, and it’s not just pleasure — it’s everything. It’s love and desperation and grief for the moments that slip through your fingers. 

It’s heartbreaking.  

So you smile.  

You don’t mean to do it. You don’t even realise you’re doing it until you see the reflection of it in his eyes. But it’s there — a soft, almost involuntary curve of your lips that speaks to something deeper than words.  

You don’t have to keep smiling.  

But you do.  

Because this is the best thing.  

The best he can give you. The best you can take. The best the two of you can be in a world that feels like it’s always working against you.  

And when the peak finally crests, when your body shatters around him, you don’t stop smiling.  

Even as the tears spill over. Even as the ache in your chest sharpens. Even as the world starts to creep back in, threatening to pull him away from you.  

You smile, because for this fleeting, fragile moment, he’s yours…

Yours. Yours. Yours.

…Completely.

He gives you a great desire to love. 

a/n: Happy Birthday, Al.

[smallestapplin]

Hellooo! Good evening or um good morning so yea I was watching G1 transformers and canonically mirage is like loaded like he's from the upper class. So I um immediately thought that he's sugar daddy material. Like man only picks the finest/expensive cars even from G1. So I'm asking for like um sugar daddy mirage with a human female reader and since he doesn't know how to woo her, he practically buys her attention and time. Like he enjoys watching her spend his money. Casually suggesting that a top that he sees while she's scrolling on her phone and says that it would fit her and that she should buy it. Coincidentally, the color of the top matches his paint. Omg I've made this long huhu now I feel shy. 😿😿

Wait this is actually so cute and funny, I love it. I hope I did this right for you!💖

-

-

Mirage isn’t use to human ways of living and courtship, but he tries so hard to be friendly and welcoming, he wants you to know he’s safe to go to for anything! But falling for you wasn’t on that list, you’re such a tiny thing compared to him, he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

But how could he not? You’re so funny, so kind, always helping him learn more about your culture and Earth in general, even if that means he won’t ever live down calling a trees ‘organic speed stoppers’, but your laughter made it all the more worth it to embarass himself.

Mirage isn’t sure how to court you the human way, so why not his way? It’s not like he can ask anyone either, lest the tell you or make fun of him for falling for a human.

He shows off, racing Sunstreaker and Sideswipe often, doing dangerous stunts, taking sharp turns, making sure he’s flashy enough for you in his alt mode. He lives for your cheers, lives on your priase. The twins know what he’s doing, it’s what ever racer does to gain the affection of someone.

Yet you don’t pick up on that, you gush over him sure, telling him how cool that was! How cool he is! But it doesn’t seem to click, not that Mirage can fault for you that, you’ve never had anyone court you like that.

So, why not gifts? Gifts are a universal love language that can’t go wrong!

“Mirage, you really didn’t have to get me anything, being with you is more than enough.”

How you have him wrapped around your tiny organic digit, making him swoon and spark pulse.

“It’s no problem, really! I wanna show you how much I care about you, so it wasn’t difficult to find a way to buy things for ya!”

He’s too kind, even bought everything himself after hacking (very easily) into your phone and used his own funds to spoil you. Until he got a com from you the day all the packages arrived.

“How many things did you buy me!?”

“Eh, it wasn’t costly so I don’t really remember.”

“Wasn’t costly? Mirage, this must’ve cost my life’s savings!”

You thank him over and over and over again, but he doesn’t mind, always smiling at you and simply asking if you liked what he bought you. It makes your cheeks burn when he does that, asking so sweetly, honestly you might think he’d have an ulterior motive.

The skirts, the dresses, the tops all ranging fm cozy to cute to flirty, pants much the same, he’s even bought you expensive consoles, games, and even things you complained about needing to replace or needing in general.

Each time you cry he doesn’t need to buy you anything, yet the large bot just looks at you with hearts in his optics telling you it’s fine.

Soon nearly sixty percent of your outfits are all things he’s bought you, like a silent claim over you, you can’t move in your home without being reminded of him.

But then that top came in, the one he had been waiting for, and once it did he didn’t bother trying to hide his want to see it. He sits in your drive way in his alt mode, awaiting to see how you look, and by the all spark he’s nt disapppointed.

“Does it look okay?”

You aren’t exactly a big fan of crop tops, but the high waisted jeans you are wearing cover you enough to feel comfortable. The crop top itself is loose and flowy, honestly you could see yourself wearing it around more in the house.

It’s mainly blue with tie dyed black, white, and red, matching his colors perfectly.

You look stunning.

You jump a little, hearing his engines rev loudly. You laugh softly at the display.

“I take it you like it?”

“Remind me to get you a sporty top in those colors.” He sounds near breathless.

“My, Mirage, if i didn’t know any better I’d say you just want us to match.” You tease, laughing at how his engine outright purrs at your words.

Oh, if only you knew how right you were.

Matching, like a couple, like the couple he desperately wants you two to be, loudly claiming you as his.

[poisonouswonderland]

Canine!Reader x Octanville Dorm

Azul Ashengrotto ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Truly? He didn’t expect to be as fond of you as he was. You were silly, clumsy and loud.. simultaneously, you were joyful and reminded him to see the bright side. You made him laugh and smile so often his cheeks hurt. You accepted and adored him as he was which he couldn’t be more (silently) grateful for

• You compliment him at every turn— your stream of consciousness was constantly pouring out of your mouth! Which didn’t bother him as much as it made him blush

“Hi! I missed you.” You blurt out as if it’s the easiest thing in the world, tail wagging in excitement just from seeing him.

“I—” He has to blink away the surprise and force his voice to cooperate instead of crack, “Yes, I-I’m happy to see you as well.”

• Azul needs a while to get accustomed to your physical affection. You’d pounce on him and pepper his face in kisses in the courtyard if he’d let you, but he prefers to keep PDA to a minimum. He can see (and appreciates) how you try not to hound him for hugs, cuddles and kisses. You’ll bounce on your heels, tail going berserk as you wait for him to hug you or pet the top of your head

• He wants to reward your devotion and loyalty, it means a great deal to him.. you help him realize that’s just being in a relationship.

“All I want is you, my silly fish!”

“Not a fish, silly pup.” Azul corrects gently, his thumb mindlessly stroking your soft ear.

“Silly cephalopod doesn’t roll off the tongue, though.”

“I don’t have to be a silly anything.” He offered, turning his head to look at you when his nose met yours. Your smile was too wide, eyes too bright and heart too full.

“Fine, but you have to be mine!”

• Fond didn’t begin to cover it, now. He loved you.

Floyd Leech ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• Y’know he was actually worried he’d be bored of you one day? Or worse, if took one of his bad moods out on you and lost you because of it. He’d never thought about something like that before. And he made it your problem

“Oi, shrimpy, you know I care about you, right? You think I’m nice to you, right?” Floyd asks as he’s— carefully— pulling on your ears.

“Ah! You’re such a bully, you’re lucky I love you!”

A perfect answer if he’s ever heard one.

• He knows he could stand to be kinder to you, though. You deal with endless antics, pet names, jokes, puns and, of course, squeezes. He doesn’t mean to be so rough with you, like when he pets you too hard or pulls your tail to make you mad. At least you give as good as you get, tackling him and matching his playful moods

• You’re painfully patient yet honest with him, on par with Jade! Like with his tweel, he doesn’t acknowledge it but that doesn’t mean it goes unnoticed. You’re silently added to the very short list of people he trusts

• Floyd loves how you somehow always bring an adventure to his day. You heard a rumor there’s buried treasure in Heartslabyul’s rose garden? Riddle won’t mind if the two of you check that out!

• Yeah, he lets you think you’re his guard dog but, in actuality, he’s fiercely protective of you. He recalls the evening that he nearly got expelled because someone hurt your feelings. His temper spikes at the memory of your face, and how hard you tried to hide the mark the comments left.

“Didn’t know they let dogs in here.” A patron of the lounge snickered.

“Hopefully Ashengrotto can get the smell out.”

Your ears drooped, though. It was as if the cafe went silent so he could hear the heartbreaking, tell tale sniff before you got up to leave. Floyd’s usual sharp smile dropped, his bi-colored eyes moving to your offenders with a dangerous glare… He doesn’t remember much else after that.

No one was rude to you again, though, so how bad could it have been!?

• You changed how he felt about mornings, too. He used to be the worst to wake up, losing quite a few alarm clocks to his bad mood. It’s impossible to wake up grumpy when you he feels the gentle thump thump thump of your tail against the mattress, telling him that you’re awake and simply happy to be next to him. Floyd ends up pulling you closer to hide his growing smile from you

Jade Leech ⁎⁺˳✧༚

• It may not have looked like it but under his aloof demeanor, he was ecstatic to have a new member for his club. You loved being outdoors, loved being with him! You were enthusiastic about his interest in flora, specifically mushrooms, and would ask every question under the sun if only because his eyes lit up when you did

• He checks you for ticks after hiking

• Jade inadvertently compares you to his terrariums. As your boyfriend he assumes that it’s his responsibility to look after your well being. He does it for his brother after all. However, while care of Floyd is a chore he’s happy to do, taking care of you is a choice that makes him happy. He keeps snacks for you on his person, fixes your uniform when it’s crooked and if you’re not feeling well he’s the one checking your temperature

• You do things that remind him you’re very much not a terrarium, though. Like jumping in his lap during a study date for a kiss or bolting away from his side when Ruggie steals your backpack (in good fun you assured him, luckily for the beast) or bringing him random gifts merely because you thought of him when you saw it

“What’s… this?” Jade’s smile widens in confusion. You’re a continuously curious creature that delightfully confounds him at every turn. He longs to understand you, though it seems he never will.

