#interlock circles

[mikewiker]

Inspiration for a mid-sized transitional backyard stone patio container garden remodel with a pergola

Historia da Arquitetura

[acemotes]

Plural Symbols Emojis

Ampersand requested by Ash on discord!!<33

I was looking for a plural flag to use that color scheme but couldn't find any- if anyone has any recolors they'd like, just ask :)

Requests open!!

[thecedarchronicle]

i loveee sewing but it does not come naturally to me at all it uses so much brainpower. im so tired but i want to keep working on my project. truly i must be cursed

[oswednesday]

while i do like the ice king and i think all that is kiiiinda spicy it has always bothered me that the story focuses so much on him and makes all the princesses like these one off jokes theyre not deep characters right but its like hey lets invest a lot of time and energy on a guy who puts them in contact with a lot of unwanted physical pg sexual attention and develop empathy for this guy cause he was rendered insane by magic like,,,idk,,,that just isnt it gfdghdhdf

[vanscoy-diamonds]

Why a Diamond Chain Pendant Set Makes the Ultimate Sentimental Gift—And How to Pick the Right One

Gift-giving often marks the most cherished milestones in life—anniversaries, the birth of a child, or personal accomplishments. Within the first sixty seconds of unwrapping, a thoughtfully chosen diamond chain pendant set can express emotions words rarely capture. Pieces like the diamond interlocking circle necklace merge symbolism with elegance, creating lasting impressions rooted in love and memory.

The Emotional Value of a Diamond Pendant

Jewelry becomes meaningful when it resonates with both the giver and the recipient. Among all pieces, a pendant rests closest to the heart—literally and emotionally. The beauty of a diamond pendant lies not only in its sparkle but in its ability to carry sentiment through generations. Whether representing the unbreakable bond between partners, a new chapter as parents, or the strength of a lifelong friendship, diamond pendants serve as wearable keepsakes of life's greatest moments.

A diamond chain pendant set stands apart as an all-in-one gift solution. Coordinating earrings or bracelets add completeness to the gesture, showing not only aesthetic consideration but emotional intentionality. Matching sets reflect unity, which makes them ideal for celebrating shared journeys.

Symbolism of Interlocking Circle Necklaces

When it comes to powerful symbolism, interlocking circles have long represented eternal connection. In diamond form, this motif reaches a new level of elegance and sophistication. The diamond interlocking circle necklace becomes more than a design—it signifies two lives, two souls, or even two moments in time joined without end.

Designers often use platinum or 14K gold settings to enhance the strength and longevity of this shape. Diamonds nestled into each circle elevate the visual appeal while reinforcing the idea that beauty and resilience coexist. For anyone choosing a pendant as a romantic gift, this style delivers a message that is both visual and emotional.

How to Select the Perfect Pendant

Selecting the ideal pendant set involves more than visual preference. Buyers should factor in lifestyle, material sensitivities, and the recipient’s personal aesthetic. While a minimalist may prefer a sleek solitaire pendant, someone with a bold sense of style might lean toward layered or embellished pieces.

To begin the selection process, consider metal type—platinum for durability and luxury, or rose gold for warmth and softness. Next, evaluate the diamond grade by referencing the 4Cs: Cut, Color, Clarity, and Carat. A well-cut diamond will reflect light brilliantly, while color and clarity contribute to its overall appearance. Carat weight determines size and should balance proportionally with the chain and pendant design.

Van Scoy Diamonds, for instance, offers an excellent example of this process through their showroom and online platform. Customers can browse a variety of shapes and settings, compare lab-grown and natural diamonds, and even schedule virtual consultations to finalize their decisions.

What Are the 4Cs and Why Do They Matter for Pendants?

The 4Cs—Cut, Color, Clarity, and Carat—define diamond quality. A pendant may be smaller than a ring, but it still benefits from high-clarity, well-cut stones. The Cut determines brilliance; Color impacts hue and purity; Clarity reflects how free a diamond is from inclusions; and Carat affects the size. Knowing these factors helps customers align beauty with budget while ensuring that their pendant maintains value and appeal.

Many reputable jewelers provide educational tools to help customers evaluate these factors confidently. Some even include certification with purchases, adding assurance that each diamond meets ethical and quality benchmarks.

Is Financing Available for Diamond Gifts?

Yes, many jewelry stores provide flexible financing plans, especially for significant purchases like a diamond chain pendant set. Financing opens access to higher-value gifts without compromising immediate financial stability. Plans often include six-month interest-free layaways, monthly installment options, or lease-to-own programs that don’t require credit approval.

Retailers such as Van Scoy Diamonds, for example, offer a mix of revolving credit, layaway options, and partnerships with financial platforms to accommodate a range of budgets. These services allow romantic gift buyers to secure timeless pieces while managing expenses effectively.

Ethical Considerations and Conflict-Free Guarantees

Modern buyers care deeply about the origins of their diamonds. Choosing conflict-free diamonds ensures that your gift not only expresses love but also supports ethical labor and sourcing practices. The Kimberley Process Certification Scheme helps jewelers guarantee that their diamonds are free from human rights abuses and environmental harm.

Look for vendors who disclose their sourcing policies and offer certified conflict-free stones. This step elevates your gift into a statement of integrity and compassion, amplifying its sentimental impact.

