#soft times with bajo

[juakiuri]

Whispers of Silence/

Susurros del Silencio

Susurros del Silencio

Cae la tarde sobre el río tranquilo, las sombras se alargan, el cielo es delicado, y el susurro del agua trae ecos antiguos, como voces que el tiempo ha dejado olvidadas.

Las estrellas comienzan a vestirse de plata, el viento, suave, acaricia las rocas, y en cada rincón se oculta un suspiro, que se pierde en la vastedad de la noche.

Bajo este cielo, el alma se diluye, buscando respuestas que el silencio encierra. Es en la calma donde todo se entiende, y en el olvido, el alma se renueva.

ENGLISH:

Whispers of Silence:

The evening falls over the tranquil river, shadows grow long, the sky is delicate, and the whisper of the water brings ancient echoes, like voices that time has left forgotten.

The stars begin to dress in silver, the wind, soft, caresses the rocks, and in every corner hides a sigh, lost in the vastness of the night.

Under this sky, the soul dissolves, seeking answers that silence holds. It is in calmness where everything is understood, and in oblivion, the soul is renewed.

[virtie333]

Writing Patterns

tagged by @soft-girl-musings. Thank you! I need to get my nerves settled before I start writing and this should help!

Rules: list the first line of your last 10 (posted) fics and see if there's a pattern!

I'm going to skip the drabbles and the reposted X-File fics for this one.

Bisque: Poe Dameron walked toward the stairs that led to the front door of the old Victorian house, excitement flowing through him.

While You Were Sleeping: When Rey Dameron opened her eyes, she knew she wasn’t in her bed.

Shameless: “This is not how I thought this day was gonna go.”

Blind Faith: “Breathe!”

El Dìa de le Boda: Poe Dameron looked at his reflection in the mirror, readjusting his bow tie for what felt like the fiftieth time.

Beg, Borrow, or Steal - Part 3: When The Chronicler exited hyperspace and the giant orange ball of Yavin appeared in the viewscreen, Poe Dameron felt his whole body relax in a way it rarely ever did.

She Makes Him Laugh: The Galactic Government Solutions Conference was in its third day, and Rey Skywalker was more than ready for it to end.

Caer del Cielo: Rey Smith looked around the small plane as the people around her got settled. 

Bajo el Àrbol de Navidad: Deputy Poe Dameron sat in his patrol vehicle, a three-year old Chevy Tahoe, staring out into the snow as it fell lightly on the road in front of him

Paint It Black: “Katia?�� 

Yeah, I'm not seeing much of a pattern. Which I guess is a good thing. Keep people guessing? LOL

No pressure tags: @my-secret-shame, @coneygoil, @diplomaticprincess, @reallyrallyauthor, @spacecowboyhotch, @ivystoryweaver, @randomfoggytiger, and anyone else.

Sorry if I forgot anyone or if anyone was tagged double: I'm in a post therapy let-down so I'm tired!

[baladaenmediodelacaceria]

La cáscara del fruto de un cactus, Noor Hindi

a partir de Solmaz Sharif

====  ====  ==== 

Querido K,

¿Has soñado con granadas esta semana? Siempre hablabas del reflejo de los granados en los ojos de tu abuelo. Si la historia es una mujer de manos suaves sirviendo té negro, entonces que haya luz de sol, un sillón blandito, un joven palestino que entra por primera vez a su casa. ¿No es maravilloso? Que la mujer sea judía, sin que haya nada político en la forma en que anhela la seguridad de su hijo, ni tampoco en los años transcurridos entre 1948 y 1974, años que tu abuelo pasó llorando la tierra que usó para plantar aquellos granados. En esta versión de la historia, hay algo de perdón. Ven, ven, ella te llama. Todo cambiará. Tal vez le recuerdes a su hijo, tienes su misma tez aceitunada. Tú entra. 

====

Querido K,

Esto es real. Me cuentas historias. Repites ¿entendiste? y ¿me oyes? como si no te creyera. Odias la forma en que interrumpo Al Jazeera, la forma en que hago preguntas. Tu cuerpo está hundido en nuestro desgastado sillón beige. Cada hora que hablamos me pregunto si alguna vez harás contacto visual. ¿Me mirarás? Los hábitos palestinos mueren porque los cuerpos palestinos están muriendo: están muertos. Pasa todos los días. Les importa un carajo tu abuelo, cómo pasó muchos de sus días mirando el techo, inhalando humo de cigarro, dependiendo de las Naciones Unidas para comer, para refugiarse. Año tras año, tú revoloteabas a su alrededor: inquebrantable.

====

Querido K,

En una foto, estás a su lado, con una pequeña sonrisa, pantalones de vestir y un suéter. Me dijiste una vez que él te quitaría el miedo a golpes. ¿Es por eso que tienes una historia de hostilidad? Mi mamá dice que le escribías cartas de amor. Ella rompió todas y cada una de las notas que le diste y luego las quemó. Este conflicto continúa. Me pregunto cuánto de ti había en esas páginas.

====

Querido K,

Imagina un día en la vida de un niño palestino de 13 años, lo llamaré     .     arroja una piedra a un tanque israelí porque Israel sólo autoriza que los residentes de Gaza tengan entre dos y cuatro horas de electricidad al día. Un soldado israelí atrapa a     , lo pone frente a un muro y amenaza con dispararle.     piensa en las nubes, en lo mucho que le gustaría saludarlas algún día.      eras tú, eres tú. En un sueño, mi bisabuela huye de su casa, con una olla sobre la cabeza para protegerse del sol. Quizás si hubiera tenido menos sed de tu amor éste sería más grande, más fuerte, más profundo.

====

Querido K,

¿Recuerdas los frutos de cactus que siempre traías a casa? La cáscara del fruto del cactus tiene cientos de espinas como pelillos que se esconden bajo su superficie. Siempre sabías el lugar exacto que debía cortar la hoja del cuchillo para abrir la parte dulce del fruto. ¿No es eso el amor?

 ====  ====  ====

Las partes en cursiva de este poema están tomadas del discurso del primer ministro israelí, Benjamin Netanyahu, en la Asamblea General de la ONU de 2016, el 22 de septiembre de 2016. 

the shell of a cactus fruit, noor hindi

after Solmaz Sharif

 ====  ====  ==== 

Dear K,

Have you dreamt of pomegranates this week? All the time you would talk of the pomegranate trees that reflected from your grandfather’s eyes. If history is a woman with gentle hands pouring black tea, let there be sunlight, a soft chair, a young Palestinian boy entering his home for the first time. How remarkable is that? Let the woman be Jewish, and let there be nothing political about the way she yearns for her son’s safety, about the years between 1948 and 1974, years your grandfather spent mourning the dirt he used to plant those pomegranate trees. In this version of history, there is some forgiveness. Come in, come in she beckons you. Everything will change. Maybe you remind her of her son, how you both share the same olive-skinned complexion. You enter. 

 ====

Dear K,

All this is real. You tell me stories. You repeat did you get that? and do you hear me? like I won’t believe you. You hate the way I interrupt Al Jazeera, the way I ask questions. Your body is collapsed on our tired beige couch. Every hour we talk makes me wonder if you’ll ever make eye contact. Will you look at me? Palestinian habits die because Palestinian bodies are dying -- are dead. It happens every day. They couldn’t care less about your grandfather, how he spent so many of his days staring at a ceiling, inhaling cigarette smoke, relying on the United Nations for food, for shelter. Year after year, you hovered around him -- unbreakable.

====

Dear K,

In a photo, you stand next to him, wearing a small smile, dress pants, and a sweater. You told me once that he would smack fear right out of you. Is this why you have a history of hostility? Mom says you wrote love letters to her. She ripped each and every note you ever gave her, then burned them. This conflict rages. I wonder how much of you existed in those pages.

====

Dear K,

Imagine a day in the life of a 13-year-old Palestinian boy, I’ll call him        .          throws a rock at an Israeli tank because Israel will not allow more than two to four hours of electricity a day for residents in Gaza. An Israeli soldier catches          , lines him up in front of a wall, then threatens to shoot.  thinks about clouds, how he’d one day like to greet them.          was you, is you. In a dream, my great-grandmother flees her home, a pot held over her head to keep from the sun. Perhaps if she had thirsted a little less your love would be greater, stronger, more profound.