“A survival pack! Look this bracelet—“ You’re grabbing his hand and clicking the chunky cord into place around his wrist, “—can hold 550 pounds, so if you needed to, I don’t know, lower yourself off’a mountain; you could!” You were out of breath from explaining everything as you took them out of the box.

“Why would I... Where did you acquire such thoughtful items, dearest?”

“Someone over there was selling them.” You mumbled quickly, rummaging around until you found something that brought back your excitement, “and and and they said if I bought everything they’d gimme stickers! Look, it’s your favorite! Let’s put them on your new water bottle!”

Mushroom stickers. You bought him an entire camping essential kit for mushroom stickers

Jade sighs fondly, “You are something else.”

• He’s weak for your pleading puppy-dog eyes. He has actually covered your face with his hand and looked away because he can’t tell you no when you do that! You try not to abuse the power.. but he can be just as manipulative, so you call it even

• Keeping up with his brother is nothing compared to your boundless energy. Jade loves every minute of being with you but finds your sleepy self adorable. He can read in peace while you rest, sprawled out in his lap. You’re playing a game quietly on your phone, trying to keep your eyes open as his nails gently scratching your back and lull you to sleep.

“We have to be up early tomorrow.” He warns, “You should stop resisting it.”

You yawn, “I know. I jus’ wanna spend more time with you.”

His heart aches at your tired confession, though it’s not the first time you’ve said it. You’re always fighting for ‘five more minutes’, even if you’ve been beside him for hours. It’s endearing.

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises.

After a moment he feels you grow heavier in his lap, your breathing changes and he knows you believe him enough to let yourself fall asleep.

[yaut-jaknowit]

I don’t usually request second parts but after that cliffhanger I’m BEGGING for a second part🙏🙏🙏

They Both Reached For The Gun Part 2

Pairings: Wolf (Male Yautja) x AMAB!Reader

Word Count: 2512

Summary: Wolf finds blood pouring a deadly wound on your side. He has to act fast.

Author Note: I'm gonna be honest, I don't know if this was for this one or the other one. But it's a fifty-fifty chance to hit the mark. I do love my cliffhangers, don't I?

Masterlist

Ao3

Part 1

For the first time in all of your time spent together, Wolf’s eyes filled to the brim with fear. He’s looking at the vibrant, red blood on his hands. It dripped to the floor of his ship, staining it a color he never wish to see. Not from you.

One moment passes until he acts. Determination fills his entire being. You swallowed down the lump in your throat and find yourself looking at the blood as well. It’s weird. There’s no pain. Not that your brain has registered. You do feel a bit loopy and weak in your limps. “Wolf?” you slurred in a soft voice. But the Yautja was already up, on his feet.

As he moves, he doesn’t look at you. Not truly. The bright yellow of his eyes never meets yours. All he focuses on is the blood pouring from a wound covered by a shirt. Fabric that Wolf simply tears from your body after he retrieved the necessary items for you. You don’t try to cover yourself up in surprise. Instead, you simply watch him scoop you up into his arms and carry you to the nearest counter or table.

Wolf lays you flat on the table. Despite the fact he worked wound far longer that you’ve been alive, his hands trembled. The Yautja growled angrily to himself and redoubled his effects. You wanted to reach up and comfort him. To tell him everything will be all right. All you felt was exhaustion. Oh-so tired. You just needed a small nap. The day had been long and grueling. You deserve a nap. Then, you’ll be fine.

The moment he saw your eyes starting to flutter shut, panic struck him. Both of his hands were wet with blood. He used one to pinch your chin and gave your head a harsh shake. You jolted at the movement and whined when he interrupted your sleep. Wolf could care less if you were mad. Good. He wanted you want. Be angry at him. If it meant you stayed away. He’ll take it.

“Stay. Awake,” he demanded with one last shake of your head. He needed both of his hands. All he could hope for is that you listened to him. For once.

A low grumble fell from your lips. “I’m tired,” you complained to him. How dare he wake you from a nap! He knows not to disturb you from a nap. “Let… me sleep.” Your words began to slur.

He cursed lowly to himself and finished up the paste. His next actions will surely wake you up. Through the blurriness of your gaze, Wolf scooped up a bright blue gel that stung your nostrils. You curled your upper lip and turned away from the smell. He brings it to the side of your body he was cleaning. The movements were soft and gentle. Then, he brough his fingers to the wound. They were pressed the gel and smeared it across injured flesh.

The scream that left your throat terrified and pained your mate at the same time. Yet, his hand didn’t move. Wolf firmly held you down on the table with one hand on the center of your chest. You fought him. With every ounce of strength you had left. You did everything in your power to make the pain stop. It burned with the heat of the sun to your skin. You sobbed for him to stop, pushing at his hands. But, the Yautja pressed on. Even after you lost consciousness.

Your body went limp on the table. Wolf instantly checked for a pulse and found one. Relief flood him. The Yautja didn’t stop his work. The paste was pressed into the wound, burning the flesh. No more blood poured freely. Finally, Wolf started to clean the rest of the affected area.

Once he cleaned the skin, an adhesive patch was placed over the open wound. For a moment, Wolf stepped back to give you a once over. No other spots were leaking of life essence any living created needed. Including himself.

Wolf scooped you off the now dirty counter and carried you out of the medical wing of the ship. Somehow, despite the huge weight difference, you had dragged him to safety. The alien, your mate, was insanely proud of your accomplishment. Without you, he would’ve been captured by the oomans. Over his head body would he ever let that happen.

Battle hardened eyes turned soft when they gaze down at your peaceful features. After the events of the day, he was thankful to see you rest. He believed you to be fine now. Since the wound was closed. Their medicine will heal you.

You are set down on the comforts of the shared bed. A blanket is tugged over your form, until it reached your shoulders. Wolf sat down next to you. His now cleaned hands brushed two knuckles against your cheeks. A reminder at the stark difference between his thick scales to your soft, pliant skin. How fragile you are to him. The fact you had taken a bullet and still carried him up to his ship, go it started, and off into space. Wolf leaned down and pressed his mandibles to your forehead in a mock kiss. How brave and strong you were. He knew he found his permanent mate when he first laid eyes on you.

For a few heart beats, the Yautja stays there, watching as your chest rises and falls slowly. Wolf abruptly stands up from the bed and strolls out of the bedroom. You sleep away, deep into the haunting darkness of your mind. A sleep you desperately needed.

When your brain finally decided to wake up, you sat up with a deep, croaky groan. Pain ached at your side. You fingers grazed over a bandage and whined. “Ow,” you grunted then rubbed at your crusty eyes.

It feels like you’ve slept for twenty hours straight with how tired you were. You gave a loud yawn, arms stretched high above your head. You slumped back down and looked around the room. At your side, Wolf slept, slightly curled towards you. A smile broke across your features. You leaned towards him. The movement annoyingly pulled at your injured side. You grunted again and still moved to give the alien a soft kiss to his upper mandible.

His eyes snapped open; his entire body jerking awake. You reeled back with a gasp as he hauled himself up into a sitting position. Wolf turned towards you rapidly and gripped your jaw with both hands. His gaze flickered all over you, landing onto the white patch of gauze attached to your aching side.

One hand touches at the bandage. You whimpered with a fling and tried to pull away. Wolf keeps you in place. “You’re awake,” he whispered before leaning in to give you a mock kiss/nuzzle to your cheek. You returned the gesture, eyes softly closing. “I was worried. You continued to sleep on longer than usual.”

It took you longer than you liked to admit to put the pieces together. Yesterday or something like that… Your sister, Kara, had shot Wolf. The two of you had to narrowly escape. In the process, you had been shot. That’s why you had that bandage on your side. But Wolf! Your eyes scanned over him, only finding the area you had clean up there. He was okay though. He was alive and well by the looks of it.

At first, you snorted. That snort turned into giggles. Those giggles turned into laughter. Then, tears started to stream down your face. You started to sob, gripping onto Wolf tightly. Your nails created crescent moons into his scales. Tears stained your cheeks while you blankly stared at his chest. The two of you almost either died or got captured. All because of your stupidity to trust your sister. She was your sister and had betrayed you and your mate. All for money? Fame?

Your crying grew louder and more violently. Wolf’s head jerked back, no expecting the mental break down that was hitting you. He instantly tugged you flush to his chest. Strong, muscular arms circle around you. You dobbed harder, blabbering on about stuff he could barely understand.

“It-it’s all my f-fault!” You heaved to suck air into your lungs. “I’m so-so sorry. I-I shouldn’t have let her know.” This could’ve all been resolved if Kara never knew. Then, Wolf wouldn’t have been injured; you would be back home with Wolf. Nothing wrong with the world, with your life. It’s all your fault.

A deep growl vibrated form the chest you were pressed to. You tensed up by accident, your crying coming a near stop. A few hiccups still escaping. Wolf snags you by your shoulders and yanks you backwards to find your eyes. He lowers his head and pushes into your space.

“No,” he states firmly and tightens his hands on your shoulders. “No, it’s not. You wouldn’t have known. There was now ay of knowing she would’ve done that.” You started to cry again and shook your head to deny his words. How could he lie to you? You knew he was trying to make you feel better but lying wasn’t the way.

You look into his bright yellow orbs. “But Wolf, it is!” you tried to refute against him. He must know the error of his words. “If she never came over that day, she would’ve never know. We wouldn’t be in this situation!” Despite the ferocity of your words, Wolf doesn’t budge. Not one bit. He doubles down actually.