Final Thoughts

A diamond chain pendant set offers more than beauty—it captures emotion, intention, and shared memories in one timeless piece. When selected with care and understanding, it becomes a powerful emblem of commitment, love, and gratitude. Incorporating styles like the diamond interlocking circle necklace adds depth and symbolism, perfect for those seeking a romantic and lasting gift.

By learning about the 4Cs, exploring flexible financing, and prioritizing ethically sourced diamonds, buyers can make a confident and meaningful choice. For every anniversary, celebration, or new beginning, a well-chosen diamond pendant becomes a treasure that transcends time.

[guyofthing]

Protse deserves a better writer than me. I literally forgot about her.

[kenqo]

dilf!nanami x virgin!f!reader (˶ˆᗜˆ˵)

nanami shoving his big cock in your tight little pussy :( you two met at a bar the other day, you’re barely twenty one and he’s already in his early forties.

imagine his shock when he finds out you’re still a virgin at twenty one?! he stifled in a laugh at that, he didn’t want you to think he was making fun of you. you guys ended up hitting it off that night and started to meet each other more, from coffee dates to small pecks on the lips.. and the age gap didn’t seem to bother either of you, if anything you were into it way more than he was.

then you finally give him the words he’s been waiting to hear, that you want him to take your virginity.

and as he expected, you were as tight as a vice. he said he’d be gentle with you, (unfortunately he promised you) but he wanted to fuck you hard already. “such a pretty pussy, baby,” he coos, his voice is so perfect. deep, soft. just like how he was entering you.

“s-slow, please,” you mumble, your hand coming up to grab his, interlocking fingers tightly. his eyes almost melted at the sight of your beautiful expression, the way your breath hitched and the way your hand was sweaty. “i’ll be slow, promised you, remember?” he watches his thick cock go inside you inch by inch, you could feel yourself getting stretched out. it was oddly pleasurable yet a bit painful as he pushed deeper.

he watches you nod your head and bite your lip, before speaking up again. “let me hear your voice pretty girl, that was our deal right? i want to hear all your sounds.” his free hand that was guiding his cock in your walls came to rub your inner thigh softly, his thumb rubbing lazy circles on your plushness.

“feels good yeah? say it feels good for me honey,” he talks again, you nod your head, “feels good, you.. you feel really good,” that makes him smile.

you can feel his shaft deep inside you now, but not fully bottomed out yet, and you wondered how big he truly was.

a few moments later of slowly pushing alllll the way in, he bottomed out, and he let out a deep groan at the way you felt. “you’re perfect, y’know that?” he whispers.

he disconnects his hand from your own, earning a soft whine from you that made him chuckle. he grabs your calf’s softly with both his huge hands and scoots you closer, lifting your body up so he can have better access as he puts your ankles on his shoulders. “this is much better..” he hums.

“you can move now,” you finally say after a minute of adjusting to his size. and what went from moving slowly became him thrusting into you a bit more roughly, if it was up to him he’d have you on your knees, spanking your gorgeous ass as he praises you, but this was nice too- especially because he loved the way those moans escaped your pretty lips and he knew this was what he wanted, what he needed.

© kenqo - do not plagiarize / translate my work

i got too lazy to finish it but dilf nanami supremacy !!

[kaiist]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐃𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐂𝐄 ⋯ 𝐇𝐎𝐖 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘 𝐂𝐔𝐃𝐃𝐋𝐄

𝐗𝐀𝐕𝐈𝐄𝐑

Limbs completely intertwined, Xavier’s legs weave between yours, creating an intricate knot of warmth beneath the sheets. His arms encircle your waist, pulling you so close that your chests rise and fall against each other with each breath. Face to face, his nose nearly brushes yours.

The weight of his arm draped over your side anchors you firmly against him, while his other arm slides beneath your neck, creating a living pillow. Your foreheads touch, creating a small pocket of shared air between you. His fingers absently trace your spine, the light pressure a silent communication in this cocoon you’ve created together.

When you shift slightly, his body automatically adjusts to maintain the connection, legs tightening their gentle hold around yours. He pulls you impossibly closer until your heartbeats seem to synchronize, the steady rhythm vibrating through the minimal space between your bodies.

His breathing gradually slows against your face, eyelids growing heavy even as he fights to maintain this moment of consciousness with you. The battle was lost, his muscles relaxed slightly, but his hold remained secure—his body curled entirely around yours, every limb connected, every point of contact preserved even as sleep claimed him.

𝐙𝐀𝐘𝐍𝐄

Your head rests perfectly in the hollow of Zayne’s shoulder, the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek creating a gentle, lulling motion. His right arm curves firmly around your shoulders, hand splayed protectively across your upper back. The weight is there yet comfortable—present without being restrictive.

He shifts slightly, adjusting his position to better accommodate you, his movements careful not to disturb you too much. His left hand reaches across to brush some hair from your face before settling on your arm, completing the circle of his embrace. The warmth from his body envelops you completely, his chest radiating heat like a furnace.

His chin rests atop your head, fitting perfectly in the space as if designed for this purpose. When you nestle closer, his arms tighten slightly, a subtle adjustment to your new position. His cheek presses against your hair, the light pressure a constant reminder of his presence.

Your bodies align—his longer frame curved exactly to complement yours, creating perfect contact from shoulders to feet. Even his breathing eventually synchronizes with yours, his chest rising as yours falls, then reversing, creating a peaceful counterbalance beneath the weight of his encircling arms.