====

Dear K,

Remember the cactus fruits you would always bring home? The shell of the cactus fruit has hundreds of hair-like thorns hiding under its surface. You always knew the exact place the blade of the knife must slice to open the sweet part of the fruit. Is that not love?

 ====  ====  ====

The italicized parts of this poem are taken from Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu’s speech at the 2016 UN General Assembly on September 22, 2016. 

[monsterlovinghours]

when you find the time for requests, could you do headcanons for how the dons would help their s/o who is exhausted mentally and physically?

what a coincidence that I am also exhausted mentally and physically

-Whatever is exhausting you, whether it's work, or socializing, or family drama, they'll remove you from it as much as they can. Each has their own idea on what would best relax and recharge you, and you're free to take your pick (or choose all of them if you like!).

-Gio is going to take you to all the nicest, must luxurious spas all around the world. He's going to make sure every ache in your body is soothed, and some excellent food and wine along the way will also surely nourish your soul as well as your body. He'll spend weeks showering you with praise, lavishing you with gifts, and making sure you're pampered and spoiled every second.

-Cia is getting you drunk. You have free reign of his tavern; whatever you want to drink, it's yours. In addition, Bajo and Cia would take you glamping, if some time spent in nature would help you. Cia's a pro at living outdoors, and Bajo will set up this beautiful tent inside one of those plastic bubbles with soft mats to lie on, absolutely swimming in blankets and pillows and plushies, surrounded by his sweetest-smelling roses.

-Speaking of Bajo, when he sees how tired and run down you are, makes it his mission to get you as comfortable and relaxed as he can. He'll install a nap pit the size of a standard living room that's basically a gigantic bed sunk into the floor, and would you look at that, there's little cubbies to stash snacks and books in and even a mini fridge for drinks. If you want, you could spend days snuggled up in that thing, sleeping as much as you want and cuddling with as many clones as you can handle.

-Scarabee is taking you to a rage room to get all your frustration out, and hopefully some wanton destruction will get your endorphins up. He'll treat you to a night on the town in one of his casinos, rig the games so you get that rush from winning (its money he'd probably spend on you anyway), and cap off the night with an elaborate dinner he made himself, enjoyed out on the boat deck under the stars.

-Zhuk owns like, two dozen luxury resorts, you have free use of them anytime you please. But aside from that, he'll bring you to animal rescues and shelters for dog/cat therapy. You want to spend an afternoon playing with puppies? He's got you. Want to adopt a new cat to take home and cuddle with? Already done.

-Saft will take you for a roadtrip through gorgeous countrysides on his motorcycle, or in a car if you're not comfortable with bikes. Maybe some time away in an unfamiliar place is what you need, no worrying about being places on time or following specific routes. You're just going where the winds take you.

-Bjalla is going to take you on a luxury shopping spree. This will be the most indulgent retail therapy you've ever taken part in. Bespoke outfits, gowns or suits for formal occasions, jewelry and accessories you'd never dreamed of. They'll make you feel like royalty.

-Mozzie is going to indulge any daredevil/impulsive ideas you have. You wanna go get that tattoo you've been dreaming of? Say less, let's go. You wanna sneak into the art museum after hours and look at paintings without the crowds? He can get into the security system and make sure you're not caught. Skydiving? Bungee jumping? Zip lining? He's right behind you. Also definitely has the hookups for some great shit if you wanna get high--I mean, all of the dons do, really, but Mozzie will let you try the Netherworld stuff none of the others will let you touch. Under his supervision, of course.

[mykindoffairytale]

This year

This year has been an absolute nightmare, from undergoing the trenches that was KKH paeds, absolutely fearful of the coming day, to loving and being proud of myself that I actually made it. Remebered the blurry mornings, the painful history takings, my seniors slogging it out with me, kind seniors and those that hated my guts. I remembered being somewhat happy when things started becoming better, of course I loved the prerounding. Even managed a Sasha Sloan concert midway through. Then it was Taiwan, that was pretty meh but also pretty glorious.

Onto GS, where I was enjoying myself very much the first few months before everything came crumbling down, slowly but surely. Regretful actions were made but I'd generally attribute that to the wrong crowd- GS was definitely full of the absolute wrongest people. Made it to Laufey, made it to indo once again, and finally went to Uk. Saw glasgow who held my heart since I left, but going back I realised I had taken all she had to offer. Every month, mistakes were made, plenty of I wish I didnt say that till the very end. Thankful for everyone that loved me and stood by, and thankful for myself for never giving up on me.

Then very quickly it was NPL, that was spent lazing around, Jakarta, Seoul- which was greatly healing, and Bali- Labuan Bajo. The latter of which carried news Ive always dreamt of in nightmares, waking up in tears, safely forgetting the pain that I have dreamt. However, this time the pain was much to real, till now I try not to think about it, because I wish you had been kinder- especially because I had loved you so. Sadly it was towards the end, when I came home that I realised how bitter you were, and how although you provided, I was never your pride and joy. But by this time I knew how much I had laboured, and how much I had thought of/for you. Giving up quite abit of indulgence from guilt, stressing from the concept of "limited wealth" you had put in my head. No doubt I am ever thankful that you had given me a once in a lifetime experience - that was the best in my life. But at the end of it, my sadness was quickly blunted by self-preservation, I remembered your cutting words, my earnest love, your great providence and the joy of your presence. At the end, I'd call it even- not your lifetime full of contributions and the shortness of mine, but in general the positive influence you had on my life, although I wished you were more and myself slightly "less". I still miss waking you for snacks, thankful for your ever peaceful departure. Thank you for Malaysia and Glasgow.

Oh I forgot about Vietnam, the food great, the company peaceful. My alternative sister from different parents.

Oh I too forgot about Nik, who has been a steady source of comfort on work days, thankful we got to grow together, again its not about counting the gives and the takes, not about giving what you got, but a giving from what God has given to us.

The end of the year in Cardio has been the best so far, Cardio was a soft landing spot into the realm of MO ship, Ive gone to more services, exercise classes and received an exceeding amount of grace despite my underperforming ass. Im reconsidering IM because of her, but also very aware of what stands ahead. Nothing much has changed, the motion remains very much the same, fear-grace-growth, sprinkled with regret here and there.

The proposal this year was too a highlight- true love, girlhood. Definitely felt the love, and for an all too deserving couple <3

These moments of quiet reflection come less frequently, expecially with baseline "anxiety" and lack of spirituality. Thankful that pondering over money has gotten me here.

Looking forward to a better year next year, with more looking to Jesus rather than the ways of this world.

[jazzandother-blog]

Edward Kennedy «Duke» Ellington

(English / Español / Italiano)

New York, 4 December 1927.

The night pulses to the rhythm of the city that never sleeps, but at the Cotton Club in Harlem the air is different, vibrant, as if something extraordinary is about to happen. It is the debut of a new orchestra, and everyone is talking about this young conductor: Duke Ellington, a pianist from Washington who is said to have taken jazz music to a level no one had ever dared imagine.

The Cotton Club is no ordinary club. It is the temple of entertainment of the time, an exclusive place frequented by the city's rich whites, where the greatest African-American artists perform. It is the place where segregation is momentarily put aside, at least for those who can afford it. On stage, elegance meets rebellion, talent defies prejudice.

As the lights dim and the audience gathers in silence, Duke takes the stage with his orchestra. The ambience is imbued with feverish anticipation. The musicians take their positions, their instruments shine in the spotlight, and the silence is shattered by a sound that no one will ever forget: a hypnotic, nuanced melody that seems to capture the very soul of Harlem.

The piece is 'Creole Love Call' (listen here), a masterpiece that mixes traditional jazz with blues influences and a sound that Ellington calls 'jungle style'. It is an explosion of innovation. The woodwinds shout and whisper, the piano creates soft waves, while Adelaide Hall's voice rises in a wordless chant, like a primordial call. The audience is enraptured, mesmerised, unable to look away.

That night, Duke Ellington not only debuted at the Cotton Club; that night, a legend was born. His music broke barriers, defined an era and became the sound of a changing America. His name begins to circulate everywhere, and soon it is not only Harlem that knows him, but the whole world.