One of his hands releases your shoulders and pinches your jaw in a firm grasp. “Listen to me, little ooman. Listen to me good. None of this is your fault. None of it. Understood?” he grounded out. You stared at him, trying to read if there was a chance to dispute his claims. But the Yautja was set in his ways. You released a sigh, shoulders sagging then attempted to nod. Wolf held onto your chin tightly.

“Words.”

“I understand,” you relented finally to him. Wolf didn’t immediately let go. He continued to stare directly into your eyes until he found something. Whatever he was looking for pleased him enough to release you from his hold. You sagged down on the bed and timidly wiped away the last of your tears. Wolf tilted your head back and used his tumbled to clean off the rest.

Wolf responded with a grunt and pulled away. “Are you hungry?” he questioned. You swallowed thickly, attempting to clear your throat before nodding your head. “What would you like?”

After being asleep for so long, you were unsure what time it is, you carelessly shrugged. “I don’t care,” you responded and played with the blanket in your lap. A single brow was raised in your direction. “What? I know I’m hungry, but I don’t know what for.” After everything that’s gone down in the last two days, your brain is still scrambled. The last thing you wanted to think about is what to eat. He could set anything in front of you and you could be happy to eat. Food was all you cared about in the moment.

The lean male snorted before slipping off of the bed. Even though he tried to hide it, you say the way he flinched. You reached out towards him. Wolf softly caught your wrist and brough it to your touch. It was a silent reminder that the survived that horrible day. The two of you get to tell the story at a later date.

Then, he releases your hand and leaves the room. You wait until the door closes before flipping backwards onto the bed. The movement pulled on your wound but you didn’t care. You laid there, staring at the ceiling. Would it be worth it to take a shower before food? A groan left your lips. Wolf had cleaned and dressed the wound before putting you onto the bed. The grime and sweat from before still stuck to you. It made you feel sticky and gross.

That helped settle the internally debate.

With a heave, you’re able to sit back up and scoot off of the bed. You stand on shaky legs and wobbled your way into the ensuite bathroom. Due to the placement of the injury, Wolf had discarded of any clothing on your torso, apparently. All you had to do was shed your pants and turn the water on.

Hot water poured from the shower head and over you aching body. A deep groan fell from your lips. You relaxed against the show wall, letting the water wash away the evidence. It soothed over your tired and sore muscles, taking away the bits that hurt the most. This with some food then either snuggle with Wolf or taking another nap. All that sleep made you tired. A well deserved nap. With Wolf, of course. He deserves to sleep as well.

Soon enough, the shower came to an end. As you go to step out, a dark, scale hand held out a fresh, clean towel for you. Instinctively, you jolted at the appearance of a hand before realizing it was just your mate. You sent a half-hearted flare at the silent alien then took the offered towel from him. “I’m guessing the food is ready?” you asked and dried yourself off. The towel was set off to the side. Wolf gives you a pair of boxers and shorts. Which you slipped on with a thankful smile.

From there, Wolf take you to the small kitchen the ship had to offer. Two plates were set up on the counter. The portions matching each size of person.

He scoops up each plate and bring them to a two person table. You take your seat across from him. The lunch style food wafts up into your nose. You groan like you’re in heaven then started to snack on it. Wolf follows suit.

Lunch finishes up after about thirty minutes. After the first bite, that’s when you realize how hungry you are. You eat every last bite until the plate was empty and your belly was stuffed. Your mate had to carry you back to bed and laid you down on the comfortable sheets. You snuggle underneath the blankets and wait for him to join.

The large, lean male slips in after you and pulls you on to of him. You nuzzle into his neck, taking in his delicious scent. His arms tightened around you, careful of the wound on your side.

“Thank you,” you told him. “For everything.” Wolf was far too good for you. But you would never give him up. No matter what. Till death do us part.

A purr started in the back of his throat, soothing any worry in you. You completely relaxed on top of him. Your eyes finally closing as sleep takes a told of you.

Unable to return back or anywhere on earth, the two of you take refuge among the stars. Your new home.

[itsnesss]

Hi English is not my first language so sorry if the order is confusing. You could do something like Reader and Axel are dating and she is in the same dojo as him and also participating in the tournament. And she sees that scene of sensei Wolf beating Axel while he trains and as soon as he is alone she goes to him and comforts him, and also helps him with his injuries... and something obscene after all the comfort 🤭🤭🤭

That's it, I even love your writing! 🤍🤍

𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝𝐬 | axel kovacevik × fem!reader

summary | you comfort Axel after witnessing his harsh training, leading to a moment of vulnerability and passionate intimacy

warnings | smut, explicit content, masturbation, fingering, mention of violence, injury care, and emotional vulnerability

word count | 2.1 k

author's note | it would help me a lot if you liked, commented and reposted so that more people read what I write and don't forget to follow me thanks ᡣ𐭩

You stop in the hallway near the Sekai Taikai dressing rooms, the bustle of the tournament barely reaching your ears from afar. You are about to go look for Axel, but the scene unfolding before you freezes your body in place.

From where you stand, you can see Axel in the center of the training area. His face reflects discomfort, a mix of concentration and pain. Around him, Sensei Wolf watches him with a gaze that, although calculated, never ceases to be intense. Suddenly, the sensei delivers a sharp blow to his abdomen, and Axel doubles over, breathing heavily. The sound of the blow resonates in your ears like a cruel echo, and something in your chest tightens. You can't help but see how Axel's body reacts to the blow, his shoulders hunched as he struggles to stay upright.

"Get up, Kovacevic." "This is just the beginning," growls the sensei, a low voice that makes you shudder. The sound of Wolf's footsteps echoing as he walks away from Axel makes you take a deep breath. You feel the fury growing inside you. No one should be treated that way.

When the room finally empties, the gym falls silent. You know that now is your opportunity. Without thinking, you walk towards the training area, ignoring the sweat on your neck, the anxiety growing with each step. It doesn't matter that the tournament is in full swing. It doesn't matter that you need to prepare for your next fight. Axel needs your support, and that's the only thing that matters right now.

As you approach, you find him still standing, trembling slightly, with his hands on his knees, gasping for air. The sweat covers his face, and his lips are slightly cracked from the tension. You watch him for a moment, your heart racing at the sight of his condition, before speaking softly, breaking the tense silence between you.

"Axel" you say in a whisper. He looks up, surprised to see you. His eyes, although filled with pain, still shine with a hint of affection when he sees you. Something inside you relaxes, although the pain of seeing what he has suffered remains sharp.

You approach him cautiously, gently touching his shoulder. The fragility in his posture breaks your heart. You can't let him stay like this, broken by the harshness of his training. "Come on, let me help you," you say, and he nods, although his lips seem to hesitate.

You guide him to the dressing room, where privacy allows them to be without the constant gaze of others. He closes his eyes as you begin to clean the wounds on his sides and arms, your hands trembling slightly as you touch his skin marked by the blows. Every time your fingers brush against his skin, you feel a heat growing inside you, a heat you don't know how to control. The tenderness of your gestures only increases the tension between the two of you.

The silence between you two is heavy, but it's the kind of silence that only happens when deep emotions intertwine. When you finish, you pause for a second, your eyes searching his, your breath uneven. There's something else in the air, something neither you nor he can ignore.

Suddenly, you can't wait any longer. You approach him without thinking, kissing him with desperation, as if that were the only way to release everything you've been holding back. The kiss is urgent, almost uncontrolled, and you feel how Axel responds, letting anxiety and desire mix between you. His hands slide down your back, pulling you towards him. The touch of his body envelops your mind, erasing any thought that isn't him, his closeness, his warmth.

"I've been waiting for you... too long," he whispers between kisses, his voice rough and filled with palpable need.

"I don't want you to suffer anymore," you reply, continuing to caress his face, as you feel him surrendering at the same time as you. Each touch, each sigh, brings them a painful but necessary comfort.

The pain and passion intertwine in a passionate kiss. Each moment is more intense than the last, as if they only needed this instant to release everything they had held back.

Your breathing becomes irregular when you feel Axel's anxiety growing. His hand slides under your waist, brushing your skin with his fingers, and you feel yourself melting, the heat inside you growing, spreading throughout your body. "Axel..." You whimper when his fingers begin to brush the button of your pants, each touch a heartbeat more in your veins.

"Yes..." he whispers, kissing the lobe of your ear. "I need you," he says, his lips tracing your throat. Your breathing becomes increasingly irregular, and you know you won't be able to wait much longer.

"I'm sorry..." You gasp. The tension in your bodies is palpable. Both know there is no turning back. All that exists in this moment is the desire, the need, and the need to free oneself from anxiety, from pain.

As soon as you finish speaking, you feel Axel's hand inside your pants, his fingers wrapping around your member, which throbs with anxiety. Your breathing is irregular, but you can't stop, you can't avoid the heat spreading through your body. Axel's mouth surrounds one of your nipples, his tongue gently caressing the sensitive skin, and a strong sigh escapes your throat as you feel his hand moving up and down at a rapid pace. The pressure of his fingers is intense, and you can't help but press your hips down.

"Axel..." you scream his name when the orgasm comes to you like a mantle of heat. You can barely control your movements, your body shakes as pleasure explodes within you, and you feel the pleasure cover every corner of your veins. Axel's hand keeps moving, prolonging the orgasm, until you can't take it anymore and collapse onto him.

Both of you remain like that for a moment, panting, savoring the sensation of the other body on yours. Axel gently caresses your neck while you catch your breath, and you kiss him softly, knowing that this moment is something more than just a sexual encounter. It's something more. It's the release of everything that has been held back, everything that is about to explode. It's the heat of their bodies, the pleasure of touching each other. It's Axel. Just Axel.