𝐑𝐀𝐅𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐋

Rafayel’s head nestles against your chest, his ear pressed directly over your heart as though listening to a favorite melody. His arms snake around your middle, fingers interlocked behind your back to complete the circle of his embrace. The weight of him draped across your torso is notable but comforting, like a living blanket.

He adjusts frequently, small wiggles and shifts as he seeks the perfect position—head nudging under your chin, then sliding to rest in the center of your chest. His legs tangle with yours beneath the sheets, one thigh thrown casually over yours. His hair tickles your neck and chin with each subtle movement, a constant sensory reminder of his presence.

His arms squeeze randomly in bursts of affection, momentarily tightening their hold before relaxing again. His fingers remain in constant motion against your back, tapping out rhythms only he can hear. When you breathe deeply, his head rises and falls with your chest, and he sighs contentedly at the motion.

Each time you attempt to create even the smallest space between you, he instinctively puts an end to it, pressing closer with a small noise of protest. His entire body molds against yours, claiming every available inch of contact as though trying to dissolve the boundaries between you.

𝐒𝐘𝐋𝐔𝐒

The solid heat of Sylus’s chest presses firmly against your back, fitting perfectly against your spine with not even a whisper of space between you. His arms encircle your waist, one wrapped securely over your midsection while the other slides beneath you, completing the embrace. His fingers splay possessively across your stomach, occasionally tightening their hold as if confirming your presence.

His legs align with yours, the back of your thighs cradled against his in a perfect fit. When you shift, his body moves with yours as a single unit, maintaining the connection. The warmth between your bodies intensifies where you touch, creating a cocoon of heat that envelops you completely.

His breath falls in measured rhythm against the nape of your neck, stirring the fine hairs there with each exhale. The subtle press of his lips occasionally replaces the breath, lingering briefly before returning to the established pattern. His chin occasionally hooks over your shoulder, bringing his cheek alongside yours in a moment of increased closeness.

The entire position forms a protective shell around you—his larger frame curved precisely to encompass yours, his arms locked in their secure hold, his chest rising and falling against your back like a living fortress that has claimed you as its sole occupant.

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐄𝐁

Caleb positions himself facing you, his head placed slightly higher on the pillow so his chin can rest protectively atop your head. Your foreheads occasionally touch when he ducks down to catch your eye before returning to his watchful position. His legs weave between yours, calves hooking behind your ankles to close any possibility of distance.

His arms create a complete circuit around you—one curved beneath your neck and shoulders, the other wrapped securely around your waist, hands meeting in the middle of your back. The embrace envelops you entirely, his larger frame curving to accommodate yours while still maintaining his slight height advantage.

When you breathe deeply, his hold adjusts automatically, loosening and tightening in perfect response to your movements. His fingers trace idle patterns against your spine, occasionally pausing to spread wide and pull you fractionally closer, eliminating even the suggestion of space between you.

The position places your ear near his heart, its steady rhythm a constant backdrop to the rise and fall of his chest against yours. His chin occasionally rubs affectionately against your hair before settling back into place, maintaining that protective angle.

Based on this request.

[buckcherried]

the mirror at the end of the bed was a recent purchase, one made by you, with a singular yet very important intention.

good old-fashioned loverboy kento nanami is a man that loves to make love. he values intimacy, romance. being able to make eye contact during the amorous act of sex was of high importance to him. he fucked insanely well, especially so under these pretenses.

so, even with his hands full of your perfect ass that aligned so nicely at his hips, doggy style had always felt a bit... impersonal. and despite how good and rough he always managed to fuck you, regardless of the position, he always preserved the connection between the two of you. his hand finding yours against your hip and interlocking fingers whilst drilling his cock upward into your cunt as you rode him reverse cowgirl, the way his thumb would caress your cheek as he held a tight grip of your jaw as he fucked your mouth ever so slow and steady... kento nanami always found a way to pour the romantics into everything he did.

his favorite act of romance, though, was eye contact. the very notion had him feral. having his eyes locked with yours as the two of you did the filthiest things to each other — he could cum at the mere thought. you could always see it right there in his eyes, usually moments after you batted your lashes up to meet his low-lidded gaze, and it was all over. it was allllll in the eyes.

that's why last night, not even half an hour after he came buckets into your cunt during a very hot and heavy session in the missionary position with your foreheads practically glued together, you got out the measuring tape. silently, in the warm glow of your bedside lamp that softly lit your sleeping lover's face, you took measurements of the wall facing your bed while the impurest of thoughts ran rampant through your mind.

the delivery men had it up and installed rather quick the next morning. you tipped them and sent them on their way before they could even begin to imagine the plans you had for this new item placed so strategically in your bedroom. you barely had time to fantasize as you heard kento enter down at the front door.

those hazel eyes found yours immediately as soon as their beholder swung open the bedroom door.

through the mirror, you caught his wide-eyed stare from your position on the bed — face down, ass up high in the air, wearing nothing but his favorite black lace set. he stood there for a moment, his stare flitting to your body and back, finding conversation in your eyes as they told him everything he needed to know about how the scene in front of him came to fruition.

kento's bag fell with a thud as it dropped to the floor, his hands finding a new interest as they found his belt. he made quick yet steady work of it, gaze never leaving yours as he pulled it from its loops.

he remained silent as he halved the belt into one hand and walked into the room. your eyes never left his form as he approached the bed, mattress dipping from the added weight as he knelt on it behind you.

you flicked your head to the side, your right cheek pressed against the bed as you peered back at him best you could from this angle, a soft gasp hitching in your throat as you catch him freeing his rigid cock from his dress pants.

his fingers dipped around the material of your thong and dragged it to the side, tapping at your now bare entrance, giving your core a few languid circles, making a mess of your arousal.

