#Inspiring and lovely and wonderful - pretty and tender and dear!

[vargaslovinghours]

And never let you go ♥

Bonus without the overspill lighting:

[swearimnevergivingup]

DUMB LOVE, I LOVE BEING STUPID - suguru x reader

synopsis: it's hard being casual with geto suguru. he feels the same way, you just don't know it yet.

content: suguru geto/reader, blowjobs, explicit smut, friends with benefits, mild(?) angst, unrequited feelings but not really ya know (1.3k words)

a/n: just two emotionally constipated fools... just TALK to each other guys i promise it won’t kill… obviously inspired by chappell roan's song. i kinda wanna make this a series and i have a part 2 drafted already but let's see how things go! this is my first time being on tumblr in like 8 years so i'm new to everything BUT i hope you, dear reader, will enjoy!! please let me know your thoughts hehe <3 (edit: part 2 here!)

something must be deeply wrong with him, he thinks, from the sheer pleasure he derives from watching a pretty thing like you get ruined by his cock. 

you’re down on your knees for him, big doe eyes staring back at him, always so eager to please. your eyes are wet with tears that are threatening to fall, mascara smudged ever so slightly. still, he watches as you take more of him into your mouth, struggling all the while, until you’ve got his full length down your throat. 

“good girl, you’re doing so good baby,” he groans. he’s got your soft hair gathered in his fist like a makeshift ponytail, guiding your head down to take him deeper. you whine a little, but eventually relax your throat to allow him to use it as he pleases. he fucks your throat like that, so warm, so tight, listening as you gag helplessly around him.

looking down at you, suguru feels like he’s tainting something pure, something gold and untouched - though with all that you’ve done together he knows that’s hardly true at all. someone like you, looking at someone like him, of all people, like he put the very stars in the sky - he thinks he doesn’t deserve it, but he takes anyway.

from his position above you, he can see the arch of your lower back and the curve of your hips as you kneel on the floor. the room is quiet, save for his stifled moans and the lewd noises coming from your mouth as you please him. it sounds sloppy and downright nasty, and it’s music to his ears. 

you pull him out after he involuntarily gives a particularly deep thrust, gasping and blinking hard. your voice is hoarse when you look up at him again, stroking and kissing the sides of cock as you pant, “does that feel good for you?”

it's a rhetorical question, really. he smiles at you, petting your hair and bending down to give you a tender kiss on your swollen lips. when his lips meet yours, you moan, leaning in for more. so fucking cute. you smell as good as you always do and taste faintly like the strawberry cocktail you had in the bar earlier. he tells you it felt good, and to keep going, so you do - obedient as always - eagerly taking him deeper in your mouth as your hands grasp at his thighs.

he knows you’re a whore for praise, that you like it when he calls you love, or baby, when he whispers to you how good you look when you’re taking his cock in your mouth. he tells you exactly that, feeling the pleasurable vibrations all around his length when you moan in response to his words.

you’re struggling less than you were a few minutes ago - but he’s big and he knows your jaw must surely ache from trying to accommodate his size. he lets you control the pace for now, giving you time to recover from before. 

you swirl your tongue across his tip, bobbing your head and hollowing your cheeks, concentrating your efforts on his tip. his eyes squeeze shut in pleasure. your mouth feels so good, and suguru almost wonders if it’s him who should be down on his knees instead, worshipping you. 

he opens his eyes to find one of your hands in between your parted thighs, desperate to relieve some pressure, even though he just made you cum twice in a row. he should punish you for it, but god you look so hot, and he can’t exactly fault you for that. the sight of it pushes him off the edge, pleasure surging through him as he releases into your mouth. 

like a good girl, you swallow all of it. you even open your mouth and stick your tongue out to let him see, giggling as you tell him, all gone.

you might just be the death of him.

he knows you aren’t his, no, you could never be. even though you sit back and look at him with flushed cheeks and a coy smile, with something akin to adoration in your glistening eyes, he knows he could never have you. he tells himself it’ll be the last time, every single fucking time, but as much as he hates himself for it, he just can’t seem to break things off.

he’s in too deep, and he knows it full well. 

you have that kind of effect on him, making him feel things he’s never felt before. he’s found himself wishing you would stay longer, hating when you leave, but never making a move to stop you from scurrying off after your rendezvous together. he’s found himself wondering who you’ve been going on dates with for the past month, if it’s the same guy, or perhaps different guys, and if they please you better than he can. he wonders how you’re coping at your new job, if your colleagues are nice to you, and if you’re still struggling with your sleep. 

for the record, he’s self aware enough to know that it isn’t just about the sex, even though it may have started out that way. but somewhere along the way, just sex morphed into other things too, like missing you, wanting to talk to you, to laugh with you, to hold you, like he is right now as you curl up into him. it wasn’t just about the sex, even if you never stick around in his bed long enough for him to properly enjoy it anyway.

you’re probably the one thing he can’t have.

what suguru doesn’t know is that every time you gather your clothes to leave, your fingers linger for a little while longer on the door knob as you bite your lip in silent hope that he'll ask you to stay. he has no idea that you never let any other guy touch you, and that those dates are merely futile attempts at finding someone that could come close to him. your new job is going great, but you’re anxious and trying not to screw up, and you wish that maybe he could take you out for a lunch date sometimes so you get to see his face outside of the bedroom. what he doesn’t know is that all he has to do is ask, and you would be his in a heartbeat. 

you’re scared, scared of the inevitable heartbreak when he realises you’ve caught feelings and eventually cuts you off. you and him both, dancing a familiar dance, playing the same game of push and pull. it exhausts you, being around him, pretending, but you think it hurts you more to keep him away.

you know playing this dangerous game isn’t good for you, you feel the way it eats away at you when you lie awake at night wondering if the both of you could ever be something more, if he’s spending the night with someone else, or if he might be thinking of you too, and you curse yourself for allowing things to get this far. you hate to admit it, but you feel yourself wearing thinner and thinner, like a rubber band pulled taut and waiting to snap. 

you know you should end things, (try to) move on, date a nice boy who isn’t allergic to commitment, and stop having to nurse your aching heart, but you’ve never been able to say no to suguru.

no feelings attached, just sex, that’s what we both want, right?  

yeah. 

good.

he’s still idly tracing shapes on your back when you gingerly pull away from him and rise from the bed, eyes scanning across his room for your discarded clothes. you wonder if he’ll finally say something, ask you to stay, ask you to cuddle a little longer, but you know suguru, and he never does.

[provide-milk]

Ford Pines NSFW Alphabet

!Minors do not interact with!

Inspired by @roolette and their Johnny Cage NSFW Alphabet

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Didn’t know anything about aftercare at first. He seemed to be deep in thought after everytime you guys first had sex (he would still be in the middle of processing everything that happened). It annoyed you how silent he was after finishing.

“How was it?” You would ask as you scooched closer to him on the bed.

“Good.” He would mumble, staring at the ceiling (that post nut clarity getting to him).

But now He enjoys every second of you, giving you kisses all over your body and always making sure he has a towel. He spoons you from behind, giving you pecks on your neck. “That was great dear. I didn’t know you were so flexible.” He’d say in a teasing manner. “Oh shut up Ford.” You’d smile. He loved those tender moments after sex, whispering about different things and holding onto one another.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partners)

Used to hate his fingers. Emphasis on the ‘used to,’ That is before he watched the way you kiss each of his fingers and sensually put them in your mouth, while making eye contact with you. He loves how much you love them, especially how you compliment how good they feel inside you and how he’s able to find just the right spots to have you screaming his name (come on, have you seen the way that man handles a dice). As for you, he loves every part of you, but especially your thighs. When you guys are sitting down together at a restaurant, he’ll squeeze your thigh under the table, causing you to accidentally kick the person in front of you. He swears he could die a happy death between your thighs (we’ll get back to this at letter O..).

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum, basically)

He was terrified of the idea of accidentally cumming inside you, always making sure to wear a condom. But one day he finally gave into your pleas. “Ford, please. I’m on the pill. It’ll be fine.” He sighed, “I suppose we can try it one time.” After that he was addicted to it. Always begging to cum inside you and making sure to fuck every last bit of it inside you. Sometimes he’d pull out and watch it drip out of you, forcing it back inside with his fingers. It felt like he was claiming you as his own which he loved the feeling of. That you were his and his only.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Secretly loves the age gap (much to his chagrin). Something about a pretty, young thing like you being head over heels for him only added to his ego. He’d ask you, “Why don’t you date guys your own age?” “Because they can’t do the things you do to me.” He loved hearing your answers. Once his discomfort about the age difference goes away, he’s bragging about you constantly. You feel like a prize to him that he needs to show off. During a rough session, the words, “You perverted old man. You like fucking me, knowing that I’m half your age.” You could feel Ford’s dick twitch inside you. “Did you actually like it when I said that?” You’d ask after. “Let’s talk about something else…” He’d respond, avoiding eye-contact with you.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not experienced, basically a virgin which shocked you to no end . But man, does he learn fast. He observes exactly what gets you going and writes it down in a journal (for research only of course..). Starts off shy at first, constantly looking for reassurance that he’s doing a good job, but once he’s got it down he quickly becomes more confident and a little bit cocky too. The fact he can make you squirt now is still a high he hasn’t come down from. You start to wonder where that innocent man went when he’s hitting all the right spots, making you scream out his name.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

He absolutely loves cowgirl. His back sometimes hurts after hours of pouring over his journals. Being able to lay back and watch your erotic expressions while you take the lead turns him on to no end. He’d hold onto your waist, his fingers almost leaving six bruises on your torso, thrusting into you once you started losing momentum, loving the way you threw your head back and let out a loud moan. Once while cleaning, you found a detailed drawing in his notebook of you naked, riding him, your face twisted in pleasure. You flipped the pages to see nothing but similar content, but in other positions with little notes on what he noticed turned you on the most during your session.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Not a big fan of jokes in bed, thinks you’re laughing at him if you start to giggle at a joke that comes to your mind. One way to get him to be rougher with you is to tell him a joke while you guys are going at it. Will immediately manhandle you and start fucking you into oblivion until you completely forget what you even said. Will make sure to keep a serious face even if he does find it funny. He finds that it ruins the mood. “Don’t say stuff like that while we’re doing this.” He’d grumble. “Or else what?” With a response like that you were definitely willing to not be able to walk right for the next few days.

H = Hair (How well-groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t shave unless you ask him to, which he doesn’t very often because he knows you love his happy trail. He argues shaving takes too much time away from his research. Doesn’t mind if you don’t shave either, he couldn’t care less. During the beginning of your relationship, if he wanted to have sex and you didn’t shave you would feel slightly uncomfortable about it, telling him awkwardly. Once you got the reply, “You think that’s gonna stop me?”, the embarrassment quickly went away.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect.)

