#or just fluff

[roguemantis]

cute lil scene I just thought of :3

I see you there, NUzi shipper who is uncomfortably aware of the impending doom of their otp. Fluff be upon ye in these trying times.

Imagine N and Uzi want to go on a beach date even though all the water on the surface is frozen. To replicate the feeling of really going to the beach like humans, they decide to go during the day, arriving at the frosty shore not long before the sun rises. They have a beach towel and an umbrella set up, they brought a variety of beach toys (and sunscreen, even though it wouldn't help them at all), and are wearing swimsuits.

When the sun finally does rise, the two drones realize that it, in fact, would not work if they went to the beach during the day, and that they are now stranded on a beach towel under an umbrella until moonrise. This isn't entirely bad to them, though; spending the day in close proximity is still a nice idea to them.

While they wait for sunset, they kill time together. In the little sand under the shadow of the umbrella, they draw pictures and make little sandcastles. The two make up ocs and pretend to be those ocs on a stone raft in the middle of a sea of lava, trying to find a portal to get back to their home world (which they inadvertently end up fleshing out together). They also playfight. A lot. They'd probably also make out, too, iunno.

At the end of the day, the moon finally rises, and the two can go home. They fly back to the corpse spire, hand in hand, stealing glances back at the icy sand, both silently agreeing to do this day over again sometime.

[thefoolishshark]

Domestic fluff is the one thing that makes me just start kicking my feet like yes give me a story about two screwed up people that have childhood trauma living together and getting through rough things together, give me the morning cuddles and holding someone close as they cook breakfast in the morning. By Zeus give me f*cking soft kisses all over their partners face until they become flustered. Give me a story about two people who love each other and just do sweet things with each other.

Give me:

Soft gentle kisses during nights where neither one can sleep

Cuddling on the couch together with coffee and some dumb movie/show playing

Playfully teasing kisses and tackle hugging

Sweet little moments where speaking just doesn't need to happen

The softest words being spoke in a sweet whisper in their ear

Holding each other close and just letting it be how they stay together for a few moments

Kisses in the rain and sweet words in between soft kisses

Two lovers just holding hands as they walk around

Comfort cuddles

Helping with chores around the house/apartment

Playing with their hair

Stroking their hair

Forehead kisses

Letting them cry as they hold them

I want to see sweet gentle love, and I just love seeing it and I love trying to write it.

[obsesssedblerd]

You look up from your book to see your husband standing over the bassinet with his arms crossed, his brow raising as he looks down inside of it with a tiny scowl. He stays like that for about a minute. You sit up in your shared bed, then call out to him. “Ryo.” 

“Hm.” He doesn’t look up. 

“May I ask what you are doing?” 

“The little brat is staring,” Sukuna says matter-of-factly. “I am simply staring at her in return.” 

Inside of the bassinet, your baby daughter coos. Her scarlet eyes—exactly like her father’s—glitter with interest. You hear her giggle, and you scoff lightly and return your gaze to your book. “She thinks you’re playing a game.” 

“I am doing no such thing.” 

You flip a page. “Put a hand over your face for a few seconds.” He doesn’t respond, but you know he listens. “M’kay, now lift.” There’s silence for a few seconds, then your daughter bursts into a fit of giggles. 

Sukuna rolls his eyes. “I do not understand what is so entertaining about that.” When you look up again, you see that he’s covering his face again, then revealing himself to get the same reaction from the baby.

“It’s called peek-a-boo. It’s a game most babies love to play.” 

The little princess babbles as she lifts her arms up, and Sukuna tilts his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” 

You snicker. “One: You’ll figure out what she’s saying the more you talk with her. Two: She wants you to pick her up.” 

He sighs dramatically, then reaches into the bassinet to pick up the small girl. Though she has her father’s eyes, she has your hair, the shape of your nose, and your ears. She also has your fearlessness, because she smiles directly in the face of the king of curses. Now at his eye level, she reaches her arms towards him excitedly. “What is it now, you brat? I’m already carrying you.” 

He looks over at you in question, and your smile grows. “She wants to touch your face,” you say. 

“Why?” 

“Because she’s a baby, and she’s curious.” 