"my sweet wife..." kento's voice was low at your ear as he leaned over you, a hand grazing softly over your ass, cock twitching as the length of it pressed flat against your weeping cunt, "if you needed to be fucked like this you just had to ask."

you didn't have the chance to respond before kento sheathed himself inside you, wasting no time in removing any of his clothes as he got to pounding you mercilessly into the bed. his big strong hands held your hips up high, in perfect position, fucking you into oblivion at a pace you couldn’t physically comprehend as the snaps of his hips flung you forward.

your scream was muffled by the bedsheets, fisting the material so hard your knuckles begged for mercy.

kento tutted, hauling your chest up off the bed by seizing both your wrists and yanking them back toward him to clasp in one hand, "eyes, darling."

it was the only warning you needed, eyes locking with his in the reflection of the mirror immediately. the groan that escaped his throat was guttural. you could feel his cock harden against your walls as he continued his ravenous assault of your cunt. his low-lidded gaze was telling, those hazel eyes darker than you had ever seen them.

"ah, there’s my girl.”

the love in his gaze was overwhelming as he quite literally fucked you like he was trying to split you in two. his beefy chest strained against his tight button-up as he put all his strength into the action, the thick muscles of his biceps rippling as he used you as leverage to fuck you even harder. his jaw clenched, those pussydrunk eyes flitting from yours to the place where you connected, hypnotized by the way this thick length sheathes perfectly into your tight little cunt like you were made for him. your gaze was locked on his frame, staring with wide eyes as he spit in his free hand and grazed his way around your trembling thighs to make contact with your clit, knowing he found juuuust the right spot by the way you arched into his touch for more.

kento took the opportunity to rut the entirety of his ruinous cock inside to the hilt, his aching balls flush against your core as he holds himself there, hips grinding in for as much give as your cunt would allow him.

the stretch of him dropped your jaw, your lungs gasping to maintain your breath at the sensation of being completely and utterly full. you could barely keep your eyes open — but fuck, it would be a crime to miss out on the moment before you. those utterly lovesick eyes of his on yours as he began to make work of your clit, so intentionally slow and steady as you warmed his throbbing cock.

it was hard for you to keep it together now. his touch lit you on fire, the soft strokes of his expert fingers that know you oh so well. and that cock of his, so unforgivingly big, rutting there ever so gently at your cervix over and over and over, stuffing you full to the point of delirium.

you tightened around him as you desperately tried to adjust to the stretch. he was so fucking big. no matter how many times kento fucked you it seemed like he’d never fit. but your husband always got the job done.

kento let your wrists free as you caved into the mattress, not letting your eyes leave his as you peered up from the sudden relief of the covers as his free hand ran the length of your back.

“you know just how much i love you, yes?” his pace slowed to an even more intimate speed as he leaned to trail kiss after kiss up your arching spine, “thank you for the surprise, sweet girl..."

the gravel in his voice caught your immediate attention, your lulling eyes that were rolling to the back of your head now snapping back up to meet his.

and there it was. it was always in the eyes. he looked at you like you hung the stars. his wife. the woman he would lay his life down for. the only one to know him so well, so intimately. the woman who'd install a fucking mirror at the end of the bed just for this very moment.

"... now cum for me.”

and you did, immediately. it was all too much now, all you could feel was him. the pressure of his cock, how you could practically feel him all the way up in your stomach — you were done for the moment you watched that last screw drill into the wall this morning.

the shakes racked your body as you came, cunt clenching him for all he’s worth as he followed suit, rutting his hot thick cum inside you like it was the last thing he’d ever get to do. the hand at your clit reaches further down, his fingers splitting the place your searing bodies meet to memorize the feeling of the way his cock ruts in and out of you as the two of you ride out your orgasm.

kento had come undone — a mess of hot and slutty moans at your ear. he simply could not. get. enough.

and as you take in the beautiful sight of him holding you so in the reflection, all sweaty and fucked out of his mind, you couldn’t help but grin as your hand leisurely followed to meet his to feel the last of his strokes stuff your cunt. his eyes, yearning and low-lidded, latched to yours as he watched you open your mouth to speak.

“would the delivery men start to catch on if we had them install another on the ceiling?”

[mrsfancyferrari]

Sleeping Medicine

Summary: Lando is known for sleeping in the paddock and other places and getting caught for it. You seem to increase those chances by being Lando's girlfriend and his pillow.

Song: Thinkin Bout You ‧ Frank Ocean

Author’s note: Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 2.6k

MASTERLIST - F1

The world knows Lando Norris. They know the infectious grin, the quick wit, the fearless talent on track, the playful 'Little Lando Norris' antics.

They know he's always tired, a running joke in the paddock, an endearing quirk. But what they don't know, what only you truly understand, is the sheer depth of slumber he can fall into the moment your fingers trace patterns on his scalp.

Everyone expects him to nod off, but with you, it’s not just nodding off. It’s an irreversible descent into a blissful, unshakeable sleep, from which he will not, cannot, wake up easily.