A moment later, you step back a bit to look at Axel, his eyes shining with a mix of pleasure and affection. Your hand gently brushes his face, caressing his cheeks.

"Are you okay?" you ask, with a hoarse voice, but full of affection.

"Yes," he says. His lips curve into a slight smile, and you kiss his forehead again before looking at him intently. "Do you want to do it?" he says, without breaking eye contact. The question is inevitable at this moment. You have felt it. You need it.

The truth is that you can't deny it any longer. What you have with Axel is something you can't fake, something that can only come from a true connection. The pleasure, the connection, everything blends in an intense moment between the two of you. You know you can't deny this opportunity.

You nod slightly, and the sparkle in Axel's eyes becomes more intense. His fingers caress your skin once more before moving up to your neck and kissing you gently.

"You must be sure. We can't stop in the middle of the road" he whispers as he kisses you, his hands wrapping around your hips. His member throbs against your thighs, and you can feel the tension in his body, the need to relieve the anxiety. You know Axel is right, but you can't stop now.

"I want to do it," you whisper before kissing his lips.

Both know what to expect from this encounter. It's an opportunity to let go, to seek release in this intense moment. And it is inevitable that the orgasm will come soon for Axel, his muscles tense with anxiety.

"It's okay" he says, in a low and raspy voice. His lips caress your cheeks before moving down to your chest. "Don't stop" he whispers in a mix of need and desire."

"No... I will" you say as you begin to slide your hand down. Each second is more intense, the pleasure and heat spreading through their bodies. Your hand wraps around his member, and you feel his hard erection in your hand, the muscles of his thighs tense with every movement. The need in his eyes is palpable, and you can't wait any longer to relieve his anxiety.

Your hand moves up and down to the rhythm of his gasps, you feel his breath quicken, and suddenly you can't wait any longer to kiss him. His mouth takes over yours, his tongue tracing your lips as your hand moves faster, the heat between your bodies growing. Axel's breathing quickens with each passing moment, and you feel that he is close to reaching his peak.

"God..." he says with a breathless voice, his body trembling with each touch. "I'm... close" he pants.

"Do you want me to continue?" you ask.

"Yes... please" he whispers. The need is palpable in his eyes, and you feel a wave of heat wash over you as you hear his words.

"Then don't stop," Axel whispers, as his hand rests on your arm. "Please, don't stop" he gasps as his breathing becomes increasingly irregular."

Your hand moves a little faster, feeling how his member throbs between your fingers. His gasps grow in intensity, and you know he is very close. Suddenly, you feel a spasm in her muscles, and her body shakes, a stifled scream escaping her lips. The sensation of the orgasm is more intense than you could imagine, a moment of pure release for both of you. You feel the tension in his muscles as he reaches orgasm, and you can't help but kiss his lips once more, savoring the pleasure of the moment. His fingers cling to your arms as he collapses onto you, exhausted but satisfied.

You both stay like that for a moment, savoring the pleasure that has just occurred. You can feel how his body gradually relaxes, and how his breathing returns to normal.

"Thank you," Axel says a moment later, his lips kissing your cheek. "Thank you for helping me. You are incredible" he says softly.

You smile, your hand caressing his chest, savoring his closeness. "There's nothing I wouldn't do for you, Axel" you say, your voice rough but full of truth.

And in this moment, you know it's true. There is nothing you wouldn't do for Axel, even if it's just being here, in this moment of release.

[gothicfied]

more for 124 :(((((((

Hand in Hand - Nam-gyu / Player 124

Pairing: Nam-gyu / Player 124 x Reader

Summary: The fight in the men's bathroom and the rising tension between players gave you much to worry about, but Nam-gyu gave you to comfort you needed

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, blood, killing (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word count: 721 words

A/N: Tihihihi, I love this man fr. I hope this isn't too cringe🧍‍♀️

You couldn't sleep, actually, no one was able to sleep. Sitting on the bed under you was Nam-gyu, who didn't want to talk to you - talk to anybody - after the fight was broken up. You immediately understood what was up when he yelled out that the men who voted 'X' had attacked them, killing some of the players. Thanos didn't return. Yeah, it was pretty obvious why he seemed so pissed off, so shell-shocked. Quietly, you sat up, carefully leaning down to see what he was doing. Nam-gyu was biting his fingernails, eyeing Thanos' cross necklace that he was holding in his slightly shaky hands. Seeing you leaning down from the corner of his eye, he frowned.

"What?"

"I can't sleep."

"Why?"

"I'm scared.."

Nam-gyu's face immediately softened upon hearing your words. He swallowed hard and hastily tucked the necklace into his pocket, gesturing for you to come down and sit next to him. As gently as possible to not catch anyone elses attention, you dropped down from your bed and leaned against the headboard of Nam-gyu's bed, your shoulder pressed against his. "Are you sad?" you asked quietly, just looking down at your lap as you spoke. You heard his breath hitching for a moment, but he still asked you what you meant by that. "Sad about- well you know." Silence.

Nam-gyu wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. He has witnessed so many deaths in this place by now and none of them have affected him in the slightest. He didn't know them well, so why should he care about a random player? "Because, I'm not sure if I should be." your voice interrupted his thoughts. Slowly, he turned his head your way, taking in your side profile in the dim light. "Nah," Nam-gyu chuckled, "he was an asshole. Had it coming, in my opinion." Despite his words, he sounded bitter. It's not like he didn't mean them, because that's exactly how Thanos was, but they still had some kind of.. friendship.

You met his gaze, your eyes wandering over his face covered in splatters of blood. That was worrying by itself, but you didn't have any interest in asking about what role he played in that fight. "And why are you scared?" You looked at him like he asked you the most stupid question in the world.

"Come on, you know everyone will try to kill each other now."

"And you know that I won't let anything happen to you."

Ever since he defended you from a group of men, who were making more than weird comments about you, immediately on the first day you woke up in this hellhole, you've just stuck with him. On multiple occasions now, Nam-gyu has proven that he actually won't let anything or anyone harm you. Why? He doesn't know it, either. He just likes you and you didn't take that for granted. Nam-gyu made you feel safe, you trusted him, even if that's hard to believe. Usually, he'd be compliant with what Thanos would say or tell him to do, just not when he was giving you a hard time — That's partially why he just couldn't feel sorry for that man.

Slowly, Nam-gyu wrapped his arm around your neck, making you lean your head against his. The silence between you two was never awkward and more comforting than anything. You were able to hear faint whispers of other players, feet tapping the ground and the occasional cough from that old guy, Player 100. Nam-gyu's hair tickled the side of your face as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Whatever happens tonight, I promise I'll keep you safe."

[straightforthefl00r]

lovesick

january hasn’t even hit double digits yet, i’m all valentines ready 😭😭

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹. Keigo wouldn’t be surprised if he just collapsed because of a heart attack with how fast his heart was pounding. He needed to stop being so nervous, or else he was going to start to sweat. If he started to sweat, then he was going to smell, and then — argh!

It was Valentine’s day, D-day, the day of yours and Keigo’s first date.

Normally, Keigo would breeze through a date easily. No problems. He’d smile cheekily, flirt in that way he always does and wouldn’t even think twice about casual touches, hand holding or kisses. 

 But with you, god, it was so different.

You two were already friends before he asked you out. You guys bonded over the little things: early lectures, stupid films and the bastard that was Touya Todoroki. However, long before he even entertained the idea of liking you romantically, his breath always hitched when you came into the room. As cheesy as it sounded, you were dazzling to him, funny and sweet. He was smitten. 

He thought that the hard part was finally over when he successfully asked you out. A movie night in your dorm, with a classic face-to-face, heartfelt confession (which ended with red cheeks and redder lips). He remembered that while you moved to press a firm kiss to his lips, you held his face gently. No one ever did that before. No one ever held him with such softness, with such affection like you did. 

Keigo, you muttered quietly with a smile into his ear, finally.

He reached for his jacket. God, he needed to get his act together. His hands fiddled with the zipper before dragging it up to his collarbones. The weather was getting warmer, warm enough to forego the outerwear. But, for some inexplicable reason if it got colder, he figured that he could offer you his jacket. Be the perfect gentlemanly boyfriend you deserve. He didn’t need the jacket anyway, he ran hotter than most. 

Keigo looked into the mirror, eyes scrutinising his reflection. He looked like he was going to take a hike up Mount Everest. For a more relaxed look, and to kid himself into looking like some state of calm, he unzipped his jacket. His hawk-like eyes zoned in on a small stain on his shirt. Fuck. Why on god’s green earth did he not see that before?? With furrowed brows, he glanced at the clock, then zipped his jacket halfway to cover the dirt and bolted out the door with a picnic basket in hand. 

Thankfully not out of breath, he arrived at the park. It was late afternoon and surprisingly empty. At this point in the day, Keigo was just glad that you were running slightly late too. He had received a text from you just as he reached the meeting place, saying something had come up and that you’ll be there in less than twenty minutes. 

Perfect! Just enough time to set up the picnic. The plan was to stay long enough to watch the sun sink into the sky and then, well, Keigo was willing to improvise. The sky was cloudy, he might have to concoct a plan sooner than he thought. 

“Keigo,” you gaped, “what the actual hell? This is beautiful!” 

His head snapped up to meet your eyes. They were clear and sparkling, and slightly squinted due to the huge beam on your face. Keigo thought that he would never see a cuter sight.

You set your bag down, laughing as you joined him on the picnic blanket. The sound, a delight to his ears. 

“What’s up sweets?” He huffed, laughing with you, “Miss me?”

Bending forward, you poked his cheek, “Always. Did you know you looked like a meerkat just then?” You quickly added.