Today, 97 years later, we can only imagine the energy and magic of that evening. But one thing is certain: jazz changed forever that night, when Duke Ellington and his orchestra turned on the lights of the future on the Cotton Club stage!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Nueva York, 4 de diciembre de 1927.

La noche late al ritmo de la ciudad que nunca duerme, pero en el Cotton Club de Harlem el aire es diferente, vibrante, como si algo extraordinario estuviera a punto de suceder. Es el debut de una nueva orquesta, y todo el mundo habla de este joven director: Duke Ellington, un pianista de Washington del que se dice que ha llevado la música jazz a un nivel que nadie se había atrevido a imaginar.

El Cotton Club no es un club cualquiera. Es el templo del entretenimiento de la época, un lugar exclusivo frecuentado por los blancos ricos de la ciudad, donde actúan los más grandes artistas afroamericanos. Es el lugar donde la segregación se deja momentáneamente de lado, al menos para quienes pueden permitírselo. En el escenario, la elegancia se une a la rebeldía, el talento desafía los prejuicios.

Cuando las luces se atenúan y el público se reúne en silencio, Duke sube al escenario con su orquesta. El ambiente está impregnado de una febril expectación. Los músicos toman posiciones, sus instrumentos brillan bajo los focos y el silencio se rompe con un sonido que nadie olvidará jamás: una melodía hipnótica y llena de matices que parece capturar el alma misma de Harlem.

Se trata de "Creole Love Call" (escucha aquí), una obra maestra que mezcla el jazz tradicional con influencias del blues y un sonido que Ellington denomina "jungle style". Es una explosión de innovación. Las maderas gritan y susurran, el piano crea suaves ondas, mientras la voz de Adelaide Hall se eleva en un canto sin palabras, como una llamada primordial. El público está embelesado, hipnotizado, incapaz de apartar la mirada.

Aquella noche, Duke Ellington no sólo debutó en el Cotton Club; aquella noche nació una leyenda. Su música rompió barreras, definió una época y se convirtió en el sonido de una América cambiante. Su nombre empieza a circular por todas partes, y pronto no es sólo Harlem quien le conoce, sino el mundo entero.

Hoy, 97 años después, sólo podemos imaginar la energía y la magia de aquella noche. Pero una cosa es cierta: el jazz cambió para siempre aquella noche, cuando Duke Ellington y su orquesta encendieron las luces del futuro en el escenario del Cotton Club.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

New York, 4 dicembre 1927.

La notte pulsa al ritmo della città che non dorme mai, ma al Cotton Club di Harlem l’aria è diversa, vibrante, come se qualcosa di straordinario stesse per accadere. È il debutto di una nuova orchestra, e tutti parlano di questo giovane direttore: Duke Ellington, un pianista di Washington che, si dice, abbia portato la musica jazz a un livello che nessuno aveva mai osato immaginare.

Il Cotton Club non è un locale qualunque. È il tempio del divertimento dell’epoca, un luogo esclusivo, frequentato dai ricchi bianchi della città, dove si esibiscono i più grandi artisti afroamericani. È il luogo dove la segregazione viene momentaneamente messa da parte, almeno per chi può permetterselo. Sul palco, l’eleganza incontra la ribellione, il talento sfida i pregiudizi.

Quando le luci si abbassano e il pubblico si raccoglie nel silenzio, Duke sale sul palco con la sua orchestra. L’ambiente è intriso di un’attesa febbrile. I musicisti prendono posizione, i loro strumenti brillano sotto i riflettori, e il silenzio viene infranto da un suono che nessuno dimenticherà mai: una melodia ipnotica, ricca di sfumature, che sembra catturare l’anima stessa di Harlem.

Il pezzo è “Creole Love Call” (ascolta quì), un capolavoro che mescola la tradizione jazz alle influenze blues e al sound che Ellington chiama “jungle style”. È un’esplosione di innovazione. I fiati urlano e sussurrano, il pianoforte crea onde morbide, mentre la voce di Adelaide Hall si alza in un canto senza parole, come un richiamo primordiale. Il pubblico è rapito, ipnotizzato, incapace di distogliere lo sguardo.

Quella notte, Duke Ellington non solo debutta al Cotton Club; quella notte, nasce una leggenda. La sua musica rompe le barriere, definisce un’epoca e si impone come il suono di un’America in trasformazione. Il suo nome inizia a circolare ovunque, e presto non sarà solo Harlem a conoscerlo, ma il mondo intero.

Oggi, a 97 anni di distanza, possiamo solo immaginare l’energia e la magia di quella serata. Ma una cosa è certa: il jazz cambiò per sempre quella notte, quando Duke Ellington e la sua orchestra accesero le luci del futuro sul palco del Cotton Club!

Source: Emiliano D'Alessandro on Facebook

[ochoislas]

Los recovecos de su lar fragante tesoro mágico encerraban: soplos —cuyo poder a todo genio liga—, en un silencio de cristal cautivos: cual en la infancia oímos, y pensamos que nunca morirán, mas en un guiño sonido e impresión se desvanecen, dejándonos tan sólo la añoranza.

Raudas visiones, dulces, peregrinas, yacían en leves vainas, como ninfas: quieren unas romper, desmayan otras de intensísimo gozo emperezadas; tienen misión de sustentar los santos que adoran en su pecho el sacro altar de parigual Amor: versicolores y de mil formas… todas a su imperio.

Y en un aviario de árboles edénicos, siempre floridos, confinaba aromas, envueltos en flotante red que un hada tejió sin luna de haces de rocío: dentro chocaban como los murciélagos contra las mallas de una vaquería; si libres y avisados muy capaces de levantar pasión en cualquier mente.

Y claras linfas dulces, con virtud de remediar durmiendo el alma enferma, eterna muerte transformar en noche de sueño esplendoroso, o fatal llanto mudar en lágrimas de puro gozo, sellaba muy celosa en sus ampollas: que si de ellas bebieran los mortales, dicen que el muerto no envidiara al vivo.

Acopiaba la cueva extraños rollos, obra de un saturnal y prócer mago, que ilustraba expiaciones con que el hombre cobrara de su dios la edad dorada que perdió, reparando el vicio innato, y, sacia ya su destructiva furia de sangre y oro, el paso equiparara con el curso armonioso de los astros;

Y cómo toda cosa indomeñable, que retener o aprisionar no cabe, de la mágica ciencia acata ensalmos; sea tiempo, tierra, fuego, viento, mar, o la imperiosa voluntad del hombre; y otros escritos que desentrañaban recóndito saber de amor… ¡profanos de indagar sus secretos se recaten!

Y maravillas de sustancia ignota, en que su padre por encantamiento mudara moles de tozuda peña, arrinconaba en pilas su retiro: labrados griales, lámparas que lucen con íntimo fulgor: como corolas en cuyo seno late la luciérnaga, bajo negro ciprés en noche ciega.

*

The deep recesses of her odorous dwelling Were stored with magic treasures—sounds of air, Which had the power all spirits of compelling, Folded in cells of crystal silence there; Such as we hear in youth, and think the feeling Will never die—yet ere we are aware, The feeling and the sound are fled and gone, And the regret they leave remains alone.

And there lay Visions swift, and sweet, and quaint, Each in its thin sheath, like a chrysalis, Some eager to burst forth, some weak and faint With the soft burthen of intensest bliss. It was its work to bear to many a saint Whose heart adores the shrine which holiest is, Even Love's:—and others white, green, gray, and black, And of all shapes—and each was at her beck.

And odours in a kind of aviary Of ever-blooming Eden-trees she kept, Clipped in a floating net, a love-sick Fairy Had woven from dew-beams while the moon yet slept; As bats at the wired window of a dairy, They beat their vans; and each was an adept, When loosed and missioned, making wings of winds, To stir sweet thoughts or sad, in destined minds.

And liquors clear and sweet, whose healthful might Could medicine the sick soul to happy sleep, And change eternal death into a night Of glorious dreams—or if eyes needs must weep, Could make their tears all wonder and delight, She in her crystal vials did closely keep: If men could drink of those clear vials, 'tis said The living were not envied of the dead.