And when he finally does, the last thing he wants is to leave the warmth of your arms.

The Driver's Room

The air in the driver's room is a cacophony of muffled sounds: distant engine roars, the chatter of engineers, the low hum of air conditioning. It’s a temporary sanctuary, a place of brief respite amidst a whirlwind weekend.

You step inside, leaving the usual race day chaos behind, and find him exactly where you expected: slumped in his ergonomic chair, headphones still around his neck, eyes half-closed as he stares blankly at a monitor displaying telemetry data.

He’s been in and out of meetings, on and off track, fielding questions, pushing limits. Even for him, a perpetual motion machine, today has been draining.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you murmur, crossing the small space to stand behind him. He grunts in response, a low, tired sound, but doesn't open his eyes.

His shoulders are hunched, a testament to the tension that has built up over the day. You lean down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his messy hair, which smells faintly of sweat and something uniquely 'race track'.

"Rough one?" you ask, your voice soft, understanding. He sighs, a deep, shuddering breath. "Quali was… a lot. My head feels like it's been through a washing machine."

You nod, sympathetic. You know the feeling, the mental exhaustion that comes with operating at such a high level of concentration.

Without a word, you lift your hands and gently thread your fingers through his soft, slightly damp hair. You start at his temples, massaging small circles, feeling the tension subtly begin to release under your touch.

His body, initially stiff, starts to relax, leaning ever so slightly back into your hands.

You move to the crown of his head, your nails lightly raking through his hair, then down to the nape of his neck, where the muscle knots are most prominent.

You can feel him melting, literally softening under your touch. The faint hum of the air conditioning, the distant sounds of the paddock, all seem to fade into the background, replaced by the gentle rhythm of your fingers, the quiet intake of his breath.

He leans his head back further, resting it against your stomach as you continue your work. His eyes, which were once half-open, are now fully closed.

His breathing deepens, slowly, steadily. You know this rhythm, you’ve memorized it. It’s the sound of Lando Norris, the racing driver, the public personality, shedding his armor and sinking into oblivion.

His hand reaches back, blindly finding yours, interlocking his fingers with yours, a silent plea for you to continue.

Minutes stretch into what feels like an hour. The telemetry data still flickers on the screen, forgotten. His body is completely relaxed, a dead weight in the chair.

You can feel the warmth emanating from him, the steady thump-thump of his heart against your palm.

He’s out. Truly out. Not just a nap, but a deep, restorative sleep born of utter exhaustion and the unique comfort only you seem to provide.

Just as you're wondering how long you can stay like this, a sharp rap comes at the door. "Lando? Five minutes to driver briefing!" It's Charlotte, his press officer, her voice carrying an edge of urgency.

You wince. The spell is broken. "Honey," you whisper, gently shaking his shoulder. "Lando, wake up. Briefing."

He groans, a sound of profound protest. His eyes flutter open, revealing bleary, unfocused pupils. He looks utterly disoriented, like a deep-sea diver suddenly pulled to the surface.

He blinks, then blinks again, slowly registering your face above him. A slow smile stretches across his lips, but it's the smile of someone desperately unwilling to let go of their dream.

"No," he mumbles, his voice thick with sleep, already reaching for you, his arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you down until your cheek is pressed against his head.

"Stay. Just five more minutes. Ten. An hour." He buries his face into your side, his grip tightening.

He's an anchor, and you're the ship, firmly rooted.

"Lando, Charlotte's waiting. You have to go." You try to gently extricate yourself, but he holds on with surprising strength.

"Don't wanna go," he whines, his voice muffled by your clothes. "It's warm here. And you smell nice. And my head doesn't hurt anymore."

You sigh, a small laugh escaping your lips. "I know, love, but you have to. You're Lando Norris, you have a race to win."

He pulls back just enough to look at you, his beautiful eyes still clouded with sleep, but a mischievous glint starting to emerge. "Only if you promise more head rubs later. A lot of them. And maybe we can just miss the briefing and cuddle instead?"

You kiss his forehead. "Get up, you big baby. After the briefing, after dinner, after everything. All the head rubs you want. Now go." With a final, reluctant groan, he finally unwound himself from you, pushing himself upright, running a hand through his now even messier hair.

But before he left, he leaned in for one last quick, sleepy kiss, a silent promise in his eyes. He might be leaving, but he wasn't really letting you go.

His Parents' House

The scent of roasting chicken and freshly baked bread hangs in the air, mingling with the comfortable, lived-in aroma of the Norris family home.

You're visiting for a quiet weekend, a much-needed break from the relentless F1 schedule.

Lando, surprisingly, had been relatively awake for most of the morning, helping his mum in the kitchen, teasing his siblings, and even engaging in a lively debate with his dad about a recent rugby match.

But the afternoon, as always, proved to be his undoing. You're curled up on the plush sofa in the living room, a half-finished cup of tea on the coffee table, a book resting unread on your lap.

Lando, initially engaged in a video game with Cisca, had slowly migrated towards you. He'd started by resting his head on your shoulder, then gradually slid down until his head was in your lap, his long legs draped across the cushions.

You’d instinctively begun to run your fingers through his hair. It’s softer here, less stressed than at the track, clean and fluffy. You trace the natural part, then gently massage the scalp above his ears.