Sukuna pulls her closer, and once in range, his daughter lays her tiny hands against his marked face. She giggles more, and you can see his eyes soften. “Hmph. You have your mother’s smile.” 

�� — — —

The next morning, you walk into the kitchen where you hear Sukuna speaking with someone. When he turns to the side, you see your daughter nestled in the crook of one of his muscular arms, staring up at him as he concluded whatever story he was telling her. 

“...At the end of the battle, only I remained. Victory was mine.” 

The baby babbles excitedly, and Sukuna scoffs. “Ha, you will do no such thing. How do you expect to join me in battle when you aren’t even a year old, brat?” 

Her face scrunches in what looks like annoyance, and she repeats to him what he taught her the night before. “Hmph.” 

You burst into laughter, and Sukuna raises a brow at the little girl in his arms. “Great. Your mother’s smile, and her attitude.”

[ayyy-pee]

waking up freezing and shivering, teeth chattering every night because your husband is a blanket hog. you know it's not on purpose. he just can't help it. doesn't even know he does it most times. you'd think after years together you'd be used to it, but waking up curled into the fetal position as you try to retain even a smidge of warmth is something you don't think you'll ever adjust to.

so you reach behind you, feeling your spouses large form wrapped snug as a bug in your shared blanket and you grip onto the fabric. you pull as hard as you can but you don't manage to move him even an inch. you try once more...same result.

"ken..." you whisper, wrapping your arms around yourself. no response. "kento..."

he doesn't budge. you're tempted to just get up and go grab another blanket, but your husband, despite his seriousness, can get quite pouty when you do that. so you tap him hard instead sure to jab him in the spot you know is his most sensitive. this seems to do the trick as he grunts in response.

"I'm cold," you tell nanami and he sits up quickly, realizing what he's done. his pajama top hangs off one shoulder. his blonde hair is pointing every which way and sleep is heavy on his eyelids, threatening to weigh him down again any minute.

"I'm sorry, love," nanami speaks, voice rough and deep with exhaustion, but the sincerity in his apology clear.

then he's throwing the blanket back over you both. only he adds in a little extra warmth as he wraps his arm around your waist and throws a large leg over your body.

nanami buries his face in your neck, adjusting himself so that he can be as close to you as possible. only a few seconds pass before you hear his light snoring behind you. and you know the warmth you feel is from more than just his touch.

[readwritealldayallnight]

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

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

“What’s that, Si?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Simon, NO.”

[adoringmha]

doing that tik tok trend with katsuki where your bf ranks how mad he would be if another man touched you in different ways from 1 to 10...pls

the first image is someone squeezing your cheeks with one hand.

katsuki's jaw clenches, "no one would even be able to get that close to you."

you roll your eyes with a smile. "just imagine."

"then i'd blast his hand off." he blinks, serious as ever.

"you're not supposed to say what you'd do to them, you have to rank it."

he practically snarls. "one."

you laugh. "baby you have to be serious."

he cuts his eyes to you from the side. "does it look like i'm joking?"

"you have 10 things to rank, babe. i guarantee you that's not the worst thing you'll see."

he mutters to himself, "why did i agree to this." he sighs. "fine, four."

second, someone giving you a massage.

you swear, his eye twitches. "i'd break both his arms."

"that's not––"

"don't care." katsuki says matter of fact, adding his own rule to the game. "three."

third, you sitting in someone's lap, facing them.

he turns to look at you, offended.

you laugh, "why are you looking at me like i actually did it?"

he rolls his eyes. "tch, i'd break his kneecaps." he crosses his arms. "fucking one."

you sitting on someone's shoulders.

he runs a hand over his face in disbelief. "i'd knock him out, there's no way. why the fuck?-" he shakes his head. "two."

you stifle a laugh.

someone giving you a bath.

"immediately fucking no."

"katsuki-"

"they're all one, fuck it. we're done with this dumbass game."

[hellishattempt]

gojo's undercut this, gojo's undercut that

why is nobody talking about nanami's undercut

PLEASE SIR I JUST NEED FIVE MINUTES

[miss-jaye]

cw: slightly suggestive when nanami kento saw his wife about to leave the house in a stunning, tight sundress, he swore his whole world stopped for a moment.