Her cave was stored with scrolls of strange device, The works of some Saturnian Archimage, Which taught the expiations at whose price Men from the Gods might win that happy age Too lightly lost, redeeming native vice; And which might quench the Earth-consuming rage Of gold and blood—till men should live and move Harmonious as the sacred stars above;

And how all things that seem untameable, Not to be checked and not to be confined, Obey the spells of Wisdom's wizard skill; Time, earth, and fire—the ocean and the wind, And all their shapes—and man's imperial will; And other scrolls whose writings did unbind The inmost lore of Love—let the profane Tremble to ask what secrets they contain.

And wondrous works of substances unknown, To which the enchantment of her father's power Had changed those ragged blocks of savage stone, Were heaped in the recesses of her bower; Carved lamps and chalices, and vials which shone In their own golden beams—each like a flower, Out of whose depth a fire-fly shakes his light Under a cypress in a starless night.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

di-versión©ochoislas

[ao3feed-larry]

Bless the Day Our Heartbeats Aligned ʚɞ Traducción

by louelsolecito

Junto a su madre, Louis seguía congelado en su sitio. Era vagamente consciente de que Doris estaba manchando su ropa con migas, pero estaba demasiado preocupado por pensar demasiado. Harry sabía ahora que era un omega. Era imposible que no lo supiera. ¿Se sentiría decepcionado? ¿Pensaría mal de Louis? ¿Y si ni siquiera recordaba a Louis? Louis contuvo el aliento cuando Harry se giró hacia él, sus ojos verdes se fijaron en el omega y lo miró con atención. Estaba acostumbrado a estar constantemente bajo la mirada de la corte, a que cada uno de sus movimientos fuera criticado y juzgado. Pero la forma en que Harry lo examinaba le ponía los pelos de punta y se le cortaba la respiración. Lentamente, Harry se inclinó ante él y miró a Louis con una expresión ilegible en sus ojos. Volvió a levantarse en toda su altura y un hoyuelo se hundió en su mejilla mientras arqueaba sus labios en una sonrisa. "Hola, Grillo".

~

O donde tras años de ausencia, el caballero Harry regresa con su mejor amigo sólo para descubrir que Louis está comprometido con otro.

Words: 9711, Chapters: 1/7, Language: Español

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: M/M

Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, The Tomlinson Family, Original Characters

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Bottom Louis Tomlinson, Top Harry Styles, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Omega Louis Tomlinson, Alpha Harry Styles, Princes & Princesses, Royal Louis Tomlinson, Prince Louis Tomlinson, Knight Harry Styles, Childhood Friends, Arranged Marriage, Sweet Louis Tomlinson, Funny Harry Styles, Soft Louis Tomlinson, Feminine Louis Tomlinson, Masturbation, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Jealous Harry, Love Triangles, pero solo un poco, Breeding, Impregnation, Knotting, Mating, Biting, Oral Sex, First Kiss, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Traducción, Español

via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/91LRoiG

[dlphantom]

☾︎ 𝕿𝖊𝖒𝖕𝖙𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓 ☽︎

WARNINGS: Smut, Kinda soft smut??, nothing too kinky. Porn without plot

Pairing: Jake Lockely x Reader, mentions of steven x reader, and marc x reader but not much.

Plot: Weekly date night with Jake turns into a long night ;)

Length: A short little oneshot :)

☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎☽︎

Thursday nights were for Jake, just like the rest of the boys, they each got a night out of the week for just us. Tonight we went to a beautiful Italian restaurant downtown with a cute café attached next-door.

There was wine, focaccia bread and all types of pastas that lingered on the tongue. Slow conversation about our week happened but nothing too important, just spending time together while we can.

But the wine especially lingered the longest.

Stumbling through the door with Jake's grip on your waist firm, you push off him to plop down on the couch longways and kick your heels off. As you sink into the couch, gazing up you find Jake's firm eyes staring down at you with lust. Taking his hat off then planting his hands on his hips he quirks a smirk down at you in a knowing sense.

knowing that the night isn't over yet and you're not nearly tired enough for bed. Subtly as you can, catching his gaze, as you push out your chest and slightly spread your legs more. Almost too fast to catch you see his eyes flicker down and back up within a millisecond, already catching onto your games.

Stalking over to you and crossing his arms over his broad pectorals, he leans down a little to make eye contact better- " can I help you cariño? "

Giggling you shake your head in response, starting your little game.

" are you sure querida?" another shake of the head.

What a little fucking tease you were

Giving a strained smile he shook his head, and before you knew it he was pinning you to the couch. His forearms next you your head, his face only inches apart from yours, breathing heavily as hot air mixed.

Staring at each other you trace his face, as he does the same to you. seconds to into a minute before he breaks the silence.

" Don't test me "

a smirk breaks onto your face, the one your were trying to hide earlier, peaking through the cracks before the dam broke. Jake lets out a noise of amusement before smashing his lips onto yours, successfully breaking the suffocating tension in the air.

Sloppily making out as tongues cross each other and saliva is swapped until you had to break for air. Gasping, he waste no time in trailing open mouthed kisses from your chin, to your neck, and finally down to your collar bone where he sucks hickey into the junction of your neck and shoulder.

Hands roam as you shudder in arousal, weathered hands tracing up and down your sides to squeeze softly at your love handles before going up to fiddle with your dress zipper.

Ah the dress, a scarlet dress with bajo collar coming down to your belly button and low hanging back that's at knee length. The boys favorite dress, yours as well when your feeling lucky.

Fingers slowly dragging the zipper down before he sits up to tug it off your body. Discarding it across the room, he sits back on his heels to take in the sight of you sprawled out on the sofa; hair tangled and flowing everywhere, body flushed, eyes wide, mouth agape, thighs pressed together in need, and to top it all off, wearing a white lace lingerie set with little bows. God the things you do to him.

Breaking him from his trance as your hands come up to push his jacket off his shoulders then starting to un button his white dress shirt. Smirking as your eyes trail his god-like body in awe, you kiss up his chest to his chin and neck where you start to suck hickies on his skin. Laying down you pull him with you to caress his back while his hand slips down to the apex of your thighs. Trailing light touches up until he touches your mound, then starts rubbing in circles over your folds, collecting your slick through the fabric.

Gasping out as hands find solace on his broad shoulders, nails leaving red marks as you grip hard onto him. Moans and whimpers leaking out of you like a broken faucet, combining with his grunts. Fingers moving the fabric out of the way as he collects your slick, smoothing it up and own your fold before rubbing tight circles on your clit. Back arching as hips buck , causing the bulge in his khaki pants to leak more precum and twitch in delight.

Before he lets you come he falls back to unbuckle his pants and get his cock out, making you whine in protest but quickly cut off when he swiftly slams into you in one go. Hitting your cervix and absolutely wrecking you. The moans you let out are higher pitched as his thrust become heavier and faster chasing his release. Jake can feel you clamping down on his cock pulling him even further along.

Kissing sloppily while scratching at his back, your toes curling as heat rises in your stomach. The heat swirling making your brain go foggy from how good he feels. Both of you connected forever indulging in mind blowing pleasure.

God was he good, not to say Steven or Marc weren't, no no no, they just weren't as rough as Jake, couldn't quite make you scream so hard that you cry cumming like Jake. Steven was more soft ,but Marc took more control, both good but not good like Jake. Now that doesn't mean you don't like sex with the other two. But when you were with Jake it almost felt emotional, very soft but hard, in the best ways.

You couldn't even think at this point, too far lost in the pleasure to see the smirk on Jakes face when he notices how far gone you are. "there you go querida, g-god you feel so good baby....fuck!" Jake can feel it building up and he can feel it in you too. Thrusting even faster he shifts slightly hitting dead on your g-spot. Your moans turn into scream and wails of pleasure as your hands ball the fabric of the couch beneath you, driving you to climax.

Clamping down hard, your eyes roll back into your skull while you cream on him, pushing him into his climax with a few more hard thrust before filing you to the brim. Both of you panting from your high, Jake carefully lays down on you, trying to not squish you while basking in the after glow.

peppering you with light kisses and words of appraisal while his cock softens inside you and cum leaks out of you at the edges. shifting slightly for comfort causes you to whine from overstimulation before he coos a you calming you down. Jake watches as you drift off to sleep before pressing a kiss to your fore head.