He sighs, a soft sound of contentment that resonates through you. The game controller, forgotten, clatters to the floor.

Cisca glances over, rolls her eyes playfully, and then goes back to her own device, used to her brother's spontaneous naps.

The rhythm of your touch is slow, deliberate. You feel the subtle shift in his breathing, the way his body seems to melt into the cushions beneath him. His eyelids, initially fluttering, come to a complete rest.

You can see the faint blue veins beneath the thin skin of his eyelids, the dark lashes fanning out against his cheeks.

He looks so young, so peaceful, entirely different from the focused, intense competitor the world sees.

You continue the light strokes, occasionally adding a gentle scratch with your nails just behind his ears, a spot you discovered he particularly loved.

He whimpers slightly in his sleep, a tiny, happy sound, and shifts, burrowing his face deeper into your lap, his arm blindly coming up to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer.

The weight of his head is comforting, the warmth of his body seeping into your legs.

A soft, content smile plays on your lips. This is your Lando, vulnerable and entirely yours, lost in a dream.

"Dinner's ready, kids!" Cisca’s cheerful voice rings out from the kitchen, followed by a clatter of plates. "Lando! Cisca! Come and get it before it gets cold!"

Cisca immediately bolts upright. "Coming, Mum!"

You, however, have a more challenging task. "Lando," you whisper, gently stroking his cheek. "Dinner. Your mum's calling."

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a growl and a purr, tightening his grip on you. He doesn’t even stir beyond that. The call of food, usually irresistible to him, falls on deaf ears.

"Lando, come on. Chicken and roast potatoes. Your favourite." You try a little more firmness, nudging his shoulder.

He stirs, but it's not a wake-up. It's a deeper burrow. His head presses harder into your lap, and his hand, still clutching your waist, bunches the fabric of your shirt, pulling you down.

"Five more minutes," he murmurs, his voice slurred with sleep. "Just five. Don't move."

You hear Cisca's footsteps approaching. "Everything alright in here? Lando, did you hear me?"

You give her an apologetic look over Lando’s prone form. "He's, uh, pretty comfortable, Cisca."

She clucks, a familiar exasperated-but-fond sound. She sees him, a mass of limbs and messy hair, utterly unconscious in your lap.

"Oh, for goodness sake! Always the same. You've got him properly snoozing, haven't you, love?" A twinkle enters her eye. "You're his secret weapon for a good night's sleep, apparently."

"Apparently," you agree, smiling down at his peaceful face. "He won't budge."

Cisca laughs. "Let me try." She kneels down, her voice firm but gentle. "Lando Oscar Norris! Get up! Dinner!"

He doesn't even twitch. Not a muscle. You suppress a giggle.

"Told you," you whisper.

Cisca shakes her head. "Right. Well, we'll eat, and you can keep him company for a bit longer. He clearly needs it." She pats your arm. "Just try not to starve, darling."

You thank her, and she retreats, leaving you alone with the sleeping pile of McLaren’s star driver. You look down at him, utterly trapped, but not minding one bit.

His grip on you is still firm, his breathing a steady rhythm. You know that if you managed to drag him to the table, he'd be halfway back to sleep before the starter was even served.

So you settle back, resuming your gentle head rubs, content to be his personal sedative, his favorite blanket, his anchor in the quiet, comforting world of sleep.

Dinner could wait. Lando wasn't going anywhere.

Vacation with Friends

The villa echoes with laughter, music, and the splash of water from the infinity pool. The air is warm and smells of sunscreen and something grilling on the barbecue.

You're on a much-anticipated vacation, a week of sun, good food, and great company, with Lando and a handful of his closest friends. Everyone is in high spirits, unwinding after a long, intense season.

You'd spent the day by the pool, playing silly games, and now the late afternoon sun was beginning to dip, casting long shadows across the patio.

The energy was still buzzing, but Lando, never one to pace himself, was starting to flag. You’d noticed him leaning against a poolside pillar, his eyes a little glazed, his usual quick quips replaced by slow blinks.

"You alright there, sleepy Eeyore?" you’d teased, nudging him gently.

He'd just grunted, a multi-syllabic expression of profound weariness. "Just… absorbing the sun. It's strenuous."

You knew what that meant. He was on the verge. "Come on," you’d said, taking his hand. "Let's find somewhere quieter. Before you faceplant into the pool."

You led him away from the main hubbub, past the outdoor kitchen, to a secluded, shaded daybed nestled amongst some vibrant bougainvillea.

It was a perfect escape, far enough from the noise to be peaceful, but still close enough to feel part of the group.

He dropped onto the plush cushions with a sigh of absolute relief, stretching out his long limbs. You sat beside him, and without a word, he rolled onto his side, resting his head in your lap, his legs tangled with yours.

The slight breeze rustled the leaves above, and the distant sound of his friends' laughter became a soft, pleasant hum.

Your fingers found their customary place in his hair. Here, it was still damp from the pool, cool against your skin. You worked your way from his forehead, tracing the line of his eyebrows, then circling his temples with light pressure.

He melted instantly, a low moan of pure bliss escaping his lips. His breathing evened out almost immediately, deep and rhythmic. You felt the subtle tremor of his body as he relaxed, every muscle giving way to the soft embrace of sleep.

You continued, running your hands through the cool, damp strands, lifting them and letting them fall back down, scratching gently at his scalp. He was completely out, an island of profound peace in a sea of holiday merriment.