He feigned offence, “You wound me! I’m excited to see you and this is what I get?”

“But you love me right?”

“I still didn’t look like a desert rat.”

You leaned back, to imitate the way he looked at you.

“Now, tell me that didn’t look like a meerkat.” 

“I’d prefer it if you said I looked like anything else — a hawk perhaps?”

“Meerkats are cute, I’m calling you cute!”

“Mmh…” He reached out his finger to poke your cheek just as you did, “Nope. Not at all. You must be seeing things.”

You rolled your eyes with a light smile, before looking at Keigo’s picnic set up again. 

“You did all of this for me?”

There was a fragrant bouquet of yours and Keigo’s favourite flowers sitting in the woven picnic basket, full bloom. You told him that you loved pretty things, what was prettier than flowers? Though, he was very close to printing out a bunch of candid photographs of you both to decorate the picnic — he refrained by a fraction. 

A platter of your favourite fruits were placed beside the flowers, meticulously arranged. Keigo was particularly proud of them; he cut the strawberries into heart shapes. However, the star of the show (apart from you, of course) was the cake he baked. It was a small thing, not the best looking. He was never any good with cooking, let alone baking, but he tried. It was slightly squashed on the side from being in the basket, even so, it should taste good. 

“Anything for you really,” he replied, your name sweet on his lips, “want to take a bite?”

꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.°.‧ ꩜‧.°.𖦹 .°.‧꩜ ‧.°. 𖦹.

part two? yay or nay?

[marinettesaltprompts]

Miraculous x DC Saltfic Prompt part 2 (:

Prompt by @kawaiichibiart

A quick just so you know, I did look up the legality of removing a child from their parents care in France, not sure if I covered it correctly, but yeah (:

As a reminder, this takes place at the exact same time as my last MLBxDC prompt.

Let's get into it!! >:D

To give some context for anyone reading this first: the Akuma class wins a trip to Gotham instead of New York. What the class isn't aware of is that Adrien is moving to Gotham in order to live with his new mother, Selina Kyle.

Back to the story, as I said, this takes place at the same time as the other MLBxDC prompt.

And it starts with Amelie meeting with an old friend, Selina Kyle.

Now, both these women have their strenghts. They know what they want and how to get it. Most wouldn't think of them as friends, but they are, it's true. And because they're friends, they will sometimes ask each other for favors, big or small.

When Selina visited, Amelie asked for her help regarding Adrien. She couldn't tell why, but she just had a feeling Gabriel was up to something. When her husband passed, Gabriel didn't let Adrien attend the funeral. When she and Felix visited, the Agreste Mansion felt cold.

Cold in a way that denied a child the care he needed. Cold in the sense that, despite the beautiful weather outside, being inside felt like the dead of winter.

And she didn't like it.

She didn't like how it felt. What her mind drew up. The image of her sister's child, alone, in a large, cold, building. The boy who had her son's reflection, starved for affection.

She needed to find a way to get him out. To get something on Gabriel. There had to be something. But he keeps pushing her away. Try as she might, she can only do so much.

This is where Selina comes in. As a favor, she agrees to help Amelie, starting, not with Gabriel, but with his employees.

Employees who knew Adrien more than Gabriel did.

Employees who also wanted Adrien out of Gabriel's grasp.

Employees who paid attention to things. To the days Adrien was pulled out of school, to the way he dreaded having to model with Lila Rossi from the start, to the way he just looked so, so tired.

It's easy to convince some of them to spill things. To say what they saw.

Were they worried about their jobs? Well, sure, but some of them were planning on leaving themselves, either to work for someone else or to work by themselves. So, why not admit things to this woman?? She's here to help Adrien.

After that, she decides to see if the local heroes will say anything, meaning Cat Woman was about to make an appearance.

---------

Now, remember when I said Selina and Amelie know how to get what they want? Well, apparently being an utter annoyance works. Because Gabriel, begrudgingly and relunctantly, let Adrien stay with Amelie for a while (a while being like, 1-2 weeks). While she'd rather it be longer, she accepted the time she got. And rather than have Adrien come to her, she went to Adrien. She still needs answers, and she hopes Adrien will give them to her.

Amelie and Adrien end up staying at Le Grand Paris, where Amelie will later end up introducing Adrien to Selina, and it's where she admits the real reason to her visit.

Legally, as his other guardian, she can petition the court to have Adrien removed from Gabriel's care. But she can't do that without evidence. As much as she'd love to just take Adrien away, this was as close as she could get. And in order to do this, in order to give Adrien the proper home and care he deserves, she needs him to be honest with her. To tell her the truth. To give her the word that she was right to do this, that her intuition was correct.

And it takes a while, but eventually Adrien opens up as well. Admitting his own fears and the trapped feeling he had. The way that sometimes, sometimes it felt like he couldn't disobey. Literally couldn't. Like his mind and body would freeze before he did as he was told, even if he didn't want to. He told her about Gabriel's inspiration book, being pulled out of school for simply losing it. He told her about way Lila Rossi barged into his room, into his life, and how it was hard to breathe at times whenever she was around. He tells her about a "friend" who wouldn't listen to him, who's grown distant, and he can't help but feel like he did something wrong. He's backed off, respected what they wanted, apologizes if he flirts a bit too much or does something that might make them uncomfortable, but why is he the one doing all the work? Just to be met by the same response just about every single time??

He just wants to be a normal boy. Or, well, as normal as he can be. But everywhere he went, if his face wasn't plastered next to him on a bigger scale, then someone would recognize him and point him out, leading to more people coming over. And more people meant more photos and autographs, and less time for what he wanted.

He's tired.

He just wants it to stop, but it won't, and just about everyone he's met thinks his life is so... perfect. That he actually enjoys it. That the attention, and fame, and not going to school or being pulled out for a shoot was all amazing, but it isn't!!!

It's not amazing, it's not fun, it's not...what it used to be.

It was fun. It was amazing. He did enjoy it. But...

It doesn't matter. Not anymore.

And while Adrien has his doubts about the petition, Amelie sees this as a reason to double down. To not only continue but to win. Time limit be damned.

She had about 2 weeks at best, 1 at worst, but she'll manage.

---------

With Adrien in their corner, it was time for Selina to talk to the local heroes.

Or, hero, rather.

And wow, does she wish her fellow feline had been the one to show up.

Ladybug...

Ladybug was a bag of mixed messages.

Cat Woman didn't know where she stood.

She admits Gabriel is a bad father, but Adrien shouldn't go into his aunt's custody because he has a life in Paris??

She admits Adrien would be better off in someone else's care, but not the Graham de Vanily's because they'd be just as bad as Gabriel??

It's like she just wants him to stay. She gets defensive over her reasonings, her face going red when she does.

It feels so obvious to Cat Woman that Ladybug has a crush on Adrien, so her wanting him to stay seems more likely to do with her own wants and desires, rather than Adrien's.

Seeing this as getting them nowhere, the Gothamite leaves. Hopefully she'll run into Chat Noir later.

---------

As the days go by and more and more evidence is collected, the two women decide it's to hit Gabriel (metaphorically, although literally is also okay, maybe later tho). They gather everything they can, hire the best lawyers money can buy, and take Gabriel to court.

Now, he has a decision here.

Either he agrees with their terms once they win, quiet Gabriel, they're going to win, and everything will remain relatively hush hush. Out of the publics eye for as long as they can keep it.

Or!!

He fights them on this and they make everything public from the getgo. News reporters numbers are ready to be dialed, to both publish the stories they've been hired to write concerning what his own employees, including Adrien, had to say, and to come to the trial to cover it live.

Amelie is here to win.

She has a lot of people in her corner. People who are against Gabriel Agreste. People who aren't blind to a man's neglect.

She knows that as much as he'd rather keep this private, Adrien will let this go public. If it gets him out of that mansion, away from Gabriel and out of his job, he will let it go public.

And while a small part of her wished Gabriel decided to go public with it, a larger part of her felt relieved they were going private.

If for no other reason than Adrien's sake.

---------

It wasn't easy. Far from it.

Gabriel fought against every bit of evidence. Every testimonial. Claiming his employees who spoke against him were just bitter and resentful. That they simply didn't like him.

Day after day went by.

Every day felt repetitive but worth it in the end.

It was worth the sleepless nights where she had to reassure Adrien that this would work out. That even if it didn't this time, it won't stop her from trying again.

It was worth facing the man her sister "loved" and watch as his defenses crumbled. As his excuses became just that, excuses. How it became clear that he was negligent, absent, and unfit to be a father. How he was emotionally manipulative, holding things his son held dear above him, ready to punish him by taking them away, threatening him by taking away the small amount of normalcy he had and limiting the little contact he had with his friends. How little he cared, pushing and pushing his son into this mold of perfection that wasn't achievable.

It was worth the look on Gabriel's face when he lost. When the jury and the judge ruled in her favor. The look of resent and badly hidden hatred. One that said he hadn't lost the war, just this battle.

But whatever, he didn't matter.

Not anymore.

Amelie had a new son to take home.

---------

Introducing Selina and Adrien to each other went better than expected.

Amelie was glad her friend was able to talk with Adrien without either of them needing her to be there. And she was glad Adrien seemed willing to actually talk considering what had just happened. He'd spent most of the past few days talking with Felix over the phone and thinking about how to tell his friends about things without risking things. He still wanted some privacy and talking about going into his aunt's custody wasn't exactly something he wanted just anyone to know yet. Eventually, sure. But not right now.

Selina was so good to Adrien. Answering his questions and telling him about Gotham.