“honey?”

“hm?” you glanced at him, then looked back at the mirror, trying not to stab yourself with your earring. nanami cleared his throat. “where are you going?” he asked as he walked over, standing behind you and sliding his hands around your waist.

“i’m having lunch with my friends, sweetie. i told you that this morning, remember?” you raised a brow, confused. your husband nodded dazedly, his eyes glued to your figure.

“right.” he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. “where are you going to have lunch?” he asked, his hands gently roaming over your body, feeling the fabric of the dress he so badly wanted to tear off you.

“that cafe we always go to…” you trailed off, finally securing your earring. “are you okay?” you met his gaze through the mirror. “i do this once a month—same place, same people.”

he nodded, humming in acknowledgment. you stayed silent for a moment, trying to figure out what had him so distracted. now that your earring was in place, you became hyper-aware of his hands, their slow, deliberate movements over your hips, squeezing in that familiar way that told you he was restraining himself from acting on his desires.

oh.

a blush crept up your cheeks as you realized nanami hadn’t seen this dress on you yet. you’d just bought it last week and forgot to show him. “kento?”

you called out to him, but he seemed too entranced by the way the dress clung to your curves. he leaned in closer, burying his nose in your neck, his hands trailing down to squeeze your thighs.

you let out a startled moan, hastily covering your mouth. he inhaled deeply, the scent of your perfume overwhelming his senses.

“your friends won’t mind if you’re a few minutes late, right?”

[theorist-fox]

Can I interest you in some silly sex with Simon? 🧎🏻‍♀️‍➡️

18+

Word count: 1k.

CW: nothing really. Just silly sex. Just giggling sex. Just I-need-to-give-this-man-some-humanity sex. Simon is ticklish and you find out, that's the plot.

Masterlist 🦊

You look delectable straddling his hips.

Naked and soft, plump tits sitting prettily in his hands. His thumbs swipe idly around your perked nipples as you ride him slowly, early morning sun peeking through the curtains and lapping at your skin. What a way to wake up, what a sight.

He stares at your lips and how they part for him—something he still has to get used to, though he probably never truly will. How dulcet does his name sound if it’s your voice whispering it, how beautiful your eyes when they take in his face.

Soft hands are pressed on his chest for leverage, and you’re treating him with a view he keeps pinned to the forefront of his brain—gliding your cunt until you’re chock-full of him, stroking yourself until you’re shivering.

He likes it when he’s on top, sure. He’s used to taking the lead and orchestrating every detail, in and out of the job. 

But when you allow him to sit back and take it? Hell, sign him up. He’d do it every day. Especially when it’s this lazy sex here, in which you’re canting your hips to cum before he does, giving him the blissful chance of feeling you clench around him when he's still hard. 

Goosebumps rise under your nails as they graze down his chest and brush his stomach. Your hands wander blindly on his belly, then his sides, as you clock his eyes with your heavy ones, panting softly, idly—my beautiful, beautiful girl.

But then you inadvertently brush his ribs, and he stiffens—even squirms, and your movements come to a halt.

You blink as conscience returns to you slowly, and the room sinks into tense silence. His cock twitches inside of you when you tilt your head inquisitively, squinting your eyes.

Experimentally, you brush your fingertips against his ribs again, and his biceps flatten to his sides, trapping your hands.

Your eyes widen, and his do the same.

“Don’t.”

You gasp, “Oh my God.”

“Darling, no.” He warns, but you’ve clearly made up your mind already.

Your lips are curled in a smile that promises mischief, and he can only give up, sit back, and count his losses.

“Darling, yes.”

Simon feels your fingers wiggle under the tight press of his arms, but no matter his strength, they're seemingly useless against that playful resolve you're displaying.

His cock is still embarrassingly hard inside you, and Simon reckons it won't soften any time soon. You don’t seem eager to get off him either, thus prolonging the torture with each tiny movement you make.