" you did so good my love, rest well honey"

[sissy-frydda]

PARTE 1

When I was young and was in charge of my older cousins, they dressed me like a princess, from the little pink panties to the delicate bow in my hair. A soft makeup and color on my lips, we were the three naughty little sisters.

One day, my uncle Juan came to the farm, he came from the city to visit his daughters and he found us playing nurses. I immediately felt very embarrassed and ran to change my clothes but he stopped me. He sat me on his knees and began to speak softly to me as he slid his firm, calloused hand up my legs under my skirt until he reached my panties. "Guys shouldn't wear panties", he told me. "That makes guys like other things you know?"

His right hand began to caress the soft curve of my crotch, I would have had a powerful erection if my panties had allowed it, it felt like the hands of my cousins ​​but his was firm and warm and he knew where to caress. With his left hand he pushed the hair away from my neck and I felt how his mustache stung my neck while he was ecstatic with my perfume. Then with a determined gesture, he grabbed my hips and settled me on his fly. There was something hot and hard there that he made sure I felt and it really was something big and beefy. He took my hips with his left hand and made me rub on that pillar of meat while he touched my crotch through my panties. My buttocks began to come and go and I could do nothing to escape the situation. My cousins ​​in front of me contemplated that life lesson with excitement. Then he kissed my neck and told me that I was a beautiful girl and I melted in my panties, it was an explosion of semen that I couldn't control and I immediately felt how the cock in his pants became very tense and pulsating. His growls scared me but I knew right away that he had ejaculated a lot of cum because he drenched my tail with his hot sperm. He gave Andrea, Laura and me 100 dollars. It wouldn't be the only time.

-------------

Cuando era jovencito y quedaba a cargo de mis primas mayores, ellas me vestían como una princesa, desde la bombachita rosada hasta el delicado moño en el pelo. Un maquillaje suave y color en mis labios, éramos las tres hermanitas traviesas. Cierto día, llegó mi tío Juan a la granja, venía de la ciudad a visitar a sus hijas y nos encontró jugando a las enfermeras. De inmediato sentí mucha vergüenza y corrí a cambiarme de ropa pero el me detuvo. Me sentó sobre sus rodillas y comenzo a hablarme suavemente mientras deslizaba su mano callosa y firme por mis piernas bajo mi falda hasta llegar a mi bombacha. "Los chicos no deben usar braguitas" , me dijo. "Eso hace que a los chicos le gusten otras cosas sabes?"

Su mano derecha, comenzó a acariciar la suave curva de mi entrepierna, hubiera tenido una poderosa ereccion si las bragas me lo hubieran permitido, se sentía como las manos de mis primas pero la suya era firme y caliente y sabía donde acariciar. Con su mano izquierda apartó el pelo de mi nuca y sentía como picaba su bigote en mi cuello mientras el se extasiaba con mi perfume. Luego con un gesto decidido, me sujeto de las caderas y me acomodó sobre su bragueta. Allí había algo caliente y duro que el se aseguró que yo sintiera y realmente era algo grande y fornido. Tomaba mis caderas con su mano izquierda y me hacia frotar e sobre aquel pilar de carne a la ves que me tocaba la entrepierna por sobre las bragas. Mis nalgas empezaron a ir y venir y yo nada podía hacer para escapar de la situación. Mis primas frente a mi contemplaban exitadas aquella lección de vida. Entonces el me besó la nuca y me dijo que era una hermosa chica y me derreti en las bragas, fue una explosión de semen que no pude controlar e inmediatamente sentí como el grueso miembro en su pantalón se ponía muy tenso y pulsatil. Sus gruñidos me asustaron pero enseguida supe que había eyaculado un montón de leche porque me empapo la cola con su esperma caliente. Nos regalo a Andrea, Laura y a mi, 100 dólares. No sería la única vez.

[esuemmanuel]

Carmesí.

Se había hundido en la espesura de un bosque plagado de hojas rojas, el viento le sabía a otoño y el sol a luz pasajera; gélida y ligera, caía sobre sus delgadas ropas, como un beso de neblina. Había rocío entre las ramas, haciéndolas parecer lloronas; delicadas gotas de álgido carmesí resbalaban por el orbe de sus ligeras puntas al contemplarlas. De pronto, el viento hablaba, agitándolas y arrebatándolas de tajo de las ramas moribundas de las que pendían.

Cayó una gota fría en la pálida piel del rostro del viajero, provocando en sus mejillas un tenue rojizo, el mismo que nació para sucumbir en sus trémulos labios; aire cálido brotó de sus fosas nasales, llevando consigo el aterido aliento de una mañana fría que ya comenzaba a morir en su lengua.

El deseo de encontrarla lo había llevado a ese bosque carmesí, mas, no sabía si iba a poder mirarla. Ella era escurridiza; en el viento se colaba, arrastrándose entre las hojas que el mismo arrancaba. Sílfide de bruma, de ensueños color de las amapolas; mujer de insinuaciones etéreas y caricias quiméricas; ente nacido del poeta que la perseguía y el que no recordaba cómo la había podido mirar la primera vez. Bajo el cielo que ya se transformaba en ocre, musitó unas palabras; esas primeras que esbozó en el papel cuando la pintó en su mirada la noche en la que la luna se la entregó...

“Desnuda, vas cubierta de las huellas de mis labios;

grietas que sucumben al terciopelo de tus formas...

Caminas respirando, con las puntas de tus dedos,

sobre las hojas que bailotean al compás de mi respiración...

Viento colado entre tus cabellos;

rojizos de luna llena, bajo la sangre del calor...

Ninfa de mis sueños, ven y muéstrame el valor

de lo que es amar sin perder, en el juego, el corazón”.

Crimson.

He had sunk into the thicket of a forest full of red leaves, the wind tasted of autumn and the sun of passing light; icy and soft, it fell on his thin clothes, like a kiss of mist. There was dew among the branches, making them look weeping; delicate droplets of crimson algae slid down the orb of their light tips as he gazed at them. Suddenly, the wind spoke, stirring them and snatching them from the dying branches from which they hung.

A cold drop fell on the pale skin of the traveler's face, causing a faint ruddy flush to his cheeks, the same that was born to succumb to his trembling lips; warm air gushed from his nostrils, carrying with it the chilled breath of a cold morning that was already beginning to die on his tongue.

The desire to find her had led him to that crimson forest, but he didn't know if he would be able to look at her. She was elusive; in the wind she slipped, crawling among the leaves that the wind itself plucked. A sylph of mist, of poppy-colored dreams; a woman of ethereal insinuations and chimerical caresses; an entity born of the poet who pursued her and who could not remember how he had been able to look at her the first time. Under the sky that was already turning to ochre, he muttered a few words; those first ones he sketched on paper when he painted her in his gaze the night the moon gave her to him....

"Naked, you go covered with the traces of my lips;

cracks that succumb to the velvet of your forms...

You walk breathing, with the tips of your fingers,

on the leaves that dance to the rhythm of my breath...

Wind blowing through your hair;

reddish of full moon, under the blood of heat...

Nymph of my dreams, come and show me the value

of what it is to love without losing, in the game, the heart".

— Esu Emmanuel©

[monsterlovinghours]

Okay so I've sat on this idea for like an eternity, BUT I feel like you will write it so well! Soft times with Bajo. You're in the kitchen at 3am in the estate and you've snuck snacks in past Gio that you're eating, but Bajo comes in and is like "??? what are you doing here?" and you're like "Eating snacks.... Don't tell Gio" and then offer him some to buy his silence. Which of course he accepts, and you have some soft time in the kitchen.

behold two shitposts hiding their stash from Mom

Of all the things that could be slinking in the shadows of the estate at three in the morning, Bajo didn’t expect you to be one of them, the only human of the bunch. Yet, here you were, sneaking into one of the lower kitchens mainly used by the staff with something hidden beneath your shirt. The demon paused, a curious tilt to his head, then changed course to pursue you, a small, anticipatory smile on his face. What exactly were you trying so desperately to hide?

He found you in the darkest corner, hunched over the counter, your body blocking your actions, but the tell-tale rustle confirmed just what it was you were doing. Bajo paused in the doorway for just a moment, then flicked on the lights, causing you to gasp and whirl around, pressing against the counter to hide your contraband.