It was nice to see the two get along. She never knew Adrien's more mischievous side hadn't truly died out. There was this bond between the two that started soon after she introduced the two. Looks that were shared, Selina somehow knowing when Adrien needed a break.

It almost felt like...seeing Emilie and Adrien again.

Maybe...maybe Selina would be willing to do one last thing for her before she leaves. Something Adrien would have to be around for because it was just as much his decision as it was hers. It might not be something they immediately agree to, but she's sure that at the very least they'll consider it.

She loves Adrien and wants him to have a good life.

And maybe, maybe that means staying with the woman he's grown close to so quickly.

But that can wait for a bit. For now, she has a train to catch and a son waiting for her and his cousin turned brother at home.

---------

And that's a wrap for this prompt.

Some bonus info I wanted to add but couldn't (it just didn't really flow in the prompt as well, but can be added to the full story):

• I wanted to have more go on in terms of Selina gathering evidence, like actually having some dialogue bits where she's talking with someone. Bonus if that person was either the Gorilla or Natilie, who both definitely went against Gabriel.

• Adrien and Selina's bond is referring to them meeting for the second time as Chat Noir and Cat Woman. It's easy for Adrien to open up to her and decide to reveal who he is when she tells him she helped with the case. It was a spur of the moment decision, but he doesn't care. And since he revealed himself, Selina saw no reason to keep her own identity a secret.

• While they were short on time for the case, Adrien does end up in Amelie's care for almost a month (2 weeks in Paris and almost 2 weeks in London). She's technically still his guardian, Selina being his mom is something they finalize roughly by the time his class trip to Gotham is announced.

• Not gonna lie, if you can fit in Amelie and/or Selina hitting Gabriel somewhere, be my guest.

• Ladybug definitely wanted Adrien to stay purely because she has a crush on him. While she does admit to Gabriel's faults, she also wants Adrien to stay in Paris. This ultimately makes her kinda untrustworthy in Cat Woman's eyes.

• Some of the evidence held against Gabriel was absolutely blackmail. While nothing about him having a miraculous is revealed, the fact he was spying on his son was.

• The battle being won but not the war is referring to Gabriel being certain that Adrien will be back in his care once he makes his wish. It's why he agreed to being taken to court. Yes, he's upset he lost, but ultimately he's sure Amelie's small victory won't matter because his wish will change things in his favor.

• Some of the money used to hire lawyers was from Bruce Wayne, who had vague knowledge of what was going on since Selina told him. He trusted that she was doing the right thing but still kept an eye and ear open. He wasn't going to be mad that Selina tricked him if she did, just annoyed because it would the second time this week this happened and he had no desire for the "I told you so" he'd get from his kids and Alfred.

• This has nothing to do with this prompt but my last one: Adrien keeps his miraculous, as decided by two (2) people. I am, however, open to him changing his costume and name later on. I, personally, tend to go with Matagot, but I want to keep this open.

[larapeachsstuff]

Sorry folks, I just can't get Arcane out of my head.

"Quiet moments" - Arcane Scenarios

Arcane characters x f!reader - Fluff

Summary: Scenarios where the different characters of Arcane show affection during quiet moments.

Pairing: f!reader x Viktor, Jayce, Ekko, Sevika, Silco, Caitlyn, Vi.

Warnings: mention of killing, violence, brutal everyday stuff in Zaun.

VIKTOR

Relax isn't something Viktor is accostumed to and most of the time he passes his time in the laboratory, mentally crafting new hextech tools. Moments of peace and quiet are rare.

Being his assistant, you two stay together most of the time, but it is not so easy to find a moment to kiss or relax, when your boyfriend is constantly thinking and babbling about new projects.

One day, growing tired by the end of the evening, you sit on a chair in the laboratory, relaxing your tired legs and exhausted mind. Seeing you in such a state, Viktor stops speaking to himself and grabs his stick to approach you.

"Tired, my love?" "Exhausted, really" you respond with a low tone. "Progress dosn't wait for anyone" says the man as he gently strocks your hair with one hand.

"Need a pause, love?" Viktor asks with a smile on his face - "You can go to bed if you want, I'll probably be up all night again with this project".

Feeling a bit trascurated, you get up and heads out of the room to your shared bedroom, after giving him a quick kiss on the lips and a not-so-invisible upset expression on your face.

You impose to yourself to bathe and, after a quick shower, you head to bed, alone again, covering yourself with the covers, still smelling like his parfume.

After just a couple of moments, the door opens with a creak and Viktor enters the room, heading to the bed and sitting near your lying figure. After a kiss on your head, he takes off his clothes and, putting on his pygiama (yes, the man actually has a lot of them), gets in the bed with you.

With a sarcastic tone you say "Didn't you need to work all night again, Viktor?" - to which he replies "Mhhh, I prefer your company and warm over the project for tonight. Plus, I need to take care of a more important thing right now". The man spoons you from behind and hugs you with his arms, leaving a trail of kisses all over your head, before going to sleep.

JAYCE

The man is like a working machine but knows when to stop, differntly from his lab partner, Viktor. Jayce is always happy to have relaxing moments with you and, being a senator, taking advantage of the pros of his position is not something he refuses.

That particolar day, however, you saw your boyfriend like you hadn't seen him in a long time. After passing most of the day running for commisions, when you returned home, it was empty. No sight of Jayce, no left trace of his passage. With a tired sigh, you left your groceries on the counter and headed back out to the palace, to try and find your "lost" man.

After some time of futile searching, you find yourself in the big library, hoping Jayce would be there for a late study session. Instead, you find Mel, reading a book with so much focus that she doesn't hear your approaching steps.

"Sorry, Mel, have you seen Jayce? I've been searching for him for some time now and I don't know where to look for anymore" "Oh, hi y/n! - she replies - I think your man has gone crazy with work over the last hextech project. If I were you, I would search in the furnace, maybe he is releasing a bit of tension".

The furnace! How could you have forgotten about that place. Giving a thank you to Mel and leaving the library, you go directly to the place. The room was like a lair for Jayce, where he could let all of his frustation go and create new machines at the same time. When you arrive at the entrance of the furnace, you were welcomed by a wave of heat and strong fire light from the oven. Jayce was standing in front of it, withour his shirt and with his mind focused on the hammer in his hands, while working on what seemed to be e shield.

"Hi love, tired already?" you say with a timid voice - "Oh, Janna, sorry sweety, I think I completely lost sense of time, damn". Letting the hammer down, the man goes straight to you and hugs you, embracing all of you into his strong arms. The scent of his body is supressed by the smell of wood and metal, but it is still enough for you to take a hint of it, making you relax against his chest.

"I have missed you, silly" you say "when are you gonna come home?" "This exact moment, sweety, I have neglected you enough for today, I am so sorry" says Jayce with a guilt tone - "I want to cuddle with you for the entire night. Now, let's go home".

Jayce leaves on your lips a tired but loving kiss, before setting his arm around your waist and heading out of the furnace.

EKKO

Ekko is normally busy with the administration of the Firelights and their missions, but he always finds a moment during the day to remind you how much he loves you.

Returning from a successful mission against some on Silco's man, you and your crew are flying from the damaged and corrupted areas of Zaun to your life-saviour tree. The massive giant and the green all around you is always a comforting view after a failed mission. This time, however, you were able to destroy the cargo-ship of Silco and the barrels of shimmer lightened up pretty well. Every success is a small step towards the liberation of Zaun from the dispotic power of Silco, but everytime someone dies, and from both parts there are just Zaunites. Your own people, in the end. It would have been preferable to fight against the tight-asses of Piltover, instead.

After the arrival on the tree, it was not difficult to find your boyfriend, already surronded by a group of children who were laughing at his silly imitations of animals. A smile forms on your face and a warm sensation tightens around your heart, seeing him laughing like that and having fun. After all things the two of you have experienced together, you know that these occasions were rare and for Ekko they were the results of his efforts.

Calling him, whistling a particular note (your code signal), he tilts his head up to see your face and, after having said goodbye to the children, he grabs his flying skateboard and runs to you with a big smile on his face.

"Hi princess! Good to see you! How are you? How was the mission? How are the others?" storming you with questions, the boy grabs your shoulder with his hands. "Woah, calm down pretty boy. It's good to see you too" you utter with a groan caused by your sore shoulders and back after the mission - "Everything turned out good and the tips given by the bartender were right. I don't know how much more that man can remain alive, stealing documents from Silco".

"I'll see what we can do to protect him. We need those information at any cost. In the meantime, come here with me, Princess. Let's have a bit of us moment". Guiding you to the body of the immense tree, he sits and leans, letting you sit in between his legs, hugging you from behind.

"I want you to know how much I appreciate your contribution to the cause and how much I love you, everyday a little more than the day before. I don't think I would have accomplished so much without you, thank you". Looking into his eyes, a loving light irradiates and warms your heart. "No silly, you, me and all the others have accomplished this thanks to your leadership, your courage and your strengh. We all should be devoted to you".

"You are right" Ekko says with a hint of playful superiority in his voice - "You should all pray me as a God, you especially my little subordinate". "Ah ah ah, go to hell Ekko" you reply with a sarcastic tone.

The guy laughs, a warming smile on his face. Planting kisses on your shoulders, Ekko tightens his arms around you and says: "I have never tamed my feral little Princess and I never will". Before returning to his duties, Ekko takes his time to listen to you about the mission and how everything went, never stopping his hand from drawing gentle circles on your thigh.

SEVIKA

Working for Silco has never been an easy job and you know that. Everytime Sevika returned home from a mission, she was just a little more tired, a little more sore and her mechanical arm needed constant mantainment. It is fun for you, though, to project new weapons and ways to make her arm even more efficient, allowing your girlfriend to not be so worry in every battle. It is your mission to provide for the multitasking mechanical arm and its new weapons.