You watched the rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed curve of his lips, the way the last rays of sun dappled through the leaves and painted patterns on his face.

You were utterly content, holding this peaceful, sleeping man who, despite all his energy and zest for life, could be felled by a few minutes of your touch.

"Oy! Lando! Dinner's ready! Fresh fish!" It was Max, his voice booming across the patio.

You winced. Here we go. You tried gentle persuasion first. "Lando, honey, dinner. Max is calling."

Not a flicker. He was dead to the world, buried deep in Dreamland.

"Lando!" Oscar’s voice this time, closer, as they clearly started a search party. "Mate, don't tell me he's asleep again."

You looked up to see Max and Oscar approaching, grins on their faces. They took one look at Lando, completely passed out in your lap, and burst into laughter.

"Unbelievable," Max groaned, shaking his head. "He’s like a tired toddler. You've got him completely incapacitated, haven't you?"

"It's the head rubs," you explained, trying to sound innocent. "He just… succumbs."

"More like you brainwash him into ultimate relaxation," Oscar quipped, nudging Lando's foot with his own. "Wake up, you old man! There's food! And maybe a few drinks later!"

Lando stirred, a deep, frustrated groan rumbling in his chest. His eyes squinted open, struggling to focus.

He blinked, a slow, drugged process, then registered his friends looming over him.

"No," he mumbled, his voice thick and barely audible. He didn't even try to sit up.

Instead, he just tightened his grip on your leg, pulling you closer, nuzzling deeper into your lap. "Stay. Just five more minutes. Don't wanna move."

"Mate, come on," Max said, trying to pull his arm. "There's grilled prawns!"

Lando just mumbled something incoherent and buried his face deeper, clinging to you like a limpet. "Can't… move… too comfy… with her."

Oscar burst out laughing. "He's completely useless when she gets her hands on him! You've got him trained, you know that?"

You smiled, running a gentle hand over his still-damp hair. "He's not trained; he's just happy."

"Happy and completely comatose!" Max retorted, eventually giving up and just chuckling. "Alright, we'll save you some fish, you big baby. But you're missing out on the good banter."

They ambled back to the main group, still laughing and teasing. You listened to their voices fade, then looked down at Lando, who was already drifting back to sleep, his breathing evening out once more.

He had a faint, content smile on his lips. He was clearly missing out on the party, on the food, on the friends.

But he was utterly unwilling to give up this moment with you.

You knew, deep down, that you wouldn't trade it for anything either. Let the world have the fast, witty, energetic Lando Norris.

You had the one who found his deepest peace and most profound sleep in the simple, loving touch of your hands, making him utterly unwilling to leave your side.

It was a trade-off you were more than happy to make, every single time. . . .

[satoblue]

“YOUR PLACE” — gojo satoru

satoru can’t focus around you. his solution? finding you a new place to sit. | wc: 0.7k

f!reader, established relationship (married), satoru longing for you like a lover sent off to war (you’re only a few feet away from his desk). | dividers made by me

with a frustrated sigh, satoru slams down his pen on the wooden desk, making you jolt in your seat. you look up from your book at the abrupt noise that disrupts the serene silence.

with an annoyed huff, he speaks.

“you’re distracting me.”

his eyes shoot over to you, narrowing as they rake over your body, lingering on your legs for a moment before snapping back to your face.

satoru leans back in his seat, looking away and running a hand through his hair to maintain his sanity — messing it up and representing exactly how he is feeling on the inside - a mess - clearly struggling to keep his composure. he shakes his head slightly.

“seriously.” he scoffs under his breath.

you blink, straightening up with your legs tucked beneath you.

currently, you sit adorning the cushioned chair he had commissioned and reserved specifically for you — soft enough for comfort yet not too much to cause you back problems.

it was initially made so he wouldn’t get antsy and abandon his duties by constantly getting up to find you around the house because he so desperately needed to be near you.

satoru thought it would be enough to satiate him — to feel you, to be reminded of your constant presence regardless if he looks over or not.

turns out, it isn’t. for you are water and satoru is a man dying of thirst.

“but… i’m not even doing anything?”

with a sharp inhale, he interlocks his hands in front of his face, elbows resting atop his work desk, paperwork and everything else but you long forgotten.

were you being dense on purpose? trying to seduce him and pull him away from his responsibilities? you already have his attention. and what else could he say? that you looked too good sitting there in your nightgown? your bare legs were distracting? you were breathing too loud?

quite frankly, in satoru’s opinion — you weren’t breathing enough. he needed you close, to be the air in his lungs that he required in order to function day to day so he wouldn’t collapse. satoru wants you to breathe life — your life into him and leave him full of only you.

but instead, he tuts, head in his hands. “doesn’t matter.”

at his words, you close your book slowly, a bit hurt and confused because he had been the one to ask you to keep him company. but he clearly looks stressed, face red as he swipes a hand over it to cool down.

you frown. “i can leave, if that is what you want?”

satoru’s head shoots up at that, staring at you with a piercing gaze which says more than his mouth does in the moment — oddly enough.

no.

that isn’t what he wants — you misunderstand him. if you left, it’d only make the yearning in his heart far worse. how is it possible to long for someone so badly even though they are right in front of you?