Things can get rough with Ford, but he still makes sure to treat you like a goddess. Giving you kisses all over your body and praising you the whole time. “Despite all the dimensions I’ve been in, you by far are the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen.” Somedays, he just wants to be as slow and tender with you as possible, fully enjoying just how much of a safespace you’ve become to him. During times like those he loves missionary so he can be as close to you as possible and indulge in every one of your lustful expressions.

J = Jack off (Masturbation Headcanon)

Prefers not to and would rather just have you get him off instead. But sometimes, as he’s looking through the erotic art that he’s drawn of you, while he’s alone in the lab, he can’t help it. He definitely wouldn’t tell you unless you asked and he would get very embarrassed by his answer.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

He has definitely asked you if you could cosplay as one of his favorite science fiction, fantasy, or Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons characters. For his birthday you decided to surprise him, dressed as an elven princess with the gown and all. His jaw basically dropped the moment he saw you waiting for him in your guys’ shared bed. It was like his college wet dreams came true in that moment and he was on you in almost seconds.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

His desk has become one of the most common place that Ford fucks you.It feels all so spontaneous and somewhat rebellious each time. You’ll be sitting on his lap in his chair and suddenly you’re getting manhandled onto the desk, with him shoving everything to the side to make space for you. If he’s feeling particularly rough, he’ll bend you over the desk. Only negative is that now Ford has difficulty focusing at times at his desk because that’s all his mind is thinking of. But Ford does love how intimate it gets when you both are in your shared bed. It would have to be a tie for him.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Anything you do. Could be something entirely random and immediately he’s turned on and ready to go. Come on, here’s a man who hasn’t been touched hardly at all his whole life. Once you come into his life and become physical with him there’s no going back. A slight brush of the hands and he’s grabbing it, whispering in your ear all the dirty things he wants to do to you. Sometimes you’ll be doing something like liking the cream off your lips from a cake or bending over to grab something and Ford is making his way over to whisper something absolutely obscene in your ear, causing you both to start getting handsy with one another immediately.

N = No (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Not a fan of extreme bdsm. You’ve asked him to slap you before but you decided that it would only be something you can dream about when you saw how uncomfortable he looked at the thought. Sure, he’s down for light bdsm, like tying you up, maybe calling you a few names (depends on how he’s feeling), spanking, and being a bit rougher than usual. But things such as knife play are a big no to him, even though he does like the taste of blood… He would just be too worried that he was going to hurt you in a negative way or go too far.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It is very rare for Ford to turn down a blowjob. He especially loves to cumming all over your face and tries to memorize the sight to draw later. But man, could he spend hours between your thighs. This man eats you out like he’s starving. He loves to hear the sounds you make which rile him up even more so. It took him a little bit to get the gist of it, but after some practice (which you were more than happy to teach him how) he became a pro at it. When you pull at his hair and squeeze your thighs tight around his face he swears he could cum right there and sometimes he has.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually it starts off slow and sensual. With soft kisses and loving compliments. But somehow it tends to get rough halfway through. Whether it be a slight comment you make or his possessive side kicking in, he can get lost in the moment and the next thing you know you feel like you just ran a full marathon. But you love it, watching his primal instincts kick in and his uptight self disappearing.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

You've had many quickies in his lab before to the point it has become a weekly occurrence or even more sometimes. He definitely enjoys them and it’s a great way for him to let off steam when he’s been at his work for hours straight.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

As someone who has spent decades traveling between multiple dimensions, of course he’s down to do some risky things. At first he was pretty nervous. “Are you sure this is a good idea, love?” He’d ask, looking around nervously. But once his confidence in sex grew, so did his confidence in experimenting. It was even his idea to have sex in the Stanmobile once when Stan gave him the keys to get some groceries (of course this is a secret the two of you planned on dying with).

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

In the beginning, he did not last very long. Sometimes cumming just by pleasuring you without even getting touched. But this grew with time and for someone at his age, you were surprised by how much of a sex drive this man has. You guys have been able to go at it for a couple of hours before. You both are usually willing to go a few rounds if you’re doing it in bed.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

You decided to bring toys into the bedroom one day and Ford was not much of a fan. At a certain point he just threw the toy to the side. “Ford! What are you doing? I paid good money for that?” “I’d rather be the one touching you.” He grumbled. It hurts his self esteem to watch you get pleasured by something that isn’t directly him. But he didn’t mind the handcuffs you bought. Whether that be you or him being handcuffed it doesn’t matter to him (which you think has something to do with Bill changing him up).

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

Can be a tease. Sometimes you’ll just be minding your own business and Ford will come up to you and whisper something dirty in your ear and tell you all the things he plans on doing to you. But then he’ll get so occupied in his work that he’ll forget what he even said. “So Ford… About what you said in the kitchen..” You said seductively. “What did I say?” He’d asked confused, his eyes not leaving his journal as he writes. “Nevermind..” “Dear?” “I said nevermind..” He’d just look at you confused before going back to his writing.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Definitely vocal, lots of moaning and grunting from him, as well as dirty talk. He tries to keep it down, but when you’re riding him or sucking him off it’s nearly impossible for him not to make noises, even if he’s biting his lip to stop himself. He even moans while eating you out which only adds to the pleasure. He whines every now and then and looks mortified each time. You make sure to tease him after which he responds by pretending not to know what you’re talking about. You both can be pretty loud which is why you’re thankful that most of the sex you have is away in his lab.

W = Wild Card (A random headcanon for the character)

You were surprised by just how possessive he is. He loves to mark you with hidden bite marks and hickeys, loving when they peak out every now and then. If anyone flirts with you or stares at you in public, he will pull you by the waist closer to you, a frown on his face and that’s when you know you’re gonna be up for a long night. You bought a necklace with his name on it and he gets hard just thinking about you wearing it.

X = X-ray (Let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

When it comes to length, he’s average size. But he makes up for it in girth and the slight angle to it which hits just the right spots. You didn’t know if you could fit him all in your mouth when you first saw it. As for the color, the tip is the same color as his nose.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

As I’ve said before, anything you do can turn him on, meaning that he’s down to have sex most of the time. This of course was unexpected to you and the seemingly innocent facade he had at the beginning has been completely shed and now he’s pretty vocal when he wants to fuck, which is pretty frequently. You swear that the first time you guys kissed is when you opened the floodgates and there was no going back after that. Of course, if you are not in the mood he will respect that.

Z = Zzz (How quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Takes him a bit to fall asleep because he struggles with insomnia. Waits for you to fall asleep first before he can fully relax. He’ll play with your hair as you drift off and kiss the top of your head. Has a habit of holding onto you tight to the point that sometimes you can hardly move, this due to his fear of something happening to you that he feels the need to protect you even in his sleep. Ford’s a pretty light sleeper, so if you do move he will feel it and wake up pretty quickly.

[yourfavoriteabomination]

Lady arachnid's favorite human needs comfort

Monster fdom/human msub dynamic, established relationship, short fluff piece

Notes: First time writing anything monster related and wrote this while sick so pls bear with me. This was originally going to be a smut piece but decided against it since a lot of people seem to need comfort lately. I hope this helps 🖤💚💜 if anyone wants an 18+ version of this, let me know :D this is a fantasy Forgotten Realms type of setting btw, should prolly mention that.

Special thank you to the love of my life for being my inspiration for everything I write. And thank you sososososo much @thecoldgrasp for proofreading and helping me with needed edits. Check out his blog, he's a wonderful human and a dear friend.

A record plays lovely music in the background of the lady arachnid’s dwelling, the owner spotted hanging from her comfy web on the ceiling reading a book. She has a feeling that her favorite human will be around soon, if it’s not wishful thinking. Chuckling at her book, a light gasp lights up her face when she hears a knock at the door, the same knock her favorite human always does just for her. Shooting a web at the doorknob, she unlocks and pulls the door open for him. She puts her book down and looks down at him from above with all her pretty eyes bright with glee. “Good morning, sweetheart!”

A small smile fades from his beautiful face into resigned doubt, the blush of flattery still coloring his pretty cheeks pink. He timidly hangs his head low with hunched shoulders, approaching her with an air of melancholy. His voice is barely heard above the music, “M-morning love.”

She slowly lowers herself from her web, “What’s wrong, dear heart?”

He chuckles grimly. “I-is it that obv-vious?”

“Your mind does have a tendency to be overly active quite a bit of the time. What plagues you?” He hesitates, having trouble finding the words, his quivering lips vaguely testing out a bunch of words that don’t feel right and never make it out loud except, “I-it’s… it’s all… it’s too much. Everyth-thing’s too much.” He buries his face in his hands, overcome with shame and anxiety.

That’s all she needs to hear as she approaches him with a frame that towers over his. She opens 3 sets of arms for a big hug, holding him close to her chest as they both melt in each other’s warmth. He sinks into the rhythm of her heartbeat against his ears, letting her love and care make all the internal noise lower its volume.

“You need not speak, but I must know if someone else caused this or if this is a conflict solely of the mind.”

“Nonono, d-darling, this is n-no one else’s doing. My m-mind is just… overactive, like you said.” 

“Are you sure? You know what I’ll do to anyone who dares hurt you in ANY way.” Her voice turns cold and threatening at the sheer thought of it. She can already hear the sounds of the screams of any man who would have the audacity to touch a single hair on his head as she plants a tender kiss on his forehead.

He smiles and blushes a bit with a light laugh, remembering the last time some poor soul uttered a rude word his way in her presence. “Just pick a man and their life is yours. But for now…” he yelps as her arms scoop him up off the floor, walking over to the couch to sit down so he can rest on her lap, the plushness of her thighs being the perfect cushion as he lays his head on her chest once more. 

He wraps his arms around her, clinging to her like a lifeline when his content turns into light sobs. The weight of his thoughts break the dam in his eyes, finally letting the tears flow as one hand strokes his hair, another cradles his cheek, another rubs circles on his back with the remaining hands holding all his pieces together while he falls apart. She rests her cheek atop his shaking head, swiping the tears from his cheek with a thumb, slightly rocking back and forth. 

“It’s alright, my love, you’re safe. Everything is okay, I’m right here, I’ll protect you. The weight of your thoughts is too heavy for one to bear, allow me to carry some of it with you. I’ll always take care of you, darling.” 

He lifts his head to gaze into her beautiful eyes filled with adoration and soft yearning that melts away his remaining worries. Her warm smile tugs the corners of his lips into a weak smile, closing his eyes to accept each kiss she bestows upon every tear on his face. 