He inhales sharply and fights tooth and nail to school his expression into neutrality. His eyes are narrowed, and his jaw is locked tight. The only thing giving him away is the flush of his cheeks, getting pinker by the second because he refuses to open his mouth to breathe a much-needed lungful of air. Knowing that if he would, he'd bark a laugh that would proclaim you as the winner of this fight.

He would never.

You roll your hips, then—cheap trick. He unravels with a shaky breath, and his biceps give out enough for you to slip your hands away.

And then, he knows he's done for.

“Cut it out.” He barks, trying to sound stern and miserably failing. He knows because you're laughing even harder.

Your fingers feel like tiny bugs crawling up his sides, and they make his breath catch in his throat.

“Never.” You say, with a grin that scrunches your nose. A smile that would normally make his heart throb, but right now just makes him wish he were a lesser man so he could throttle you.

“Fuckin’-“

You chuckle.

You evil little cunt.

Resistance lasts a few more seconds before he bursts.

It’s not a full laugh that leaves him; more of a wheeze that makes you chortle like a wicked witch. His chest heaves as your fingers frantically tickle his sides. Tries to get you off him by shaking his hips, but that only makes the two of you falter and moan, and then chuckle and catch your breaths.

His shoulders shake in a breathless, choking laugh that pitches upward as you continue with your assault (yes, assault—he is not being dramatic), eyes veiled with tears of frustration and mirth. He shrieks when your hands travel under his armpits—the sound makes you giggle in a way that would have him melt. 

“That laugh’s lovely, baby.” You say with a smarmy grin he wishes he could wipe with a kiss, hands unrelenting against his sides. “Sound like a kettle whistling.”

He tries to glower and push you off, but you’re surprisingly strong when you’re focused. Right now, your only goal is to apparently make him hate you—he'd rather be held at gunpoint than being forced to hold in a laugh that makes his stomach hurt.

Simon now looks shockingly harmless, with his cheeks flushed bright red and his voice an octave too high—wouldn't look dangerous if he tried.

“Tea ready, yet?” You add, batting your lashes, because why not rub salt into the already embarrassing wound marring his pride.

It’s that unfathomably stupid joke that finally makes Simon crack. He barks out a laugh that bubbles up his throat, rippling through his stomach so suddenly that you bounce above him. Your own laugh follows soon after, because each time you manage to steal one from him, your heart vibrates with loving triumph.

But still—he is Simon Riley, isn’t he? Member of Task Force 141. Lieutenant in the UK Special Forces, SAS. The Ghost. There is some pride in there, one he'd like to keep intact.

He tries to recollect his breath, sniffling, and his arms shoot out to wrap around your waist. He rolls onto his side, taking you with him.

It’s then that you find yourself in a position of utter disadvantage, on your back with your big brute of a boyfriend holding you down. You’re wide-eyed and still smiling with barely contained giggles, and he’d be lying if he said it doesn't make his heart soar.

Sure, he’s panting, still proper flushed and apple-cheeked, with shivers wrecking his spine and unshed tears in his eyes—but he takes great pride in having won yet another fight (again, not overreacting at all, if you ask him).

He grabs your wrists and pins them above your head.

You fix him with a look. “Simon, no.”

Before you can add more to your complaint, he rams his cock into you until your chest stutters, your lips mouthing around a shaky breath he drinks dry with a wet kiss.

He fucks you into the mattress, then—once, twice, until the remnants of laughter vanish from your face and you’re trembling in bliss, eyes rolled back under heavy eyelids.

He places a sloppy kiss down to your collarbone.

“Simon, yes.”

[bluegiragi]

december morning.

early access + nsfw on patreon

[arminsumi]

Bff!Satoru, who immediately tells every guy that asks about you "Nah, she's out of your league... but not mine."

Bff!Satoru, who denies having hidden feelings for you, ignoring the panging in his chest, "I was just joking."

Bff!Satoru, who claims to be joking around but also hotly presses his lips against your face and finds his way to your lips when he's high on the night air... but then promptly plays it off the next day.

Bff!Satoru who is the first to comment on your posts, especially on photos of you and him — and he stares smittenly into the pixels. Maybe sometimes kisses his screen, right over your lips.

Bff!Satoru who stands tall, 6'3, at your side, so close that people just assume he's your boyfriend.