After a long morning of drawing new harmful guns and technological knives, it is your so-waited moment to have lunch. Getting out from one of houses near the Last Drop, you head to a near restaurant (if someone could call it that). That day you were hoping for a sweet and romantic lunch with Sevika, but she was out of sight and probably still on a mission. You remember the sensation of her body getting out of bed in the morning at what you think was the sunrise and the sound of her heavy footsteps leaving your room.

Sevika is not so used to show affection, especially in public, but she has never left in the morning without placing a gentle kiss on your cheek, saying "later" in a low and loving tone.

Ordering something from the menu, on which the dishes were always the same and pretty boring, you starts to fantasize about the restaurants in Piltover, rich with delights and different foods. The sigh that escapes from your lips is frustated, why does it have to be so difficult for the Zaunites, while the rich-asses of Piltover waste money over stupid things and complain about futile problems?

Lost in your thoughts, you don't notice the figure that has just opened the door of the local, looking lefts and rights in search for you. After she spots you, Sevika goes straight to you and, without saying a word, plops herself on the other side of the table. Already a bit irritated by your own trail of thoughts and not being in the mood for games, withour taking the eyes off the menu, you say "Please man, I don't want any problem and the seat is already taken. I wouldn't want my scary bodyguard to come look after you, it wouldn't finish in a good way" "Is that how you see me? As your scary bodyguard?"

You tilt you head up to meet the eyes of Sevika, a smirk on her face and a cigarette already at the corner of her mouth. "Oh Janna, I'm sorry love ahahah, I thought you were just one silly man. How are you? How was the mission? Do you like the new weapon I installed you? That knife is pretty sharp, uh?" you say with enthusiasm. Sevika smiles at you and, leaning on the cracking chair, responds: "It is not bad at all, I killed a bunch of people with it this morning. Everything went good" .

"I am so glad to hear that, want to eat something?" "I said to Silco I would have taken the afternoon off just for you, my little doll". Sevika isn't used to nicknames in public, so she whispered the last part of the phrase, but it was enough for you to put a smile on your face and feeling a blush forming on your cheeks.

"Thanks love, I appreciate it so so so much". Sevika gets up and positions her seat right next to yours, and, putting her human arm around you, calls the waiter to take the order.

"I promise you, one day we'll have lunch in the most luxurious restaurant of the entire city, doll. I'll do anything to provide to you the best lab ever created for you to craft your weapons". The warm tone of her promise makes you lean into her embrace, before putting a small kiss on her cheek.

SILCO

The idea of relax and taking a pause are what can be the most far from Silco's mind. The man is used to stay up all night and to have problems 24h, so his head is always filled with thoughts about the next mission. There is, however, a specific moment of the day which is his favourite and most hated at the same time.

Hidden by piles of papers and documents, the lean figure of your man is out of sight and the only sound that is hearable is the scratch of the pen on paper.

Your relationship with Silco was complicated, it wasn't always so easy for him to speak about his emotions, his feelings and at first you felt just like an object, a piece of meat for his own entrateinment. Everything changed when Powder arrived and, seeing your affection towards the little girl, Silco saw you under a new light and love started to spread from his heart. A coarse love, not well defined and still in need of some touches, but in was indeed an enormous step for the man.

After the first period of time, in which Silco outdistanced himself even more, scared by the new feeling, the time of reconcilliation came when the man understood the new warmth around his heart. The thought of you was the only important thing in his mind, together with the safety of Powder.

"Hi Sil, here I come for your everyday delivery!" you say with a funny tone, underling the last words - "How are you doing, I haven't seen you the entire day and sleeping alone is always boring". The man doesn't lift his head from the papers, but signals to you with his hand to wait for just a moment. Letting a smile form on your face, you approach the man behind his desk, enlightened by the big greenish window.

"All done, darling. I am all yours now". Silco had made you very clear that your relationship had to be kept a secret, for the public you were just one of his subordinates, who, occasionally, was called to give him "relief". The reasons of such a decision were clear to you and it didn't bother you that much, in the end, the relief part was true.

"Love that! Ready for the needle?" A hated routine moment in Silco's life, but it was made more bearable by your presence. Looking into your eyes with his blue and orange ones, he opened a drawer of his desk to take the so hurtful needle. You were responsable to provide him with his daily dose of medical shimmer. Positioning yourself between his legs, Silco sets his hands on your waist and a piece of leather between his teeth not to bite his tongue.

"I'll be the most delicate possible, Sil, I promise" Looking at you, already knowing what was going to happen, Silco nods his head and rests it against the chair. Pointing the needle right in his eye and ready to inject the purple liquid, you take a final sight of the scar all over his left part of the face, that scar that you love so much, that bears a lot of painful memories.

"At three, ok? One, two, ..." and you press the injector right into his eye. The reaction of Silco is immediate, and he needs a high dose of control to not tilt his head and let the shimmer go to waste. Hearing his rapid deep breath and the strengh of his hands on your waist, you set the needle on the desk, before gently strocking the hair of your man, allowing his head to rest on your chest.

"Shh Sil, it is all done now, you can relax. I am here for you". After a few minutes, as always, Silco's breath returns to a normal rhythm and, letting the piece of leather out of his mouth, without looking at you, he says: "Thanks darling, I don't know what I would do without you. That shit hurts like hell, fuck. Give me a moment, will you?" A small but noticeable smile appears on his face and the man grabs his cigar, the only other vice that he has, except for you.

Letting you sit in his lap, Silco strocks your hair with the free hand. "Darling, how is it that everytime you come here, your face is more beautiful than it was before?" - with a soft blush on your face, you reply "Seeing me not so often doesn't help, Sil". Letting out a frustated sigh, Silco places a kiss on your lips, a soft yet loving one, giving to you all of his attention.

"Accept this apology for the moment, little one, I'll redeem myself later. Tonight I'm all yours, if you want my company. I haven't enjoyed a dinner with you in a long time an it is not acceptable. I'll have Sevika bring something here and we can have our little chat". Sevika knew about your relationship and helped in many ways, everything to keep Silco at least a bit more relaxed from time to time.

"I know that having dinner in the office is not optimal and is not your idea of a romantic date, but we must be patient and endure these hard times. I will give you anything you want and the future is just ours, darling". Silco gives you another kiss and, letting you stay on his lap, continues to do the paperwork.

CAITLYN

Caitlyn is a hard-working soldier, it has always been her dream to be part of the enforcer's group. She loves action, her desire is to help the city and defend it against the menaces of Zaun. At the same time, Cait is not someone that can't take a risk, and in the last period she has gone to the underground quiet a bit of times. You started to worry about her safety among the people of Zaun, but Cait has reassured you.

The two of you have met thanks to a job that was assigned to both of you. Even though you weren't a proper enforcer and your job was mostly done behind a desk, your abilities to coordinate and plan the missions were fundamental for good results. Occasionally, however, you accompanied the other enforcers to get a better sight of the places for your maps. After the first encounter, Cait used her mother's influence (just this time, I promise, she is a good gal) to have you has her mission's planner, at first just from time to time, but the two of you ended up as a team in no time. Cait and you shared a particular chemistry and fun was never left out.

You and Cait started to go out as collegues at first, dicussing the next mission and moves, but after some time, it was clear that something has changed and a new feeling has developed. Cait would have never first admitted it, but her actions spoke louder than her words and one day, tired of waiting, you took the initiative and kissed her. As a result, you basically started living at her place, strangely accepted also by her mother (I consider Cait's father as a sweet man, and another girl in a family of mostly women wasn't a problem for him).

That morning, waking up late and tired from the last mission, you roll in your bed to search for the comfortable presence of your girlfriend, just to find an empty place. With a tired sigh, you wait another five minutes and get up from the bed. Having fixed yourself for a trace of dignity after sleeping, you step close to the door to open it, but your gesture is anticipated. Cait stands at the door, fully clothed in her uniform and with a visible worried and sad expression on her face.

"Jeez, Cait, what happened?" you say - "Well, sorry. Hello in the first place, love. What is going on inside that pretty brain of yours?" Cait looks at you with sadness in her eyes, the blue irradiates from her pupils a sense of almost agony, not physiscal but mental. Withour saying a word, Cait places a small kiss on your cheek, leaving you with a surprised expression on your face, and takes your hand to guide you to the bed.

Cait lays down on the bed and you do the same, setting yourself on the other side, facing her. "Do you want to talk about what happened yestarday, Cait? I think the past mission is still bothering you". The task assigned to you two was the retrieval of a rare substance that had been taken by some of Silco's men, but the attack hadn't gone right and some enforcers were killed. The problem was that, during the fight, one of the enemies had accidentally killed a small girl that was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Cait was almost killed, frozen in place at the sight of the small life taken away, while the killer wasn't bothered that much.

"It was not your fault, Cait. You weren't responsable for anything. That son of a bitch was the animal, he didn't care about that. I have been taking a better perimeter of the zone and the next time, I can send some undercoverd enforcers to keep all the civils away".

"Why are we still fighting?" says Cait with a whisper - "Why do innocent people always get in the middle and are the ones that turns out to be the vistims of ours and Silco's stupid games? Why can't we just leave in peace and help each other". A small tear starts to appear at the corner of her blue eyes and you don't waist second to dry it.