He looks up at her with wide, devoted but doubtful eyes. “What d-did I ever do t… to deserve you?”

“My dear heart…” She holds his head back into her chest, putting all the love and comfort she can muster into a kiss on the crown of his pretty head. “Every moment with you is a gift, you need only exist to be worthy of me." She continues on twirling tendrils of his silken locks around her fingers. "You have the mind of a warrior, which means some days, your mind is in constant battle against your inner demons. Sometimes you fight for so long on your own that you feel your strength has diminished, despite having won so many wars before this one. But you are the strongest man I have ever known. If I could, I’d stick a small version of myself in your mind to bind all your demons in my web and keep them at my mercy and under my care. No matter how mean your thoughts can be, I will love every part of you no matter how much it hurts. From your very first act of kindness, you are already worth more than all the gold this world could ever possibly carry.” He whimpers, burying himself deeper into her chest and holding her tight as more soft sobs shudder his shoulders. 

“No other mind can find humor in my jests as you do, or touch me as you do, or serve me as you do.” She plants another tender kiss on his hair.

“No other mind can read me as well as you do or find solutions to problems as you do or create entire worlds and dreams to explore as you do.” She tilts her head to press her lips against his temple.

“You always manage to find new ways to enrich my life and the lives of the people around you by being you as you are.” She shifts to the other side of his head to kiss his other temple before lifting his chin up with a finger. Her smile turns playful as she takes a hold of his face and showers him with kisses, giggling a bit at his giggles as his smile gets bigger and bigger with each kiss. 

“Wait st- you’re so- ahh!!” They’re both in a giggle fit as her kisses start to slow down, placing her final two careful kisses, one on each eyelid.

Her face beams with pure joy especially at the sight of her pretty boy finally adorning his gorgeous smile that makes her heart skip a beat and sends butterflies erupting in her stomach. “With the eyes of a doe…”

She glides a finger teasingly along his lips, his mouth suddenly going dry. “The lips of an angel.”

His chest rumbles against another hand of hers in a rising drum beat. “The heart of a shaman, larger and richer than any man made material.”

She brings his hand to her lips, kissing every knuckle and every finger, no callous left behind without love. “The talented and creative hands of a smith.”

She places his hand on her heart looking deeply into his eyes. “No amount of words in any language could ever come close to describing the depth of your worth and meaning, let alone reasoning for my undying love for you. You are not only my toy, but my lover and my best friend as well. Every moment spent with you is a gift I never thought I’d have the privilege to receive. Come what may, we'll get through it together."

Her words are a warm weighted blanket around him as he plants kisses everywhere he can reach on her. Every hand and arm, on her chest, craning his neck to reach her cheeks. His hands explore the lustrous skin on her back from under her shirt and luxuriating in the softness of her belly, worshipping every line and curve on her with his fingertips. He nuzzles against her soft lovely breasts, looking up at her with unrivaled veneration for her, forever grateful for everything she is and everything she does. 

She starts to hum the gentle ballad playing from the record, the deep vibration singing him into peaceful slumber, smiling as she watches his eyes flutter shut. “Good boy. Sweet dreams, my precious human,” she coos with a final kiss to the top of his head.

[lxmelle]

Okay since we're in the satosugu-mode what it seems like 24/7 I wanted to bring to your attention the album Chronicle by Fujifabric.

Gege had authors note in chapter 267 that the story is straight up like Chronicle:

It was also the one where this new cover art was born mirroring the Chronicle album cover and Gojo was set in the spot of lead singer who died on December 24.

But that's beside the point, so I listened to that album. It's a banger and with Google translate looked at the lyrics, and oh my god... its straight up the yearning album hiked up to 2000%. All about the loss of a lover, and pretty gay if the translation was right.

So, just wanted to bring you that little bit of the lore I hold close and dear to my heart.

Gege, we know you're a satosugu shipper just like us!

YES! Ahhh thank you for promoting me to write on this.

I noticed this too. And the lead singer? His life was rather like Gojo’s was in a way. I wonder if Gege was inspired. Nanami’s character song was also by them if I’m not mistaken.

The lead singer was really a talented musician and lyricist. As I understand it, he played multiple musical instruments. And he also often sang about a young love he lost <- one of the reasons his music was popular. His lyrics were said to touch the hearts of those who knew the pains of growing up and grief of youth. There were apparently hints of him having a shared dream that he pursued apart from someone he lost & yearned for.

Shimura also apparently loved sweets in particular. The other similarity was as you pointed out: His death date being 24th December. His age was also 29. I think subtly, music being a passion that he tirelessly pursued (it’s possible that he died to a cause related to overwork) also lines up with Gojo...

You’re so right that many songs capture Gojo and the satosugu vibe. I had some screenshots from when I was obsessively going over it (so I might repost with it later!) but I reflected on it with someone and pretty much got blanked, so I thought I was just delulu...

We can be delulu together, right? Haha! Just off the top of my head, I remember that I liked Baumkuchen too in that I think it captures a part of Gojo’s tender heart and why he didn’t chase after Geto - he also didn’t want to face a more forceful rejection.

Also, perhaps we don’t see it discussed much on X/Twitter because there was some criticism in the Japanese sphere about how some people thought have was disrespectful towards Masahiko Shimura’s death with his Author’s Note and drawing, even if it was a tribute to the band and Shimura’s life. I prefer to take it in good faith but... you know... it can be a delicate matter for some I guess.

I also like that Gege depicted Gojo with a bloodhound.

Just going to add a screengrab from my X/Twitter:

I really think we ought to talk about it more! Thanks for bringing up such a quality 👌🏼 subject!!

[depraveddame]

Ineffable Kinktober, Day 2: Virginity 🌹✨

“Aziraphale…”

A tender, delicate newborn lamb, struggling to get to its ungainly feet with a determination that will only get stronger as it grows; that’s what Crowley puts Aziraphale in mind of, spread under him as silky and soft and as open as an unfurling, dewy centered lily, brow knitted in stubborn concentration as he tries to take Aziraphale’s cock, his body unused to this new intrusion of its kind but rocking towards it in spite of the overwhelming pressure and stretch.

“Breathe, Crowley; don’t push yourself, sweet thing, just relax. You are doing so well, so very well, my dear,” Aziraphale coos as he himself opposes his own corporation’s desires, fighting not to ruthlessly plunge into the impossibly tight warmth he’s splitting open for the first time, battling to keep hold of himself and to apply restraint, but it’s immensely difficult. Crowley wanting him so desperately is an inebriant unlike any Aziraphale has imbibed, which for a hedonist like himself is saying quite a lot indeed, and the slick, welcoming heat of his virginal cunt sucking Aziraphale inside despite what he knows must be at least a little pain is indescribable. He might even dare to compare it to what Heaven ought to be, in theory— warm, dizzyingly comforting and somewhere you want to return over and over and over— not the icy halls devoid of joy and pleasure.

“But I,” Crowley sucks in a breath almost petulantly through gritted teeth as he rolls his hips further, whimpering as Aziraphale sinks into him deeper— he’s nearly fully inside, now, almost engulfed in the demon, and Aziraphale can’t help but shake with the sublimity of the pleasure and the urge to fuck, to breed, “I want it— want you, angel, f-fuck, waited too long, waited so long for this.”

“I know,” Aziraphale groans as the fluttering contractions around him ebb and flow, as he finally bottoms out and catches the cry the action inspires with his mouth, soothingly kissing Crowley through it as he settles into him, as their bodies at last become flush with one another, “you waited for so long, and you kept this lovely, pretty cunt so tight for me, didn’t you,” he withdraws minutely before sheathing himself again, repeating the gentle range of lotion agonizingly slowly until Crowley’s brow finally twists into something more pleased than uncomfortable, “you spent so long, aching for me and for this, saving it for me and me alone.”

Crowley nods as his undulating, serpentine grinding grows more lissome, more fluid, and Aziraphale looks down to see his cock shining with the demon’s wetness disappearing into his swollen, glistening cunt, catching the low light they’re bathed and making his tongue jealous, but he can hardly dwell on that as Crowley’s previously hesitant, grappling attempts to open for Aziraphale grow more confident and hungry, and within minutes he’s fucking himself onto Aziraphale’s cock beautifully, his clever hips and waist already having memorized the series of movements needed to smoothly take cock and to take it well.

“Slow down, greedy thing,” Aziraphale’s hands drift down from cradling Crowley’s shoulders to latch onto the slender waist that’s haunted his dreams and shameful late night endeavors for millennia, “going to make me come far too soon, my darling— look how swiftly you’ve opened up for me, how perfectly you’re taking me— have you practiced, dove,” he can’t help it; against good sense, Aziraphale starts thrusting with more force and speed, but the burst of Crowley’s breathless moan and the squeeze of his cunt encourages his increasingly vigorous pace, “I wonder how many helpless nights you spent filling yourself with whatever you could find, when your lovely long fingers weren’t enough—“

“O-oh, f-fuck,” Crowley whimpers as he does as he’s told and slows his frantically rocking hips, but only slightly, seemingly unable to completely stop himself, “fuck, m’fingers are b-bloody useless compared to this,” his fully ophidian eyes lock onto Aziraphale’s, wide and vulnerable and breathtaking in their glittering splendor, “was made for your cock, angel, all of m-me was made f-for you,” Aziraphale’s head falls forward as what feels like very deliberate clenching hugs his cock, his hips faltering in the face of the euphoric constriction, “so you’d b-better t-take what’s yoursss, and make up for the c-cccenturies my cunt has been waiting for you to claim it.”

Aziraphale could not describe the rest of that first night to anyone in any terms resembling coherency, not after those flammable words ensnared his entire being and caught fire within, igniting what’s always been there and what he’s always known to be true, smoldering as embers in the pit of his stomach and tingling tinder in his veins. All he knows for certain is that he did as Crowley bid him to do— he claimed him over and over and in as many ways as they could manage, until they both could no longer find the strength to keep going despite their tireless joined need of more—but they have the rest of time for that.

@quefish77

[itsnaturallyshaye]

Dear Lavender,

When I was scared, your soothing aroma enveloped me, calming my frazzled nerves and transporting me to a state of serenity. Your presence came into my life like a warm sunrise, illuminating the darkness and guiding me toward a brighter horizon. As I navigated the treacherous landscape of my own heart, you were there, a constant companion, offering comfort and solace.

You arrived at a time when I was shedding my old self, embracing new beginnings, and stepping into the unknown. Your gentle touch helped me gather the fragments of my shattered heart, and your tender stems wrapped around me like a soothing balm, holding me together as I healed. Purple, my favorite color, became a symbol of our bond, a reminder of the beauty and tranquility you brought into my life.