“Whatcha got there, dolce?”

“Nothing.” Your reply was hasty, your body rigid, trying so hard to appear casual and failing miserably, adorably so. “Nothing at all.”

“You sure about that?” He grinned, silver teeth flashing as he took slow strides into the kitchen, delighting in the sight of you squirming, obviously caught in your subterfuge. “You wouldn’t be doing anything naughty, would you?”

“What, me? Pfft. No. What would make you think that-”

Quick as lightning, his cold fingers wrapped around your wrist, pulling your hand into view, which sported a set of fingertips coated in damning orange dust. 

“Oh. Uh. See, I can explain that.”

“You snuck Cheetos in again, didn’t you?”

Your misdeed discovered, you hung your head in shame. “Yeah.”

Bajo laughed as he released your hand, glancing behind you to see an enormous bag full to bursting with junk food and over-processed snack foods. He picked up a box of Fruit Gushers, lifting a stern eyebrow. “You know Gio forbade this stuff from the house, corazon. He’d throw a fit if he knew you’d brought all this in.”

Your head lifted, eyes narrowed shrewdly. “Name your price.”

“The pretzel sticks, two Hostess cupcakes, and half the box of Gushers.”

“Deal. Oh, wait,” you said, hurriedly sucking the Cheeto dust off your fingers before offering your now clean hand to shake. “Deal.”

Snickering, he shook your head. “Alright, alborotador, my lips are sealed. Now gimme.” 

Laughing, you slid the bag of forbidden goodies at him, hopping up onto the counter and cradling the open bag of Cheeto puffs between your thighs. “So what brings you down here at this hour of the night?”

Bajo shrugged, digging a cupcake out of the bag and hoisting himself to sit up on the counter beside you. “Sleeping is boring, and the rest of ‘em are busy doing paperwork. I was just wandering around looking for something to do, and heard the scurry of little mouse feet.” He grinned as he unwrapped the cupcakes, peeling the sheet of solidified frosting off before biting into the cake, crumbs and a tiny smear of white filling lingering at the corners of his mouth. The amount of sugar in the cake alone almost burned his tongue, and he grimaced at the cloying sweetness. “Why do you eat this garbage anyway?”

You shrugged, digging into the bag to pop a Cheeto into your mouth. “This is the stuff I craved when I was a kid, it’s less because it tastes good and more because it’s nostalgic. It’s like going back and watching dumb Saturday morning cartoons. They aren’t good, but you feel like a kid watching them again and it’s nice.”

Bajo swallowed, humming thoughtfully as he slung an arm around your shoulder, smiling when you immediately leaned into his side. “I suppose you have a point. Some of us have to visit an antique store to feel nostalgic, though. This is easier.”

The still hours before dawn melted away before the two of you, sequestered in a quiet kitchen, sharing your secret indulgences back and forth. You discovered that of the two of you, Bajo was better at catching Fruit Gushers in his mouth, and every so often you would hold a pretzel stick between your lips and encourage him to eat it, stealing a kiss when he took it from your mouth. Slowly, pale light began to flood the room, and a yawn brought your adventure winding to its end.

“Alright, sweetheart, lets get you upstairs to bed.” Bajo pulled you into his arms, cradled against his chest, smiling softly when you didn’t resist, nuzzling your face into the side of his neck. 

“What about my snacks,” you asked drowsily as he began to carry you upstairs to your room.

Bajo chuckled, brushing a kiss across your forehead. “I’ll hide them from Gio until the next time you have a craving.” You murmured something that sounded like thanks, content to drift away in his arms as he laid you in your bed. For a moment, he contemplated joining you, but decided that for now, you needed your rest. He knelt to press one final, tender kiss to your forehead, fingers stroking back through your hair, and whispering for you to sleep well, before leaving the room with a soft, if somewhat secretive, smile.

[vainilla-milk]

warrior boys listening latinamerican songs

tags: headcanons, modern au, sfw

Porco Galliard

is one of the songs he listens to the most because it makes him feel nostalgic.

about what? nothing in particular.

the verse:

"lo intento todo para ser mejor de lo que fui" ("i try everything to be better than i was")

is something he really identifies with, and one of the reasons why it is the song he listens to the most, because he always wants to prove to himself and the world what he's capable of.

Marcel Galliard

the lyrics remind him how sometimes he silently carries too many emotions without revealing them to anyone when he can't take it anymore. the music makes him cope a little more with his emotions when he feels he will collapse, then he will think about turning to his brother to be able to talk.

Bertholdt Hoover

when he listens to this song, he longs for his childhood and his late father whom he remembers with much love and affection. he misses him, and remembers how much he used to listen to that song.

he feels that it's still with him every time he decides to play it on his cellphone.

Reiner Braun

we know he's a soft and gentle teddy bear, even if his appearance seems intimidating. he really likes the lyrics where the protagonist goes on a journey to value herself instead of depending on a person who doesn't value her. listen to this song several times, even if porco teases him about it.

Colt Grice

the truth is that I see Colt singing at the top of his lungs this song when he's drunk, because he's a quiet guy when is sober, but when he's drunk, he externalizes all his emotions and energy singing until his voice is gone all the songs that are put in the player.

Zeke Jeager

i know it may be cliche, but it's a classic that no one complains about (at least i don't know anyone who doesn't enjoy this song)

it makes him remember good times from his teenage years when he talked to his music teacher xavier ksaver.

[mirabilefuturum]

no but what fun it must have been to play Elena

she's got like, five minutes of screen time, and the job consists in bursting into a house, being Tol and badass, calling someone a slut, freehanding a couple speeches in a foreign language, taking selfies behind the scenes and then falling onto a soft mat a couple times pretending to be shot and that's it

the character only has two outfits which i BET Ms Bajos just picked from her own wardrobe, like, literally why would the creators give her anything extra to wear, she's already stunning

the only costs must have been driving to the filming location and having lunch

[ochoislas]

SINO SOLO LA MÍA

Soñé que estaba muerto, como todo hombre, y temí tal sueño, aunque no fuera apenas por el dolor que pudiera embestir mi carne bajo las ablandadas lutitas. Desposeído de ti, yacía días y días solo, sabía que allá sobre mí las ramas eran oro en llamas, sueltos los vestidos de las mujeres, los hombres envejecían.

Envejecían. Y se apeñuscaban. Preguntaban la hora. Y luego lo olvidaban. Se volvían. Buscaban en la hierba. Tropezaban con una rama. Espantaban unas hojas. Niños. Y chicas. Yo sabía, que sobre mi cara, conejo y arrendajo caían en manada, cavilando cómo cruzar un baldío dejado en cueros bajo el sol. Parados en una sombra, se agazapaban.

Conejo y arrendajo, anciano, y chica, y niño, todos se movían sobre mí, soñando a plena luz. Te oí caminando por aquel campo baldío. Despierto de un salto, hallé mi viva imagen: la tumba derivó lejos, y era de noche, sentí cerca tus hombros suaves y abatidos. De mi sueño se alzaron por doquier los muertos.

No soñé yo tu muerte, sino sólo la mía.

*

BUT ONLY MINE I dreamed that I was dead, as all men do, And feared the dream, though hardly for the sake Of any thrust of pain my flesh might take Below the softening shales. Bereft of you, I lay for days and days alone, I knew Somewhere above me boughs were burning gold, And women's frocks were loose, and men grew old.

Grew old. And shrivelled. Asked the time of day. And then forgot. Turned. Looked among the grass. Tripped on a twig. Frightened some leaves away. Children. And girls. I knew, above my face, Rabbit and jay flocked, wondering how to cross An empty field stripped naked to the sun. They halted into a shadow, huddled down.

Rabbit and jay, old man, and girl, and child, All moved above me, dreaming of broad light. I heard you walking through the empty field. Startled awake, I found my living sight: The grave drifted away, and it was night, I felt your soft despondent shoulders near. Out of my dream, the dead rose everywhere.

I did not dream your death, but only mine.