[magewritesstories]

just gonna leave this here

[urfriendlywriter]

specific tropes in romance that always heal something in me that it never broke

like, forehead kisses, soft love confessions, peppering kisses all over the lover's face. promises that are kept, hands those are held with a gentle love, and hugs that engulf the heart too.

or when they rest their head on your chest, or lean on you for support.

"your tears kill me," kinda thing. or when a sunshine character finally cries and bawls their entire life's hurt out into their comfort grumpy character (plus point, if the grump feels guilty thinking if they had done something to trigger this emotional outburst)

communication. no matter hard the topic is, how big your differences are.

listening to the other person yap

admiring their facial features and seeing not just the outer structure but the person that they really are.

them getting angry on ur behalf

cradling each other in hugs basically

feeling emotional walls break when you're with that one person particularly

gentle communication. yearning to do more for your lover (!!!!)

affectionate smiles and eyes crinkling with a smile that's directed specially at you.

finding their laugh contagious.

the feeling of being accepted, despite flaws and all

silent domestic acts like being in the kitchen together, dressing up together, them drying ur hair while u sit between their legs

occasionally stolen kisses

or one deep kiss that just lights your world and fulfills your soul and heart.

sleepily nuzzling into each other!!

reaching for each other despite being asleep, with mumbled endearments and whispers of need!!!

laughter coming easily by their side, like happiness is just another day to day thing (this can also be about self love. when u truly love urself and prioritize your own rights and cherish the fact that you're you. happiness becomes beautiful even in solitude)

their fingers buried deep in yo- OOPS.?! :)

[obsesssedblerd]

Smau: "I want you back." ☹️❤️‍🩹

The guys getting you back after a breakup. ♥️

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

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

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

[sauerhundz]

Just soft!Sylus

Sylus who's been waiting all this time for you and can't stand the thought of being away from you.

Sylus who loves the thought of waking up next to you and holding you close to his body, breathing in your scent he hasn't smelt in so long. Who lays in bed staring at your face that he's memorized a thousand times over.

Sylus who watches you walk around his house in his clothes and it fills him with a sense of possessive pride. The dragon in him pleased to see you returned to his hoard once more.

Sylus who would hand you the world on a platter, if you would only ask. Who would rip his own heart from his chest if it would please you.

Sylus who wants to breathe in everything that you are and consume you from the inside out.

Sylus who can't even stomach the thought of another, because for him there's never been anyone but you.

Sylus who misses you even if you don't remember.

He's still your dragon.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon’s home.

Which means he’s glued to your side.

You wouldn’t have it any other way.

The two of you are in a local bookstore, the shop having caught your eye while out on a stroll together, each of you going to your respective shelves to find your preferred genres.

Simon grabs the first novel he thinks sounds interesting, quickly snatching the book by its spine so that he can cross the few steps back to your side.

His eyebrows furrow when he notices how closely you’re holding a book up to your face, your own eyes squinting at the back cover.

“Havin’ trouble there, love?” He asks as he approaches.

“Can’t believe I let myself run out of contact lenses.” You reply, trying your best to decipher the blur of black ink on the pages.

“Could’ve worn your glasses.” He retorts, something he’d already suggested more than once since you ran out of your contacts and had to order new ones.

“You know I only like wearing them at home.”

“But you’re so cute in ‘em.”

“Yeah well, you’re the only one who thinks so.” You mumble under your breath, though Simon hears it of course, the crease in his brow deepening.

“Wha’s that supposed to mean?” He gruffs out.

“I just got teased a bit in school was all Si, typical kid stuff. Just stuck with me I guess, but it’s fine, I have my contact lenses.” You explain to him.

Simon considers your words for a moment, the gears evidently turning in his head, muscular arms crossed over his large chest.

“And do we know where these fuckin’ tossers are at now?”

“Oh my god Simon, don’t-”

“Have we got any names to work with?”

“That is not-”

“Any addresses?”

“You are not about to-”

“Pictures?”

“I was like ten years old-”

“S’alright lovie, we’ll dig up your yearbooks when we get home.” He simply says, plucking your book from your hands and heading towards the register to pay.