As I learned about flowers, I discovered that you were more than just a pretty face – you were my medicine, my confidante, my guiding light. You listened like a mother comforting their child, offering words of wisdom and reassurance when I needed it most. You gave me the strength to advocate for myself, to put my needs first, and to prioritize my own healing. Your wisdom was like a grandmother's gentle guidance, offering me valuable lessons and insights that helped me navigate life's challenges.

Lavender, I honor you through all my actions, thoughts, and being. You have taught me to be more compassionate toward myself, to create space for growth, and to cultivate serenity in the face of adversity. You have shown me that even in darkness, there is always beauty to be found, and that with your presence, I can face any challenge that comes my way. You are a blessing, a reminder of the beauty and wonder that surrounds me, and a symbol of the transformative power of nature.

Thank you for being my rock, my comfort, and my guiding light. I will continue to cherish and honor you, dear Lavender, and to allow your gentle spirit to inspire and uplift me on my journey.

With love and gratitude,

Shaye

[astrxlfinale]

"It seems a little ..." Oh she's looking for a good way to say this, really, but upon comparing weapons to Caelus it grows gradually harder to force back down that tender laugh of hers, polearm up against bat in comparison; " ... corny to use a bat to fight monsters, it's like that game of whack-a-mole ! Do you like Bop them ?"

Guinaifen knows his strength, at least portions of it as there have been tales of his feats and what might he has shown in fights that's gone way over her head. But, she has to admit, the thought of him going after big, scary monsters with a bat is a humoring image. Does the marastruck fear the mighty bat? Maybe. In terms of bopping monsters, however, she really didn't have anything to say. It wasn't as if she had developed a rather offensive and striking style. She smacked the monsters that wanted to take a bite out of her, and if found in a pinch she's throw some stashed away firecrackers at them.

"How do you use it?" She'd ask curiously, allowing her own weapon to vanish from her hand. In return hands would reunite on her back, leaning over to inspect it. Not one to play around with bats, Guinaifen had never even held one.

Gazing up at Caelus from her hunched over lean, a cheeky smile appeared; " ~ cooooould you teach me how to hold a bat ? I've never held one ! I think I'd look pretty awesome with one, don't you think?"

"A little what?"

Did she know that the bat listens to such conversations? Wholly allowing its emotional well being to hinge upon these very words? The fact alone they can find themselves falling into a casual line of conversation, fresh amidst the rotting leaves and the golden haze of Abundance's end, things were going pretty damn well.

Even the Mara struck need a hilarious or inconceivable sight for their final hour.

Caelus's features were quirked into a sense of amusement, a touch leaned in, drinking in the way her features perked into a measure of thought. This in itself was so beautifully endearing, the mere need to sigh wistfully at how damn cute she could be barely resisted! With how easy it was to distract or alter the floor of her conversation, appearances have to be kept!

Corny.

....

Ah, so the advent of emotional damage was inevitable for his dear weapon. If the curio could move in response (like it does in Penacony), it would've shrunk back due to the sting behind such words!

"First off." He mentions, giving an abrupt point and loving prod to the warmth of her cheek. "It'll remember that. The art of bopping as you aptly put it has been a try and true method since the caveman days!" Whether the Trailblazer is aware of what he's insinuating about himself is up in the air. Simply embracing this curiosity of her's was a journey worth diving into, as part of him gets it, life gains a particular set of shades upon the Xianzhou.

Underneath the sanctity of The Hunt, of the glory of the Cloud Knights and no shortage of martial artists, there had to be a form of wonder for the success of an art contently wading through the undisciplined channel. Weaponry, their usage and even the philosophies behind each one held their measure of enrichment here, similar to the perceived grounds of where they were veritable extensions of not only the body, but the mind to the skill. Stances, poise, dignity, and the sheer realm of execution involving multiple styles and unique variations either to mindset or bodily constitution, there was a wellspring of time devoted to it.

Jing Yuan's protegee was living proof of that. The art of drawing blades into a divine state of mentally harnessed and wielded promoted that as truth, and in kind, a lethal flash of inspiration for others to reach that point.

Aligning the bat with the lean in of her figure comes as second nature, allowing the ornate design and paths to be unveiled upon it, hints of steam freshly spilling from it's grooves as a lax grip carries it along. "As simple as it looks, catch your target before your eyes or senses, then proceed to lash it as the best kinda skull cracker. It's a lil different than using it for the sport it's based on." Did that even make sense? He'd have to contemplate that later, for that sight of her immersed in the touch of his renewed history had him.. well.. Touched.

He'd have to really run the humble beginnings of his awakening to fighting a Doomsday Beast to her sometime.

The bigger priority holds in that question as he makes a motion for her hand, to prompt her to perk up and offer those elegantly long limbs for the upcoming example. Grasp the bat, seize a hold as if it was the influence of carnage such a blunt instrument it truly was.

....

Maybe that inner sanctum of Destruction that flows with him needs to calm down.

All the same? Once his hand and Guinaifen's are situated on the curio, he doesn't hesitate to lean close, body to body, both of their hands holding the weapon skyward as his hand cups tenderly over her's. It allows for their grip to become firm. "Now if you want to be cool with it, this centers on applying a little bit of yourself, your force to the swing. Especially with my lil number. Say if we did it like this."

For an instant would that flow of Destruction vibrantly transmit from his palm, ignited from that spark as it'd wash over the stalwart nature of her own hand, harmless in nature to someone so beloved to Caelus. It'd assist itself as a bolstering factor, allowing for the weapon they wield to soak in the thriving potential of Path power. Within moments that once obsidian foundation hums with life, causing the bat to shiver as it gradually sparks with the illumination of his power. A cerulean sheen washes over pridefully across its expanse, allowing that 'bopper' to become both an extension of will and the bane of countless foes.

"Channel your frustrations, your aim, your strength and treat 'em like a watermelon on the beach." The imagery was clear and to the point. The martial finesse that dignified violence was void, for this was a simple and to the point measure, treating their foes to the brutality of nature itself. For many, it calls to a primal part of the soul.

....

Remembering how all of this even started, a lively, base rich chuckle followed from him as they leaned shoulder to cheek.

"Wasn't this corny to you at the start? Or do you plan on making a new definition come to be when it's in your hands?"

If Caelus were to be honest with himself? Picturing her in a similar position, with wild, determined eyes and allowing this Curio to sing the very force of her flames into this lethal model, there was a measure of attraction that made that heart of his shudder and beat with joy. She'd look like the prime definition of badass.

@avaere

[itsjuneofallthings]

dear yuletide writer, 

This is my second yuletide and I'm still as lost what to put in a letter as I was last year, but it didn't stop me then either!

So, just let me tell you: 

Thank you so much for writing for me!

I hope this letter helps to spark some inspiration and  you'll have the utmost fun writing and please, don’t just write for me! It’s first and foremost for you and I’m just a happy beneficiary!

This being said, let’s get started: 

Likes: 

M/M Pairings (But I don’t mind and also like good written M/F Pairings, or M/M/F)

Friendships

Found Family Dynamics

Soulmate-AUs

Hurt/Comfort (dealing with PTSD, trauma, phobics, you name it, and being taken care of, getting help and being loved) 

Slow Burn

Smut (including, blowjobs, handjobs, analsex, fingering, etc, just mind the dnws please :))

Porn with Plot

Angst

Fluff

Happy Endings

Cuddling

Tender Touches (holding the neck, caressing the cheek/lip, hand in hair)

kisses 

getting together

first times

DNW: 

A/B/O Dynamics

Rape/Non-Con

Incest

BDSM

Dom/Sub

Daddy-Kink

Underage

Abuse of animals

Bloodplay

Watersports

Impact Play

de-aging

humiliation

vampires/werwolves AU

reader-insert

My beloved fandoms are

The Hurog-Series

Seriously, I LOVE THE BOOKS!

Oreg got me after his first sentence and I kept falling deeper and deeper for him. 

I love his banter, his wit and his power, and I love that he, as the probably most powerful mage walking around, still has boundaries. 

I love his and Wardwicks dynamics, the friendship, love and trust they share and of course I love Wardwick, our little dumb looking hero with heart of gold and caring nature. 

I also really, really love Tisala because she is a wonderful, loving person and a fierce badass and she wouldn’t hesitate to put Ward back in his place if she had to. 

That being said:

I’d love to read something about Oreg being taken care of, I’m sure he still suffers from plenty of PTSD and he deserves hugs and love and soft strokes through his hair. 

Maybe, if you’d also like, a polyamourus relationship between the three of them, maybe just deep and reassuring friendship moments between the dragon and the hurogmeten. 

But there is also Seleg! And so much that happened between them and- there are so many things to explore and so many stories to tell! 

I'm already excited! 

Anyway, I’ll be happy! 

A Quiet Place

These movies. 

THESE MOVIES. 

I love the world, the always luring danger, the silence, the smallest sounds are doom, the atmosphere. 

I love Regan and I love Emmett and I love Regan and Emmett (But NOT as a romantic couple! This is really, really DNW!)

I love their dynamics, the speech barriers, the taking care, the father/daughter-big brother/little sister vibes

To be honest, I have no specific prompt, I’d just love to read some fics of them.

(okay, while I’m writing, maybe ASL lessons? Their own language? Gift giving? Taking care of emmetts wound (Not in a weird sexual way)? the fallout after the radio station? I don’t- I just- you know? You know. 

Olympus has fallen (Movies)

Mike Banning is a walking disaster and I love him for that. 

he and his (imho) boyfriend are kinda doomed from the start (how good can something run, when it is your job to literally take a bullet for your husband?) but they make it work, while screaming “DRAMA” and running from terrorists. 

Again, I guess, no prompts for this fandom, too?, but I don’t (really don’t) mind canon typical violence and speech. 

I’m pretty sure someone REALLY needs to start to look after Mike before he burns out (wouldn’t that be a lovely task for our beloved president asher?) So yes, he also deserves some comfort (and to be honest: therapy).

That being said, also Ben deserves his PTSD outburst, his nightterrors after nearly being killed by terrorist (twice!) and his fears and panic attacks being take care of (and therapy) 

But this doesn’t have to be a romantic relationship, great friendships are also this: great.

Maybe they didn’t even like each other at the beginning? (Mike can be bossy, to be fair) ;)

Chernobyl

My beloved. 

Boris and Valerie have written hurt, no comfort wide across their lovely faces in big, bolt letters but they deserve some comfort nonetheless, right? Right!

I’d like the fear and the glooming doom, the invisible death, lingering in every breath take, the fighting against windmills and against invisible, untouchable party members who just order something so utterly stupid that-! 