James Wright

di-versión©ochoislas

[blackvelvetwriteson]

𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐑𝐎𝐑𝐒

                                              (  ~ Sero Hanta x Black Female                                                                   Reader Insert ~ )

GENRE: Smut and Fluffy Fluff!                                                                  

FANDOM: Boku No Hero Academia (My Hero Academia)

TRIGGER WARNINGS: There are only mild warnings for today; mentions of cannabis, Dubcon on the account that Sero is high, and slight dacryphilia.

SUMMARY: Sero gets jarred by a nightmare, so he smokes and watches over Reader-Chan until she wakes up. They talk a little and she soothes him back to sleep. 

AUTHOR’S NOTE: Hey there! This fic is part of my 100 followers event that I’m hosting in light of recently reaching, well, 100 followers.. I WOULD LIKE TO NOTE THAT READING THESE FICS WILL BE SOOOO MUCH BETTER IF YOU READ THEN WHILE PLAYING THE SONG!! I PROMISE, IT’S A WHOLE VIBE!! If you’d like to request a scenario, a song and/or a character, I’m MORE than welcome and open to do that! My ask box is open!  Thank you so so much for your support!

WORD COUNT: 3385

(Headers are mine, but the art inside of them are not! Please don’t steal or repost without credit!)

           “You’re not getting away this time,” was an ugly, disgusting voice that resonated in Sero’s head that, after a long series of nightmares, had him shooting up, panting softly with sweat sheening his muscular body, his arms hugging his legs to his body. It was 4:15 in the morning and he had to be up in a couple of hours, but he still couldn’t go back to sleep. He figured he’d take a day off and try to catch up on sleep that he’d been missing. He looked over at you who was sleeping peacefully in the bed. He admired everything about you for a long while, his hand caressing your face gently as his heart slowed to a healthy rate. He kissed your fawn cheek gently before he slid out of bed. Your soft breaths resonated in his mind and he smiled a little as he saw you take a deep breath and cuddle into a pillow.

“Te quiero, cariño. Duerme bien por mí, ya vuelvo. [I love you honey. Sleep well for me, I’ll be right back.]” He mumbled to you softly before he walked to your kitchen silently, adjusting his joggers a little as he ran his fingers through his hair making his bang run unruly as he leaned over the counter. As soon as he leaned forward in the dark, his head in his hands, he’d broken down. He’d been having nightmares from a previous intense mission for about a week, and this just happened to be the straw that broke the camel’s back. Soon he was a mess of tears, his palms collecting every drop as he cried into the darkness of the kitchen. His knees were weak, his body burned with want to be a “useful” hero like Bakugo or Kirishima. He’d started to slip into a fit of insecurity while you slept in innocence in the room, the comforters like waves crashing over you and hugging your body. He let out a soft shaky sigh before feeling his way around the counter to find the coffee pot. He figured he’d be awake anyways, why not make some coffee for after his smoke. He gently spooned the coffee grounds into the filter, filled the pot with water and let the coffee brew as he sighed softly. He leaned against the counter again, grunting softly before looking over at a small box he kept on the counter. He grabbed the small container and a box right beside it. He stole a lighter from beside the set and he slid it in his pocket as he rolled himself a late night/early morning blunt. It’d been awhile since he smoked, but whenever he did, it always managed to make him feel more confident in himself, made him relax, and it made him overall just more laid back. That’s why he waited for that moment when he finally broke down to smoke, and he always waited until you were asleep so you didn’t have to deal with him as his insecurities told him you would. He walked to the small pocket in your room and the living room that contained a big beautiful bay window in which the two of you often cuddled.

From the window, you had a pretty secular view of the city and city lights and the sunrises and sunsets were absolutely otherworldly. He took his place, opening the window up while looking at the late night stragglers scurry along the pavement. He licked the strip that he had left out and smoothed it against the rest of the blunt, sticking one of the ends in his mouth, taking his lighter and holding it up to the tip but resting his head against the wall/ sill instead, taking the blunt from his mouth with two fingers and a heavy sigh.   “¿Qué estoy haciendo? [What am I doing?]” He mumbled to himself with a soft sigh before shaking his head and resting one of his elbows on his knee that was raised, his fingers tangling with his hair again. “A la mierda. [Fuck it]” he mumbled out to himself as he watched himself light the blunt with squinted, teary eyes. He took a long drag out of it and ghosted the smoke holding it in as he felt his brain get a little more hazy. He stared over at you laying on the bed as he forced his high. He flashed a soft smile before starting to cough quietly. When he exhaled, there was hardly any smoke left and he even looked surprised at himself. He admired the smoldering bud in between two of his fingers before he took another drag and hummed softly, leaning his head back against the wall again as he looked outside of the window, the sky slowly turning brighter shades of purple and blue. He knew it was getting later, but for once he didn’t care. He just watched you sleep, smiling subtly with a slight reddish tint under his eyes. “Mi hermosa niña... ¿Cómo he tenido tanta suerte? [My beautiful girl… How did I get so lucky?]” he whispered to himself as he took yet another drag from his blunt, holding it in until he got lightheaded and he blew the smoke out of the window.

“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación… [Two lost angels discover salvation..]” he mumbled quietly from a song he’d remembered you playing but he couldn’t quite pinpoint from where. He was too far gone at this point, but he noticed that that one line held weight to him even though he loved the whole song. He loved the songs you played possibly because you were the one who played them and when you sang them, you matched no other; because ‘music is the purest and rawest form of affection’ he always said. You started to hum softly in your sleep, stirring under how bright the moon was before the sun came up. You sighed softly and let your eyes flutter as you watched Sero smoking in the window, his slender fingers playing in the smoke clouds that he exhaled, that happy grin on his face, his squinted eyes as he got lost in himself and his thoughts of you. You couldn’t help but to notice how the moon and soft light of the fast approaching day illuminated his skin and this made you smile as you stretched in the bed still half asleep.

“Ah, see,” you giggled softly. “I knew I smelled somethin,’” you giggled as you watched him slowly turn his head towards you. “You had another nightmare or somethin’,” you asked as you continued to lay down and cuddle your pillow. He didn’t say anything, he just nodded and sighed softly. “Aw baby,” you say softly as you sit up and stretch again, yawning and rubbing your eyes a little. “Why didn’t you just wake me up,” you ask softly as you threw your legs over the side of the bed, adjusting the shirt that hung off of your body as you made your way over to Sero on the seat of the window.

“Lo siento, [I’m sorry,]” he mumbled softly as he blew smoke out of the window. “I didn’t want to disturb you because I know you have a shift today,” he whispered softly. “I just wanted to watch you sleep,” he said quietly as he let his arm reach in front of him, the blunt half smoked in between his fingers, his elbow resting on his knee gently. You made your way over to him and gently hugged him from the side, gently pulling his head against your chest.

“You know you mad cute when you get like this right?” You giggled softly as you ran your fingers through his smooth hair. He blushed a little and hugged your waist from the side, closing his eyes and completely relaxing into you.

“Honestly, no, cariño, that’s all you,” he said softly as he felt himself get emotional again. “Can you sing me that one song… Where he says.. Something about, ‘two lost angels discover salvation,’ sometime,” he asked and your mind instantly woke up. You smiled a little at the scent of brewing coffee sneaking into your room.

“That song by Miguel? Coffee?” You chuckle softly and sway slowly as you hum softly, always open to sing to your love even if it was entirely too early and you were low-key getting a second hand high from him.

“ I wish I could paint our love… These moments and vibrant hues… Love play, turns in to gun play, And gun play turns into pillow talk… And pillow talk turns into sweet dreams… Sweet dreams turns into fucking in the morning… Fucking in the morning…” you hummed softly to him as you felt his free hand hug your arm. He was getting glassy-eyed again loving how you felt against him so early, singing to him so sweetly as you tenderly held him.

“Sí mi amor, [Yes my love,]” he whispered softly as you sung to him, his head tilting back as his eyes closed. “That’s the one…”

As you usually did, you started skipping parts in the song to ones that you liked more. He hummed softly with you and he nuzzled his head into your chest as he took another drag from his blunt and listened to you. “Old souls, we found a new religion… Now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism... Pick a star in the sky we could both say goodbye… Old souls we found a new religion, now I’m swimmin’ in that sin, that’s baptism…” You looked down at him and his almost ashed blunt and you laughed softly as you saw how adorning his gaze was and he hummed with you softly.