"I am sorry, love, I know it is hard. But just with our hard work can we have better results. Civils are always the victims, in the end, and that sucks. It is how fights work and it is disgusting. But we can change that, we can make the city a better place for everyone. I spoke with Jayce yesterday, and he says that the hextech could also be used in medicine! Can you imagine it? It would be wondeful!" Putting a cheerish tone in your voice, you try to comfort your girlfriend, who repays you with a soft smile.

"Thank, honey, I needed that" says Cait - "Sometimes I get too carried away. But I want the same justice also for the people of Zaun, we are part of one city, in the end. Tomorrow I want to organise a ceremony for the little girl, let the Zaunites know we still care about them".

"That's how it is done. Love to see that sparkle in your eyes" you respond - "Now, what do you wanna do today? Beside the organisation of the ceremony. I have some work to do, but after that I am free".

Cait looks up at you and, with a delicate tone says: "Let's stay there five more minutes, please, I need some time to recollect myself". "Whatever you need love" you reply. Strocking her cheek just one more time, you get near Cait and, looking into her eyes, you start cuddling her, talking about the latest improvements of the hextech.

VI

The idea of relax for Vi can have different forms. It varies from a stroll on the roofs of Zaun to start a fight in a pub just for fun.

The two of you met during one of these fights and Vi saved your ass from a flying chair, just to look at you with a smirk on her face and say: "How can a beautiful face like yours be in miserable place like that?" In the meantime she was trying to hold back a man that was more large than tall. The flirt didn't stop after that night and the relationship was not late to arrive.

Vi owns a central place in your heart, her figure is always there to protect you and she would do anything to not let you get hurt. Her ways of showing affection have changed: at start she would just flirt and playing the dominant part, not showing any other emotions except cockiness. But after some time, Vi started to give you small kisses in public, calling you nicknames and showing a side of her that just a few people had been able to know.

The relationship has been doing great and, even though life in Zaun has never been easy, the two of you had found your place in a small house near Vander's statue.

That morning, after having passed the night out with your friends, you wake up with Vi by your side, but the cuddling time doesn't last enough, beacause Vi needs to go out for some commisions. Resting a bit more, you wake up after a couple of hours to find your girlfriend patching her arm up, with bruises all over her chest.

Running to her with a sudden movement, you get near and take her face into your hands, looking terrible worried. "What the hell, Vi? What happened to you, why are all covered in bruises? It seems like a giant has got you!" "You aren't so distant from reality, cupcake" Vi replies - "That jerk had got what he deserved. I am in a bad state, but you should see him". The last words put a smirk on Vi's face.

"Vi you can't start a bar fight at ten in the morning, jeez! You could have been more injuried". "I was not alone, capcake, don't worry. Ekko was there with me and we made a spledid fight".

Looking at her with judging eyes, you take the first aid kit and start to prepare the necessary to patch her arm. "So, I need to talk to him, too. That boy is in big trouble". Vi puts on a funny face, mixing the regret for having told about Ekko and the expectation for the outcome of your meeting.

"Don't think you are out of this, Vi. You will receive the lecture when you'll fell better". "Love that, cupcake. Always love when you lecture me" Vi says with a sarcastic tone, to tease you.

After having helped her with the arm, you start to disinfect her sore hands, where there's still a bit of blood. "Pay attention the next time, Vi, please. Hit him under the chin, he should go out in no time". "Thanks for the advice, cupcake. Now come here". After that, Vi places a soft kiss on your cheeks, and the rest of the morning is filled with the report of Vi about the fight, about how Ekko and her put down a dozen of Silco's men and the fun they had.

[wildsaltair]

husband? husband???

[skitskatdacat63]

I don't think I can ever emotionally recover from these

[lilacxquartz]

love you, love you, love you;

mr. crawling x reader

plot: some things are best expressed without the need of words — themes: spooning/cuddling, smut, maybe yan vibes — w.c: 1.1k

a/n: my first homicipher related fic. i want to try one for mr. silvair & mr. gap next, bc they were also my favs. this game has been taking over my life so much lately. like it’s been in my dreams, haaah.

masterlist • ao3

Mr. Crawling was always loud when he was excited within your company; his laughter filled out the vast empty spaces that were otherwise unadorned with familiarity. Whatever you once sought from those winding corridors was ever-fleeting, temporary, leaving you stuck within the confines of his company.

Yet, when he felt what you could only interpret as affection—that’s when Mr. Crawling then became different—quiet, soothing, kind but also… curious.

And when you would usually sleep, he would stand watch, knelt over the floor as per his usual stance but sometimes crouched near you, sometimes leaning back against the wall with his legs pressed up against his chest. He would watch you as his life depended on it, unwavering in focus and with eerie intensity. He would watch as your chest rose and fell, leaning close on occasion to catch the sweep of your breath and sometimes, he would trace the pad of his milky fingertips in long, languid strokes against your face. Always so delicate, so tender, but for the most part, quiet and even shy.

Having once caught a glimpse of Mr. Gap in your blanket space, however, set something territorial off for Mr. Crawling and he was never able to recover from such an invasion. The very idea that someone else was able to infiltrate what he deemed to be your space—especially someone who he disapproved of—wasn’t something he could stand for. Especially with the sort of trickster Mr. Gap was, he couldn’t bear to see you get hurt. It would kill him on the inside (and on the outside, too).

So, just as you were getting into bed to rest up once more, he too, slipped in under the covers with you. At first, you were startled as usual, turning to face him with confusion evident in your eyes, murmuring out some words in a language that he still could not understand. He repeated something back, the meaning lost and indecipherable upon your ears, though soon surrendering to emphasis using gestures instead. A hug to bring you closer, a reassuring pat on your head and a small, longing kiss over your nose.

You listened to his words again, repeating over and over like a broken record.

Perhaps he meant no harm, after all.

You turned your back to him and settled into his chest, finding that he was surprisingly warm for what he was. His taller frame encased your body, wrapping his ashen arms around your waist—accidentally brushing the fabric that sat over your breast—nicking the cloth ever so slightly. Your breath hitched in surprise and as though in sheepish realisation, he withdrew right away, terrified that you were upset with him.

You drew out a long breath, reminding yourself again, that after everything that has happened thus far…

That, Mr. Crawling does not want to hurt you.

That Mr. Crawling has only ever helped you.

So perhaps, right now, Mr. Crawling only wanted to be closer to you.

You relaxed your breathing, settling into his comforting shadow once more and allowed for his presence to envelop you. He repeated the soothing motions of his grappling arm, although he held onto you softer that time. His hands explored your body with a delicate touch, as though afraid of breaking you—of upsetting you again—his motions growing confident the longer that you didn’t protest. It wasn’t long before he, otherwise not disturbed by your lacking, conscious awareness, decided to explore further with you. Mr. Crawling’s fingers didn’t ask for permission that time, creeping beneath the clinging fabric, feeling your skin against his palms, inviting a pleased, almost delighted smile to curl on his lips.

The silence remained unbroken as Mr. Crawling continued his explorative focus on you; the quickly-building evidence of his need growing harder the longer he pushed himself behind your body, the repeated touches arousing something warmer within him. To both his surprise as well as your own—you were not repulsed, allowing him to creep even lower, below the skirt of the dress and up, brushing his hand up to your exposed skin and, reading into it—you communicated your consent from the moment you parted your legs, allowing him to get even closer.

Confidence surged in Mr. Crawling as he pushed himself into your hilt, allowing his hardened length to slip inside. Betraying the stagnant silence, he shuddered out a ragged gasp before giving into his own rising need; grinding himself into your sopping sex with steadily increasing fervour. His fingers clamped around the curve of your hips as he held you in place, slamming every last inch of himself deep into your core.

Ever touch-starved yet wanting nothing more than to surrender to the sensation of you, Mr. Crawling continued to drive his cock into your needy cunt, soon wrapping his winding arms around your body and holding on tight. He bucked intensely as you soon succumbed to breathless whimpers, incoherently begging for his name. Equally desperate whines rolled off the slip of his tongue as he found his lips pressed into the crook of your neck, dampening your skin with sloppy wet kisses—as many as he could give.

It felt overwhelming for you in a way to be worshipped like this but you did your best to keep up with such intensity, especially as the warm, tingling pleasure built up inside of you, too. You held on just as tight as he did, your hand seeking out his own—fingers weaving into his bony digits—interlocking and squeezing tight the closer you got, your grip and otherwise clenching need tightening simultaneously. To feel him losing himself inside of you was dare you admit, addicting, feeling him completely fill and stretch you out leaving you almost dizzied from the impaling force.

Mr. Crawling, like you, soon surrendered to the rolling bliss from the flick of his hips, feeling a surging warmth mount and rise, encouraging him to lose himself to the searing heat of the moment and you. Encircling your body in a possessive hug, he suddenly began to mutter out a new word in a strained mantra, again and again.

Given how desperate he seemed to be, you understood the meaning as ‘close’, especially as his actions grew more strained and less controlled.

“Close, close, close,” he repeated.

It didn’t take his chased release to catch up as his hips grew to a stutter, rutting out one final pump before melting into you. Mr. Crawling cried into your neck, spilling out the entirety of his overflowing love, feeling the pent-up devotion trickle down your thighs—yet not letting you move away—still retaining his claim on you.

Instead, he kept you even closer than before, not allowing you to part from him ever again (despite understanding your yearning for rest).

Words were never the problem, it seemed.

Mr. Crawling would have always found a way to… connect with you.

[all-eyes-no-dragon]

Learning shape theory was so great for my art

I was able to make body types for my characters, I found out why I hated Alan's glasses so damn much, I made a cool gargoyle today who is truly the gargoyle of all time someone said he looked like the minion from clash royale, which I suppose is better than old man?

Edit: the moment I doodled over the oval glasses and decided he needed a change of shape