I like the ship of them because the ever present fear of being caught, (generally don’t like homophobia, but canon and period typical homophobia are such a great fuel for drama and hurt/comfort plots…) and that middle aged men can still find and fall in love. 

But also, the friendship between these two is awesome and I love to read more about them. 

So, that’s it. 

I hope this got you some insight, feel free to also browse my ao3 for more, it this isn’t enough. 

have a great yuletide!

And, again, thank you so much! 

lots of love

masked_madness 

[missaengg]

Couldn't get this post out of my head, and felt inspired to write out Rafayel's portion.

With @jinwoosbabyboo's blessing... I hope I did you proud!! BECAUSE THIS POST RUINED ME 😭

The Last Call

It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The top brass at The Hunter’s Association had good intentions. The plan was perfect.

The plan was to take back Hat Island, a small island right off of Linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter’s Associated believed – no, were confident – their new strength, not only in number, but also in the collective Evols and skills of their growing force had improved to finally take back the small island.

But they were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start. 

The wanderers were too smart, too evolved. During their time inhabiting this small, remote island, they had frighteningly evolved past what anyone could have ever imagined. The Hunters never stood a chance.

You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers. Comrade after comrade had been slaughtered before your eyes, the number of Hunters dwindling rapidly with the knowledge that no reinforcements would arrive, until you were the only one left, wounded and alone. You pressed your hand to your side for dear life, trying in vain to suppress the blood gushing from your gaping wound.

You knew. You knew you weren’t going to make it back to Linkon. Back to him.

You had no other choice than to accept your fate.

Dragging your beaten body through the dense, thick trees, you stumbled across a hidden cave on the side of the mountain, a tiny respite from the ferocious carnage roaring outside of it. You slumped against the damp, cave wall, feeling the cold seep into your freezing body, clawing at the last shreds of consciousness so you could make one last call.

One last call to him.

He picked up even before the first ring finished ringing, as if he’d been waiting by the phone just for your call. That was just like him, to be waiting for your call, your Rafayel, your love, your everything.

“Hey, cutie!”

He sounded so happy you called. Your heart broke. It killed you to know that you’d be breaking his.

“You know you create the most beautiful art.”

You closed your eyes, picturing the last painting he proudly displayed to you once he’d finished, a beautiful rendition of the beach the two of you had visited during your last trip together just last month. He’d painted the moment perfectly, the soothing waves crashing on the shore, the cozy tenderness sitting together on the sand with a blanket draped over your shoulders, the wonderment watching the sun fade into a brilliant backdrop of soft pinks and oranges and yellows.

It all seemed so long ago.

“You’re making me blush, stop it.” 

You smiled. You could hear his flustered blush even miles away over the phone.

“I’m going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you, Raf.”

The tears you were holding back finally erupted, stinging your eyes, falling like a torrential storm.

“Huh?”

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your voice from wavering, trying to hide your tears from him.

“The next time you’re on the beach, and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise… that’s me… painting the sky just for you.”

Rafayel fell silent. You could almost see the frown creasing his brow, the one he got when he struggled to understand what you were saying.

“No… no, no, you’re–”

Your heart ached hearing the panic flooding his pleas, but you cut him off knowing you didn’t have the luxury of time, and you needed to tell him, you needed him to know.

“I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left…” You couldn’t hide your tears anymore, your anguish and regrets tumbling out in choked spurts. “I’m… I’m not making it back to Linkon…”

Rafayel’s breath hitched, a strangled whimper coming through the phone.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered.

Rafayel was crying now. You heard the strain, the shaky vibrato of his voice, the voice you loved so much to hear murmuring sweet nothings in your ear, the voice you were never going to hear again.

It wasn’t… it wasn’t supposed to end like this.

“I can come to you, just tell me where you are.”

You lowered the phone for a second, hot, angry tears streaming down your face, biting back the pitiful, heart wrenching wail threatening to burst from your tight chest, trying so hard not to break at the sound of him falling apart on the other end. You took a shaky breath in, so that he couldn’t hear your pain, hear you dying.

“I’m running on borrowed time right now, Rafayel.” 

He needed to know. He needed to know so that maybe… maybe even after your death he might be okay.

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you… so much.”

Rafayel broke. You clutched at your heart, feeling the stabbing pain of knowing that you were the one who broke him, knowing that you were the one leaving him breaking all the sweet promises you made.

“I love you too.”

You weakly smiled, finally allowing your eyelids to flutter shut.

Your breaths were labored now, your head hazy, unaware of how much blood had pooled on the floor in the short time you spoke to him on the phone.

“Good… good…”

You didn’t realize what you were muttering, your consciousness fading once you heard him say he loved you back, the last thing you needed to hear before you could finally let go.

You were so tired. So very tired.

Your hand slumped to your lap, your phone tumbling to the ground. Your body relaxed. Your breaths stilled.

No longer able to hear Rafayel’s wails once he realized you were gone.

Rafayel was never the same after that. He buried himself in his art, but his art changed. Before, his paintings were breathtaking and beautiful, but after losing you, they turned dark and twisted and deranged, his grief and pain splayed across canvas in dark, brooding colors, unable to use any shade that reminded him of you, and there were so many colors that reminded him of you.

So many colors that had once been inspired by you.

He shut himself away, refusing to leave his studio, refusing to interact with a world you no longer graced.

Thomas grimaced when he walked in. The room was steeped in darkness, the shades tightly drawn to block out the sun. Broken paintbrushes and slashed canvases littered the floor over dark, black splotches of paint staining the once pristine marble.

Rafayel sat in the center of the room, hunched on a stool before a large canvas splattered with black paint, the pattern reminiscent of a pool of blood. Your blood.

“Rafayel.” Thomas approached him, reaching out a hesitant hand, but changing his mind before he placed it on the artist’s shoulder. “You need to eat.”

Rafayel said nothing.

Thomas sighed, making a futile attempt at clearing away some of the resulting debris of Rafayel’s rage. “Are you getting enough sleep?”

Silence.

“The art gallery called. They’re canceling your exhibition. They said your new pieces are too… they’re just not what they’re looking for.”

Not even a stir.

It was only when a shrill alarm blared from Rafayel’s phone that he stirred, rousing from his melancholy trance. He moved mechanically, grabbing the only truly intact item in his vicinity, his camera. 

“Rafayel…”

Rafayel looked at Thomas, his face blank, devoid of any emotion save for the red that rimmed his eyes. Without a word, Rafayel slipped out the back door, headed towards the ocean mere steps away from his home.

Thomas exhaled heavily, watching Rafayel walk away.

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after losing you, dragging his weary body out to the beach every morning and every evening, lamenting the days the clouds or the rain covered the sky. That’s how Thomas would always discover him, sitting on the beach, the same blanket from your last trip draped over his shoulders, camera in hand to capture the sunrises and sunsets you painted for him even in your death. 

To capture one more glimpse of you, the only part of you he had left.

Last Call

Calling the LADS Men to say goodbye because you weren't going to be making it home to them. A/N: MC isn't reincarnating this time sorry. Artist @/am_soul_art on insta

It was supposed to be a quick mission. The intentions were good and the plan was perfect. At least thats what the higher ups thought at the Hunter's Association. The plan was to take back Hat Island, the small island right off the coast of linkon overrun with wanderers. The Hunter's Association believed that their strength in not only numbers, but also Evols and skills had improved enough to take back the small island.

They were wrong. So very wrong.

It was a suicide mission from the start; the wanderers were too smart there was never a chance. You panted as you ran from the onslaught of wanderers that had evolved over time inhabiting this island. You watched as comrade after comrade was slaughtered right in front of you. The number of Hunters was decresing quickly and there was no help coming. You held your side for dear life as blood gushed from your wound. You accepted your fate right then and there. You weren't making it back to Linkon.

You managed to find a small cave on the side of a mountain where you could make one last call.

Zayne

The phone seems to ring forever you were afraid you weren't going to hear his voice in your last moments. Just as you thought it would go to voicemail he picked up.

Zayne: Hello MC: Zayne.... Zayne: Yes I'm here

You couldn't help the grin that overtook your face.

MC: Remember our trip to find 'old popsicles'? Zayne: Of course I do MC: Remember when you swept me away from my friends to go read in a secluded park? Zayne: Yes ... where is this coming from?

You took a deep breath before coughing and grunting form the pain.

MC: I just want you to always think of our good memories ... I don't think we'll be making anymore after today Zayne: What are you saying? MC: They're gone ... they're all gone ... and I don't have much time left.

You finally broke down and sobbed into the phone as reality truly set in.

Zayne: Wh- MC: Promise me you'll move on ... I want you to find something or someone to bring the same vivacity that I brought you ... don't shut yourself off from the world ... I want you to be happy ... remember me in a good light because just know I died doing what I love Zayne: ....dont leave me behind MC: I love you Dr. Zayne......

Zayne didn't hang up he stayed on the line until he could no longer hear your stuttering breaths. He couldn't keep that promise of moving on. He threw himself into his work to keep his mind busy. He was afraid if he slowed down for one second he'd never be able to recover.

Rafayel

He picked up on the first ring as if he'd been waiting by the phone just for your call.

Rafayel: Hey Cutie!

He sounded so happy at the fact that you called it was already killing you that you'd be breaking his heart with this call.

MC: You know you create the most beautiful art Rafayel: You're making me blush stop it MC: I'm going to be painting pretty sunsets and sunrises for you Raf Rafayel: huh?

You swallowed hard trying to keep your voice from wavering.

MC: The next time you're on the beach and you see a beautiful sunset or sunrise ... that's me ... painting the sky just for you Rafayel: No no no you're-

His words became panicked as you quickly cut him off

MC: I wish I would have hugged you tighter before I left ... I'm not making it back to Linkon ... I'm sorry Rafayel: I can come to you just tell me where you are

Tears streamed down your face as your voice broke at the sound of him falling apart on the other end

MC: Im running on borrowed time right now Rafayel I just wanted to tell you that I love you ... so much Rafayel: I love you too

Your head was already swimming you didn't even realize you muttered.

MC: Good ... good.......

Rafayel never missed a single sunrise or sunset after that. Thomas would always find him sitting on the beach with red eyes and a camera to capture the sky that you painted for him.

Xavier

He picked up on the third ring w/ a groggy voice; he'd been asleep.

Xavier: My little star

His voice brought you a kind of comfort that no words could describe.

MC: You made a good call getting sick this week you know that?

You couldn't help but giggle at the situation.

Xavier: What are you going on about? MC: Remember how pretty the stars were that night we danced in the forest? Xavier: Yea they were almost as beautiful as you

He always knew how to make you feel like the prettiest girl to ever exist.