“Two lost angels discover salvation.. Under bright peach skies watching the sun rise…”

“Dos ángeles perdidos descubren la salvación.. Bajo brillantes cielos de melocotón viendo salir el sol…” He mumbled softly with you before putting his blunt out and standing up, his hand resting at your waist before running up his shirt that you were wearing. He kissed you gently and slowly, gently running his tongue, which to him felt like cotton, over your bottom lip before sliding it into your mouth. He bit your bottom lip and fell into a slow rhythm, gently and slowly leading you to the bed, pushing you down as soft growls left him and he ran both of his hands up your body, gripping your chest, kneading into your breasts slowly and gently as you started to grind into him slowly and subtly, both of you halfway asleep, and Sero now sensitive because of how stoned he was. He bit your lip again and tugged with his teeth, gently and slowly pulling away, kissing down your neck as your hands guided his strong hips to grind into yours. His eyes looked a little fogged over and distant from what you could see, but in all honesty, you didn’t care. You’d had a bad dream and feeling him against you was exactly what you needed; having him love you down while you quietly showed him how to take care of you while slowly improving both of your moods. The soft, crisp breeze pushed through your room through the opened window and it cooled you down as you felt Sero’s teeth against your neck. You whined softly and ran your fingers through his hair slowly, messing his hair up as his strong hands continued to knead into your chest, his eyes closing as he let out soft hums against your skin. It got to the point where you started to hurt with how rough he was being so you gently caressed the side of his head and pointed him onto how to change and help you right. “A-Ah babe, that’s just a lil too hard,” you whispered softly as you felt him lift the shirt and you shivered at the sudden cold air over your body as his hands eased up on the squeezing and pulling.

“Lo siento, mi amor, [I’m sorry my love,]” he said softly as he pressed his lips against yours, his eyes running over your nipples before he hugged you close to him and slowly and gently sucked on one, his tongue swirling slowly and gently around the bud making your back arch into him, your fingers getting lost in his hair as you let out sleepy moans, that song running on loop in your mind as he tended to you. You gently ran your fingers over his chest and under his shirt to tease his nipples while he cared for yours. He let out soft shuddering breaths against your skin as you pushed your hips into a slow grind into his. “O-Oh fuck,” he whined softly as he nipped your neck again, practically losing himself as he slowly slid one hand in your panties, one finger effortlessly pushing into your dripping cunnie making you push into Sero some more, your eyes looking gone too. You looked up at him and pulled his head closer as you arched your back into him.

“Please,” you mumbled to him softly. “Please give me another finger,” you slurred out as you clung to him and started to ride his finger. He couldn’t do anything but oblige, his fingers curling sweetly into your sweet special spot as he added another, his hand slowly thrusting them in and out sloppily as his body tingled with his high. “T-Thank you! O-Oh f-fuck thank you,” you whined out quietly, slowly maintaining a slow rhythm so you didn’t overwhelm him but you still got your pleasure. One of your hands clung to Sero, gently peppering soft kisses over his lips, your teeth catching his lip occasionally, the other hand slowly stroking him through his joggers. He trembled and let his legs give out as he leaned into you, gently kissing you back, soft hums and groans brewing in his chest as he rocked himself against your hand. He couldn’t help his shuddering breath against your soft shapely lips in between every kiss and nibble you dealt. The way his muscles flexed with every movement as he tried not to cum had you dreamy eyed and wanting more. “S-Sero p-please, You whined softly as you tried to close your thighs, the way his fingers pressing against your special spot having your back arched and breathing hitched and stuck in your throat. “P-Please… I-I want you,” you whined out softly, wanting so badly to cum while he had you impaled on his cock. He looked down and then back up at you, his eyes halfway closed and bloodshot. He stopped grinding into your hand slowly and let out a choked whine against your lips, his hands worshipping your beautiful body. “Can I… G-Go inside,” he asked softly, gently kissing your cheeks, your lips, and down your neck as he waited for your answer.  Even while he was in his intense high, he was still just as respectful as ever; even as his muscular body hung over your seemingly delicate frame that he loved so much, even panting and gasping for air as he tried not to cum. You, of course, nodded and gently kissed his forehead gently.

“Yes, Sero,” you said softly as you spread your legs for him more. “P-Please… I want to feel you inside of me,” you said softly and sleepily. “Fuck me back to sleep,” you said softly before watching his eyebrows knit a little. He pushed his boxers and sweats down, slowly and gently trying to line himself up so he didn’t hurt you when he slid inside, sucking his fingers clean as he hummed softly. “Mi amor,” he whispered softly. “I’m not ‘fucking’ you,” he said as he let out a pleasured groan, slowly sliding the tip inside, arching his back and throwing his head back as he suddenly felt the intense pleasure, wanting more, but wanting to go slow. “I’m making lo-love to y-you,” he whispered, soft curses spilling out of him as he slowly slid himself in, inch by inch, his body becoming even more tense as he slowly bottomed out inside of you. “S-So t-tight,” he whimpered softly, his pelvis catching your clit when he did bottom out inside of you, his eyes glistening with tears of overstimulation already but you didn’t mind. The way he filled you up, a small bulge forming in your tummy as he tried to adjust, you clenching down around him driving him crazy. His lips quivered as he stared at you, his mind running circles, his heart pounding against his chest enough to shake his core, frantically swallowing as he choked back his own orgasm. “I-I c-can’t move,” he whispered softly sounding like he was going to break down into tears. “I c-can’t… B-Baby!” He whined loudly as he slowly grinded his hips into yours, tilting his head back as he lost control of his tears letting them dampen his reddened, hot face. He looked down at you and watched the moonlight catch your body, not being able to rip his gaze away from you, watching how your face beautifully contorted as you grabbed at him in a desperate attempt to get closer to him, moaning out soft curses after moaning out his name, how you pressed your body into the bed. He didn’t know that he had this hold on you with such slow and subtle movements, but it was obvious he was driving you insane and he loved it all. He took in the sight in front of him, falling in love all over again as he towered over you and rolled his hips into yours slowly and rhythmically. “I-I’m so-sorry! L-Lo siento! I-I’m g-gonna c-cum,” he whined out after a fit of choked moans. “Te quiero... Te quiero tanto, cariño- [I love you, I love you so much, baby-]” he whined out, his breath hitching at the end of his sentence, his hips fucking into yours dealing hard thrusts as he tried to milk himself using the grip you had on him as leverage. “F-FUCK! C-CUMMING! I-I’m c-cumming!” He moaned out as he completely broke down into overstimulated tears. You whimpered loudly and egged him on, your legs wrapping around his waist so he could reach deeper inside of you, your eyes glazed over as you looked up at him sleepily, feeling him tremble against you with soft groans.

“Y-Yes,” you moaned out meekly, drowning happily in all of Sero’s sounds. “T-Thank you! F-Fuck! Thank you thank you thank-“ Your breathing hitched as you were filled up, your eyes rolling back into your head as you came and clenched hard around him. “F-Fuck! S-SERO,” you screamed out, scratching into him roughly as you bucked your hips riding out your high against him, tears of your own threatening to spill from your waterline. His body was twitching and trembling as he whimpered softly at your throbbing insides tightening around him over and over again. “You d-did so good for me baby,” you whimpered softly, guiding him down to your level, gently positioning him so he could lay on your chest. He was a sniffling mess, stray tears falling down his face, his eyes glistening as he looked up at you while you played in his hair and rubbed his back still cockwarming him. “My beautiful boy,” you whispered softly, gently kissing his forehead, slowly drying his cheeks of his tears as he tried to get his breathing under control. He tried to speak, but his jaw felt as heavy as a cinderblock, he could only sputter out soft mumbles as you continued to coo at him and massage his back and neck. “Go to sleep, baby. I’ll call in later,” you whisper softly, gently kissing the top of his head, humming to him softly to lull him- successfully- to sleep as the purple-ish hues of the early morning melted into soft peaches and dim golds blanketing the both of you. You hummed softly and managed to hum yourself to sleep, just moving your hips a little to get him deeper inside of you as you slept. You loved the feeling of him filling you up, the scent of the brewed coffee now completely in your room making you slip off deeper into sleep.