MC: Well next time you gaze at the stars the one star that seems to twinkle and dance just for you ... that'll be me

A brief moment of silence....

Xavier: You're not saying what I think you're saying

You could hear rustling on the other end knowing he just sat up.

MC: I'm sorry Xav ... I'm so sorry ... I promised I would make it back to you, but thats a promise I can't keep anymore ... I'm losing blood fast I can already feel myself losing consciousness Xavier: Hang on I'll be right there

And there it was the choked sob that finally slipped out of you as you responded.

MC: It's too late Xav ... do you love me?

He was quiet for a moment before you heard his low raspy voice respond.

Xavier: Yes. Of course I love you with everything that I am

Those words brought one last smile to your face and you finally let your eyes drift closed.

MC: thats all I wanted to hear ... I love you Xavier..........

Xavier was never the same after that. He spent his days training to get stronger to the point where his hands were bloody. No one could get through to him not even Jeremiah. At night he swore he could hear your voice as he gazed at the stars.

Sylus

Sylus: Hi sweetie MC: I love you!

You heard his breath hitch and then silence. You had rendered Sylus speechless with the three words he always wanted to hear.

Sylus: Why so sudden? MC: I never got the chance to say it to you, but I couldn't go without letting you know Sylus: where-

You quickly cut him off because there wasn't much time left. You could quite literally feel your life slipping through your fingers.

MC: this mission was doomed from the start ... I'm not making it home to you tonight ... I'm sorry ... there’s no pain though so I must be dying Sylus: Stay right where you are I’ll come find you MC: Don't .... it's no use ... thank you for everything I was always happiest with you

You smiled as you admitted that to him; it felt good.

Sylus: Stop you're not dying on that island

You sniffled as tears began to sting the back of your eyes.

MC: it's too late ... just ... just tell me you love me Sylus: but- MC: Sylus please Sylus: I love you My Queen MC: Music to my ears........

Sylus still tried to look for you, but could never make it onto the island for the wanderers were too strong....even for him. Mephisto did however manage to find you and brought back the necklace Sylus had given you. It now sits on a mantle in a glass case.

[xxacademy]

So I have this thing in my head - if maybe you can do headcannon or drabble. If you want/ ( whichever you want - your good at it all!) Where Leon's SO is at the hospital after being pretty much banged up on a mission ( with BOWS / both are working the same department) and I mean - near death experience lol. But a /between Re6 and Vendetta Leon/ and they have been dating for a long time now. I know very specific, but I have this in my noggin. If you're not into it, no matter - keep up all your work. I love it !

thank you for the kind words 🫶 i’m actually writing a full length fic for this because i LOVE this prompt. buuuuuut, for now a little drabble/hc because it’s gonna take me a lil while to finish that fic- i’ve already got like 2k words down for it though hahaha <33 consider this a companion piece for what’s to come.

hurt/comfort & fluff

leon kennedy x gender neutral reader

leon is calm under pressure, extraordinarily so. so when he gets the call that you were in the ICU, being rushed into emergency surgery he didn’t panic.

he thinks first and deals with the emotions later.

he details in his mind how to get to you- what hospital are you in, does he need to bring anything for you?

you’re out of the state- so he has to fly to you. because of his connections working for the united state’s government- he’s able to get an emergency plane ticket right away.

he has a few hours to kill, so he impatiently circles your shared home, thinking what could he bring for you.

he doesn’t allow his mind to think if your gonna make it out alive. only when you make it out.

he can only assume your clothing is tattered and bloodied, probably cut off of you.

he packs you some clothes, and some of your favorite things. like the little stuffed bear he bought you for your birthday.

on the plane he sits restlessly- checking the time over and over. you’re the only thing on his mind, he wishes he could hold your hand and tell you everything is going to be all right. he wonders if you’re scared. he hates that you’re alone.

upon landing he takes a cab to the hospital, he hands the driver a $100 bill and tells him to make it quick.

leon waits in the lobby of the emergency room, the blast of anxiety finally hitting him. the stifled cries of pain from other people waiting to be seen are overwhelming to him.

it’s when leon gets to see you that his emotions catch up to him. his sense of calm finally cracking the moment he sees you hooked up to machines in a hospital bed.

his blue eyes glassy from the tears welling up.

he kneels by your bedside- stroking your arm down to your hand. resting his head on the bed, watching you sleep.

he tucks the stuffed animal under your other arm- hoping to comfort you when you awake.

he talks to you even though you’re asleep, “i love you, you’re so strong- you got this, dear.”

please, please, please make it for me. i won’t let you leave me this way.

he attentively watches everything they do to you, every test that is ran and every medication that is administered.

leon gives you his unwavering support. wishing he can take the pain away. protect you from all harm. make life easier for you.

he knows your a fighter. hell, you wouldn’t be in this situation if it weren’t for your determined nature. but that in no way helps his urge to protect you.

when you wake up, you smile. a smile of warmth, full of surprise.

“leon? you’re here? how?”

“shhshh take it easy honey, im here- you’re here. that’s all that matters.” ♡

…

i wrote a fic inspired by this little blurb- check it out if you enjoyed this one!! -> tender

[random-thot-generator]

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 1

ONE: It’s a Start

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x READER

Summary: There’s a new customer that’s been coming into the White Dog Pub, where you tend bar. He’s stoic, gruff and difficult to engage, but you’re a bartender. You know how to get the most deadpan of customers to talk, and this aloof mountain of a man is no exception. You’ll win him over, one way or another.

cw: alcohol consumption, low-key crushing/fluff

(Notes: This is set in the Frenemies/Tenderness AU, inspired by my one shot ‘Try a Little Tenderness’, which can be found here. Please mind the tags for each chapter! The content warnings will change as the story progresses. Hope you enjoy.)

mdni banner: @saradika-graphics

CHAPTER ONE

-

‘Fate leads the willing; the unwilling it drags.’   

— Seneca 

-

He was a quiet one. A silent giant. 

He came into the pub every night, mumbled out his order in a low gravel and took the same seat at the end of the bar. He’d been doing this for more than a month, some nights staying until last orders, other nights only long enough for one drink. He never speaks, at least not to you.

He’s close with your boss, the owner of the White Dog, Ollie Turnbull. Ollie’s always pleased to see him, giving him a familiar pat on the back as he growls out, “How ya doin’, Riley?”

The two men will sit for hours, sometimes, leaning their heads together as they talk in low murmurs. You suspect Riley’s a soldier in the military, like Ollie once was. He just has that look about him. He holds himself the same way your father used to, like a coiled spring wound too tight, even when seemingly relaxed. You’re certain if anything ever went down inside the pub, he would be the first to react, Ollie a close second.

You’re curious about him. He’s an ‘odd duck’, as your nan was fond of saying. He has his little quirks, odd little idiosyncrasies that set him apart. For one thing, you’ve never seen the man without a hoodie. He wears different styles and colors, but they’re all dark in hue with a deep hood he keeps pulled up over his head at all times. He never pushes it back, always keeping his face half-hidden in shadow.

And then there’s the mask.

Sometimes it’s a fitted hood with only his eyes exposed, other times it’s a neck gaiter or a black surgical mask. When he takes a drink, he always lifts his mask from the bottom, never revealing his entire face. You’ve seen the hint of various scars around the edges of his masks, jagged lines turned silver with age, but they don’t seem severe enough to be horribly disfiguring. He’s hiding, you realize, but from what you’re not sure.

Riley’s sitting in his usual spot again tonight, every now and then his eyes shifting left or right, always on alert. He casts his gaze over you every now and then, too, lingering for a moment before looking away. You can’t help but wonder what he thinks of you.

It’s been a slow evening, just a handful of regulars showing up for a pint, but not staying long. There’s only one other customer at the bar, dear old Ned, and you’re pretty sure he fell asleep half an hour ago. You’ve already restocked and finished all your prep work for the night, so you’ve pulled out an old paperback of short stories to read, but you’d much rather be getting a head start on your cleaning. The sooner you’re done, the sooner you can leave.

Heaving a sigh, you walk down to the end of the bar, waiting for Riley to acknowledge you before you speak. When his dark eyes peer up at you, you give him a little smile. “Sorry to bother you, but do you mind if I start cleaning? I can top up your drink first.”

His gaze darts over your face before he glances down at his glass and shrugs. “’S fine wif me. ‘M good.” His voice is gruff, but not unkind.

You gather your cleaning supplies and get to work, wiping down tables and turning up chairs. Every now and then you glance up to check on your two customers. Ned, bless him, is still snoring. Riley, however, is leaning slightly forward, torso stretched so that he can look at the book you’ve left in front of him. You watch as he turns the book around to get a better look at it. It makes you smile.

You nod, offering him a grateful smile and lay your book face down on the bar. “Thanks,” you call over your shoulder, already heading for the supply closet.

Finished with the tables, you head back towards the bar, noticing how Riley stiffens and quickly turns the book back to its previous position. Pretending not to see, you grab your bottle of water, taking a sip as you lean your hips against the back counter, facing him. When he inevitably lifts his eyes, you meet them and motion to the book.

“You like to read?”

He shrugs. “Some.”

You nod and take another sip. “What genres?”

His brows knit together. “Depends.”

“On what?”

He heaves a sigh and leans back to cross his arms. “On what ’m in the mood t’read.”

“Oh. Yeah, I get that. I’m the same.” You take another sip then recap the bottle, pushing yourself off the counter. You fiddle with the ties of your serving apron as you scramble for something to say. “You, uh, need a top-up before I get back to work?”

He stares down at his glass and then slides it forward. “Yeah.” Again, he sounds gruff, but his tone has softened the tiniest bit.

He watches you pour the drink, eyeing you with an almost cautious expression. When you slide the glass back to him, his eyes flicker down to the book. “I’ve read tha’ one before. Which story’s yer fav’rite?”

You tilt your head and give him a considering look. “’Sticks’ by Robert Wagner.”

He nods, a gleam of approval in his sharp gaze. “Good choice.”

You give a slight nod at the compliment. “And yours?”

His eyes blink down at the book then back to you. “Same.”

“Good choice,” you say with a crooked smile, returning the compliment. You replace the bottle of Dewar’s on the shelf, then turn back and nod at the book. “You can borrow it, if you like. I just brought it in case I got bored. I’ve got plenty more at home.”

“’M good. No thanks.” he mutters. He leans forward again, shoulders hunched, and drops his gaze.

You deflate inside. Damn, I lost him. 

Not wanting the situation to get any more awkward, you try to soothe him with a casual, friendly tone and an easy smile. “That’s okay. Offer still stands. If you change your mind, feel free to take it with you.”

His eyes slant towards you and he gives a curt nod. Good enough.

You go back to work, sweeping around the tables in silence until you see him stand and lean over the bar to slip his glass into the dish water. He snags a towel and wipes down his area, before pushing his seat back into place. It’s a thoughtful gesture, something you wouldn’t have expected from him. Picking up his overcoat, he shrugs it on, then adjusts his mask as he walks towards the entrance. When he opens the door, he pauses, and his head turns in your direction. “Left some tenners on the bar for m’tab.” Another short pause. “’Night.”

You smile and give him a little wave. “Good night, Riley. Drive safe.”

His head snaps up and his posture goes rigid at the use of his name, caught off guard by the familiarity, but he quickly recovers. Relaxing his stance, he nods and takes a step out the door, uttering just loud enough for you to hear, “You, too, doll.”

He then slips out the door into the night, leaving just you and snoring Ned in the building. You stare at the entrance a moment longer, then go back to your sweeping. Your brain slowly sifts through the conversation as you work, picking over the words he spoke, digging for any hidden nuances you might have missed. He’s a hard one to read, but you think you did okay. At least he spoke to you without being prompted. It’s a start.

Right?

When you finish cleaning, you go wake Ned and call his wife to come pick up her husband. He smiles at you, bleary-eyed, and pats your hand. “I was awake, luv. Jus’ restin’ m’eyes.” You smile and nod, but don’t really believe him until he grins and adds, “Never heard tha’ big fella speak a’fore. He must’ve taken a fancy to ya.”

A slow smile spreads across your face. “Think so, Ned?”

“Oh, aye. Never seen ‘im go out o’ his way to talk to anyone else. Well, ‘cept for Ollie, o’ course. Don’t think the lad keeps many friends. Bit of a loner, tha’ one.”

A horn beeps twice outside, so you help Ned to his feet and walk him out to his wife’s car. Waving goodbye, you head back inside the pub to turn out the lights and lock up for the night. Grabbing your coat and bag, you make a beeline for the entrance, thrilled to be leaving early, but then realize you forgot your book on the bar. Huffing out a sigh, you turn around and go back to get it, only to discover that... 

It’s gone.

He took the book.

A pleased little smile lights up your face and you bite your lip.

He even told you good night... sort of.

You shrug. It’s a start.

That pleased little smile is still on your face when you lock the door and head for home.

>> Next

-

[thehoneybeet]

I’m SO here for the cow reclist please do it! 🤍🖤

Okay so it turns out niche reclists are really hard. I have no idea how you and @sitp-recs do it. A million kudos to everyone who does these. Anyway, thanks @mxlfoydraco for the nudge I needed to get this going! This one was inspired by a post I reblogged from @corvuscrowned about the universal truth that love is stored in cows. Without further ado,

DRARRY + COWS

fics with the presence of at least one cow:

🍃 the treehouse near primrose downs (2022, M, 14k) by @softlystarstruck

Draco is sure his giddy joy is written all over his face, but he doesn’t care. He’s going to have a cozy magical house with his best friend, and he’s going to get cows.

🐮 Featured cows: Flora, baby Freya, and Felicity

I can't say enough good things about this fic. Not only does the word "cow" appear 41 times, but it is a central point in the story of Draco and Harry's gentle love for each other. When everyone else gets tired of Draco talking constantly about his cows, Harry listens. I am also in love with Mexican Harry exploring his heritage and also learning the harp (!!). A beautiful meditation of the kind of love that makes a friendship and a home.

⚡️ The Bolthole (2020, E, 54k) by @tepre, aideomai, and GallaPlacidia

"Harry, are you scared of cows?"

"No!"

“Because it seems as if you may be scared of cows,” said Draco, looking more and more amused.

“I’m not!”

“Is this your one weakness? Saving people, and… cows?”

“Fuck off!”

🐮 Featured cows: none by name, but several picturesque descriptions

This fic speaks for itself, but what I love most about it is the way it deals with grief. Harry is a hoarder; Draco is grieving. A gorgeous classic.

🌼 The Genesis Theory by @stationintern (WIP ch 6/13, 2023, M):

"I am aware that you're messing with me, Potter. You're laying it on pretty thick." Malfoy folded his arms, his lean frame only a few inches taller than Harry's. "I will milk the cow and do it without fear. Just to spite you."

🐮 Featured cows: Rosita the Undead Therapy Cow, Harriet, Juniper, and others

I am reccing this fic even though it's still a WIP because 1) The last update was a few days ago, 2) it's SO GOOD, and 3) there are named cows and mysterious necromantic flowers. Harry has a farm and keeps his life secret from the magical world, but slowly he begins to let Draco in. Go give the author some e(bull)ient praise!

Honourable Mentions (below the cut)

There are a surprising number of fics featuring farms but with no mention of cows. Curiouser and curiouser! Where did they go? It's a moo-stery. Of course, the reasonable explanation is that the farms are simply not cow farms (we'll ignore this for the present, because after all, these fics still have the lovely spirit of cows, and that's really what matters). So:

Here are a few fics involving drarry and farms:

Knead by @jovialobservationanchor: While there are no cows, Luna and Ginny's beautiful farm has thestrals, white bison, an erumpent, and a thunderbird.

Third Quarter Moon by pourcesalad: A nearly complete wip (you've been warned) featuring werewolf!Draco who works on a muggle farm, and a fascinating take on the treatment of werewolves in magical society.

Fruit Stand by @drarrily-we-row-along: Draco grows peaches and keeps bees. Breathtaking, soft, and tender.

In conclusion, the world is unfortunately deficient in drarry + cows fics. My dear writers, it would be so wonderful if there were more cows on your farms and in your steamy cowboy fics and on your roadtrips and countryside vistas (and if they had names)! Happy reading and if you have more cow-related fic recs, don't hesitate to moove those to the cowments.

[sakkiichi]

MATCHUP FOR SCART-T.

hello, dear and my apologies for the delay ! thank you for requesting, I hope you like your matchup <3

since you didn’t specify if you wanted it for genshin or honkai star rail, i’m going to match you with genshin characters, due to me having a better grasp of their personalities. i apologize in advance if it’s not as lengthy as usual, but this is what i could come up with using the information you sent !

Your genshin impact match is someone very wise, with a vast knowledge of pretty much any topic. however, he can be a little clueless at times, to how current society works. he is well respected and seen by some as a parental figure. he is someone with many stories to tell too and he currently leads a peaceful life.

well, do these attributes ring a bell? these days he goes by…

✧ ZHONGLI

Zhongli is drawn to your motherly and mature nature. You are a welcoming and soothing presence in the lengthy days he’s walked Teyvat.

The ex geo archon admires how you seem prepared for any situation: from bandages, to spare tissues, to snacks, you have a knack for knowing what’s going to be needed.

As someone who’s seen and memorized countless stories, Zhongli’s heart warms at the sight of you reading and writing.

What tales are developing on those pages you fill, he wonders…

—

Liyue seems to dye in shades of gold at this hour, the outlines of the mountains surrounding the city, stark against a backdrop of oranges that fade into light blue.

Through your living room window, dusk’s last rays cast you in coppery hues, dust particles fluttering around akin to fireflies.

Pen in hand, you comfortably lie on the sofa, tongue sticking out the corner of your lips, as you diligently scribble on the previously pristine pages of your notebook.

But the setting sun is not the only one with his gaze focused on you.

Softened pools of molten amber are set on you, the ex geo archon’s expression, tender, fondness carved in his ancient, and at the same time young, features.

Tea cup in hand, Zhongli saunters into the room, his voice honey like when he inquires:

“Writing again, beloved?”

You look up from your work, sparkles dancing in your eyes when you meet his smile.

Carefully, you set your journal down, sitting up, inviting your lover to take the space beside you.

“Sort of.” You softly say. “I was just drafting something.”

Setting his tea on the low table, your partner relaxes into the couch, your form leaning against his.

“What was it about, dearest?” He asks, arms looping around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

You giggle.

“Hmm… it’s a love story…” You look up at him, those warm sultry eyes focused solely on you. “You inspired me to write it, you know…” You utter, your hands resting on his chest, as his arms soothingly run up and down your back.

“Tell me more, my love.” You feel his chest gently rumble at his words.

“It’s about a god and how he feel in love…” you trail off, nuzzling further into him.

“Oh? I’m interested, darling.” Zhongli whispers, leaving a tender kiss to your cheek.

“Really?” You retort, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “How about I show you instead, Rex Lapis?” You smirk, trailing feather light kisses along his perfectly sculpted jawline.

“Even better.” He breathes, your faces inches apart, before you two close the distance.

—

Your affinity for sleep is also something Zhongli finds super endearing. If he can’t sleep long in the mornings due to his job at the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor, he always makes sure to take naps with you in the afternoon, your head resting over his chest, his steady heartbeat lulling you into pleasant dreams.

He adores cuddling you at night as well. After long days, a good tea and your proximity and touch feel like paradise to the former archon.

If you ask him to, he’ll be more than happy to recount stories to you, his smooth baritone calming down any stress you might have had during the day.

Considering a modern au, I imagine you driving the car at night, with Zhongli by your side. He is entranced by the stars in your eyes when the city lights illuminate you, you’re simply so… powerful and ethereal like this.

You two would be an overall very gentle and sweet couple, it just makes sense to me heh.

✧ RUNNER UP: THOMA

I think you and Thoma would work well together because you are similar in your nurturing nature.

Because you are described as motherly, you could care for him in moments when he needs it, since Thoma is always tending to everyone’s needs, but who takes care of his?

Similarly to Zhongli, even if he can’t sleep in most days because of his schedule, Thoma makes sure to leave a kiss on your temple every morning before he goes, a fond smile on his lips and a newfound spring on his step when he thinks of how peaceful you looked asleep.

His cuddles are the best too, he’s just so comforting and loving, you can’t help but feel at peace in his arms.

Thoma asks Ayaka and Ayato for book recommendations for you since he found out about your love for literature; he just adores your smiles and sparkly eyes every single time he returns home with something new for you to read.

[mahkwibbah]

Hello dear! CONGRATS on your follower celebration, you're amazing and you deserve all the 💜 and kudos!! How about #25 from the "things fictional couples do that makes me lose my mind + writing prompts" list with our boy Llewyn?

25. when they’re doing something outside, it’s dark outside, and one of them views something pretty in the sky, like a shooting star, or just the stars in general, and they pull their lover by the hand, all excited to watch the shooting star, and their lover looks at them in pure admiration

Hello lovely, I know it took me 2 months to write this prompt but it really is perfect for Llewyn and inspiration finally struck this morning. Thank you for sending it. 🥰

This one clocks in at 853 words and has a gender neutral reader.

——

You had been at the Gorfeins' vacation house for no more than fifteen minutes when you realized that Llewyn was miserable.

He tried not to let it show, of course, all polite smiles and quiet chuckles and his fingers interlaced with yours as the Gorfeins gave you a tour of the whole place. But his smiles were just a little too tight, his chuckles too weak and his grip on your hand tightening as he got a glimpse of room after room.

Luckily – if you could call it luck – your drive out to the Catskills had kicked off later than you planned, and the traffic had been worse getting out of the city than you anticipated, too, so the Gorfeins finished the tour on the guest bedroom and pointed out all the amenities before very courteously saying, "Now we'll leave you to it, we know how tired you must be after your trip."

No sooner had they eased the door shut than you'd turned to Llewyn and said, "You hate it here."

"What? No, of course I don't. Like they said, I'm just a little tired." Llewyn made a point of pulling you close and giving you a soft, sweet peck, and when you pulled away, he was smiling. "Now go on, you were talking about a shower for the last half hour of the drive. I can take care of unpacking."

"Such a gentleman," you'd teased, giggling over the way he scowled as he nudged you away.

Despite the fact that you both packed fairly light, you're surprised to emerge from the shower and discover that Llewyn is no longer in your room—you'd expected him to be lounging in bed with a book, perhaps, or calling his sister to let her know that you made it okay.

Instead, it's only the faint light of a cigarette at first that cues you in to the fact that he's sitting out on the small balcony connected to your room.

"All clean," you report as you nudge the door open.

He hums and looks up at you, offering a small smile that you can only just make out as your eyes adjust to the darkness. "And ready to take the Catskills by storm."

"Only if you are." You let out a soft groan and drop into the other chair, promptly leaning an elbow on the armrest and your chin in your hand. Llewyn is mid-drag on his cigarette, and when he sees you watching him inhale and hold it, he raises an eyebrow, so you continue. "I feel like I shouldn't have worked so hard to convince you to come out here."

Llewyn seems to be on the brink of arguing with you when you return his raised eyebrow, and then he falters, allowing a beat of silence. A beat of frankly wonderful silence, the kind of silence that had made you excited to take the Gorfeins up on their offer to join them for a few weeks: crickets chirping and a complete lack of honking horns or strangers bickering too loud outside your window.

"I don't hate it here," he reiterates, even though you have not actually suggested as much. "I just..."

You reach out and smooth your hand over his forearm, hoping that he'll receive the gesture as tender. From the way his lips quirk up, you think he does. "You just?"

"I've never been out of the city like this. Except for when I shipped out, I guess, but I don't know. It's different. All of that--" He waves the cigarette vaguely in the direction of the house. "--is different."

"Oh yeah, of course it is, sweetheart." You squeeze his arm tight, just once. "Of course it's a lot to take in. And if it's too much..."

Llewyn actually lets out a soft laugh, and you think this one feels sincere. "It's not too much. I'll get settled in. Some things might even be better out here than they are in Manhattan."

"What could possibly be better out here than in the city?"

From the sidelong glance he gives you as he takes another drag, he seems less than amused by your teasing, but he still answers upon the exhale, smoke wafting past his lips and above him. "Check out the lake."

You'd hardly even noticed it when the Gorfeins showed you the room, because night had fallen and you'd been trying to politely get them away as quickly as possible to give Llewyn more space. But looking out at the view now, your breath catches in your throat—over the scattered trees opening out onto the lake, and more trees on the far shore leading to the mountains, off on the horizon, and above it all, so many bright and shining stars.

"Oh, you think that's better than Manhattan?"

Again, you're trying to tease him, but then you look his way again and see just how focused he is on the view. He looks positively enchanted, even if he does only say, "Maybe a little."

You cast your gaze over Llewyn's face as he stares, and softly, happily, you smile.

[donvampiro]

Hello my love 🥰 how are you doing? I was wondering if I can place a request if possible. Marco x fem reader who is really good with kids. Gets Marco wanting to start his own family. thank you so much in advance I truly appreciate this so much you are amazing don’t forget that love ❤️ have a wonderful day🥰❤️

Here is a little Luffy giving you a present because you are wonder my dear ❤️🥰😊

omg VALERIE STOP I'M SOBBING- ❤️❤️❤️

this is so cute 🥺🥺 i'm doing well! thanks a lot for your request dear, and for this sweet little Luffy!! (i love how grumpy he looks hahaha) please be assured i think highly of you and your work as well, you're doing great! ️🥰 *gives you tiger lilies*

NOW: THE REQUEST. this is the first time i've to write about kids and somehow family, so i'm like VERY VERY apprehensive aaahh (>///<) still, i hope it will meet your expectations as much as possible 🥺❤️

and i'm SO, SO, SO sorry for the wait, i'm a slow writer :'(((

have an awesome day, sweetheart! (and happy new year!! this is the first 2022 request hehehe)

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Kindergarten'

Marco x fem!reader

This stopover was really welcome. Really. The crew was tired, and the urge to slow down was felt. To relax. To stroll a bit. And that was exactly what you were doing there with Marco.

Maybe you were holding hands, maybe not, anyway, you were pacing up and down the streets of this city still unknown to you, eager to discover its nooks and crannies. It was sunny. It was good. It looked like one of those pretty romantic scenes you could read in the books or see in movies, yes, everything looked perfect – especially that quiet smile that lit up your boyfriend's face.

Walking, strolling. No, really, nothing, nothing at all, nothing could have ruined this moment.

'Look at that alley!', you said abruptly, pointing at the designated place.

Curious, Marco craned his head a little, trying to pinpoint more precisely what you were showing with enthusiasm.

'What's wrong with that alley?', he asked.

– 'I find it cute, look, each house is a different color! And... I think there are paintings on the cobblestones. I'd like to take a closer look. You come with me?'

Marco nodded, his smile widening.

'Sure.'

The houses, in their different colors, scrupulously followed a pleasant color panel, if only for the eyes. Pastel, although being verging on warm colors, so in tune with today's good weather in a way, and a slightly older building caught your attention. It was in cut stone, carvings and moldings sprinkled it, ah, and it seemed a little higher than the others, shadowing the street.

'It's a kindergarten', Marco anticipated, 'The building is really beautiful. Looks very old.'

- 'Wow. If I were one of the children, I'd be rather glad my school looks like this. Nice premises can be a bit motivating, sometimes.'

Your boyfriend nods, remaining silent.

'I like kids a lot', you blurted out, in a small voice.

The tender smile that stretched your features made Marco's heart melt as much as the sun scorched the cobblestones of the alley, and you stood there in front of the school, staring at it. Well, until you turn to your boyfriend.

'It's funny, waiting, like that, in front of this kindergarten, it looks like we're coming to pick up a child, don't you think so?'

Marco cocked his eyebrows, maybe surprised by what you just said, maybe not, maybe because he thought this too. Maybe a little bit. Maybe a lot. Who knows?

'I don't know', he chuckled, 'maybe we just look like a weird couple of people waiting for kids we do not have.'

Or not yet...?

You both heard the ringing of kindergarten, and in a very short time, a flood of parents surrounded you, to the rhythm of the same flood of little human beings coming out of the school. It was just like looking at the sea: as the waves and the foam could be soothing and inspiring, these waves of children running to find their parents calmed you down, at least they brought you a form of happiness. Of a smile. You didn't know very well. But what you did know was that you liked children. Marco kept watching you, reveling in your happy look.

Was it these children who brought you so much joy so quickly? Was it these little human beings who made that graceful smile bloom on your pretty face? Marco didn't know really well. He was just supposing it. So he kept this information in mind, yes, that kids could bring you happiness. He wouldn't forget it. That was for sure.

You were going to turn to him, maybe to tell him something, maybe not, you were walking towards your lover anyways, but this movement was prevented by a child who was running, and who accidentally bumped into you, falling to the ground because of the shock.

Immediately alerted by the falling child, you crouch down next to them, while the child was sobbing, struggling to hold back their tiny tears.

'Oh! Are you okay, dear?', you asked, concerned.

It was obviously not good news that the child had fallen, and Marco also hoped they hadn't hurt themselves, however, he couldn't help it, he was still way more captivated by this view of you sitting down next to this little being, inspecting if they haven't any scratches, stroking their scalp a bit, and, finally, managing to put the smile back on their face. All of this so quickly, and above all, so easily – well, that's what Marco was thinking, anyway.

This sight was much more bewitching than Marco could have imagined, yes, much more. And it was awakening in him thoughts which had until then been only temporary, wandering; thoughts that used to disappear as quickly as they had come, because, to his mind, they seemed inappropriate.

Having a family.

You had started a little conversation with the child, their parents didn't seem to have arrived yet, and you looked so happy, so peaceful; and this child, everything had changed, now they seemed so glad too, honestly, it was beautiful to see. Nice job, (y/n). Marco was smiling. Maybe unconsciously, maybe not. Seeing you happy makes him peaceful, too.

Wouldn't it be great if you two also had this little cocoon just for you, a peaceful little circle bringing you joy? Soothing each other's wounds, giving each other love, laughing together, spending time together, yes, wouldn't that be nice?

Ah, there you go, Marco was starting to think about it all again. It slightly embarrassed him to think about it again (was this too romantic?), but... as much as it made him happy, to be fair. Forces were balancing, we'd say. His smile was widening as he watched you chatting with the child, and thought about how happy you both might be having one. You'd be such a great mother.

Everything lined up in Marco's mind, just like in the most beautiful stories, yes, everything seemed both logical and incredible. It made him so happy, and the more the minutes went by, the more he kept this goal in mind, he couldn't get rid of it bitterly like he used to, no, that was the way it was, he wanted to start a family with you.

'You okay?'

The soft sound of your voice woke Marco out of his daydream ; with this peaceful smile still splitting his face.

'Yes.', he simply replied.

He noticed that the child was gone. No doubt their parents had arrived in the meantime. Marco didn't really pay attention. That's the principle of daydreaming, after all!

It was that time of year when it got dark early, and there the sun was starting to set. Already.

And maybe it was in the dark that you were walking peacefully back to the harbor, and maybe it was in the dark that you were holding hands ; and Marco, was he still thinking about starting a family with you? Maybe. This mere moment, this mere image, you, with this child, everything had made sense all at once, everything had gone from hypothetical to assertive, from rather monochrome to multicolored; and it's perhaps in this same darkness, in this ending day and this beginning night, that he will speak to you about this wish of his, long dreamed of, little expressed, but now released of its imprisonment – because he loves you. that sounds like a good reason.