“it’s fine. i have a solution.”

not even a second later, satoru rises from his office chair, circling his way over to you in long purposeful strides. your brows shoot up in surprise but before you can say anything, he scoops you up and into his arms, taking you and your book back with him.

as your husband sits once more, he places you on his lap, leaving you dumbfounded. wrapping a muscular arm around your waist, he holds you securely in place. the bare skin of your legs brush his clothed thighs beneath you, chafing slightly.

satoru leans in, chin resting on your shoulder, the scent of his cologne hitting your nose. with your back flush against his broad chest, his minty breath brushes your ear, causing you to shiver as he murmurs.

“this is better.”

after a moment of being perched there, a smile eventually tugs at your lips.

ah, you understand now.

with a stomach full of butterflies even after years of being married to the strongest — the man who only became weak when it came to your simple existence — you relax in your new seat.

you think you like it too.

[ozarkthedog]

𝐟𝐢𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐬

summary: you wear Marcus’s gold laurel crown while he worships you.

pairing: Marcus Acacius x afab wife!reader

warnings: 18+ mdni. smut. body worship. basically, treating you like the Goddess that you are. feels. praising. oral sex (f). fingering. cream pie. i'm sure there are inaccuracies so just don't pay them any mind. reader is abled bodied. no y/n. no beta. w.c: 1.6k

an: so i had this thot the first time i saw Marcus and i haven't been the same since.

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭 ⋅ 𝐅𝐢𝐜 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐟𝐬 ⋅ 𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐮𝐬 𝐀𝐜𝐚𝐜𝐢𝐮𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐋𝐢𝐬𝐭

War is dreadful and barbaric.

Marcus plots the Emperor's commands despite the incessant regret that sours his stomach. His army of men slay soldiers and pillage towns. There is savagery wherever he looks. As he's aged, he's become callous to the bloodshed, no longer the feral ravenous beast he once was.

Finding you warming his bed is a sight bestowed to the Gods, he thinks.

His body aches, muscles sore from weeks on the battlefield, but the moment he sees you, all his pain vanishes. His white and gold armor rests against the foot of the bed; signs of war have no place in this sanctuary.

You beckon Marcus in the silence of his bedroom, lit only by candles that make the room glow an ethereal hue, while your supple body is wrapped in his cream-colored sheets like a bouquet. Your fingers find his as he climbs into the bed, interlocking like vines along a lattice as he lies beside you. He rests his laurel-crowned head on your lap like a child longing for warmth and compassion.

Marcus gazes up at you, his other half in this forsaken world, his goddess.

"You did well today." You praise, smiling down at him, remembering how regal he looked in the golden diadem as he gave another victorious speech to the crowd.

Marcus hums as you run your fingers around the golden leaves and through his curls. He allows himself to rest in your divine embrace, if only for a moment. Your heavenly harmony soothed his worn, remorseful soul.

"I do it all for you, my Lady." the General purrs, tenderly lifting your hand to kiss your knuckles.

Marcus's white tunic shifts as he rises to his knees and plucks the crown from his head. His curls bounce with the movement before he places the crown atop your own.

You timidly raise your hands, feeling the intricate design and the solid gold leaves as the crown sits heavy on your head, but he looks at you with awe.

"I've never seen such beauty in all my days." Marcus compliments like a man staring at the sunrise for the first time.

You were the shining beacon that kept him sane during the days of war, and he would make sure you knew the effect you had on him.

"My Empress," Marcus gently tugs the sheets, dragging the cotton down your body. He relishes your voluptuous form with a soft groan. "It's been too long since I gazed upon you." The skin at the corner of his eyes crinkles as he trails his gaze from the tips of your toes to your gilded halo.

His hands burn. He flexes them at his sides as he hungers to feel your tenderness, warmth, and compassion. "My goddess."

Your face flames as your lashes flutter to the sheets, overwhelmed by Marcus' adoration. If he only knew that you'd happily drown in the wake of his love.  

A solid finger lifts your chin to meet his sober stare. "Do me the honor of watching me pour my devotion upon you."

A lithe gasp falls from your lips as he drops his hand and lightly cups your breasts. Worn and calloused, the hands of a known killer, though he's always so gentle with you, your nipples pucker as he skims each bud with delicate circles.

Your lips part with a gasp, chasing his hands when he withdraws. He chuckles at your panting breaths. "Do not fret. There is still much time to ravish you."

His mustache tickles your skin as he leans and sucks your left breast into his mouth. Tounging the pert bud, he brings succulent pleasure to the surface and a soft cry from your lips. He massages the right with expertise, kneading and pinching, knowing exactly how much pressure to apply until he has you squirming.

He strives to leave no spot unclaimed. He's a man of his word; nothing can stop him once he's begun. Stone walls and fleets of men wielding swords and canons cannot stop him.

Soft lips trace under the arc of your breasts before moving to your ribs. A mischievous tongue darts out at the curves, tasting the thin layer of salt on your skin.

"I'd sail across the ocean for you." he professes; the timbre of his voice is as deep as the sea.

A barrage of kisses presses to your waist and the softness that you carry. Marcus's stormy beard lightly grazes your skin as he makes his ascent, leaving pebbles in its wake.

"I'd fight my own army to get to you."

Your fingers card through his locks as he settles between your thighs, making room for himself and pushing your legs apart. He hooks them over his broad shoulders with a devilish smirk. A wry tongue licks a straight line from your pulsing opening to the crux of your mound, making you tug his hair with a wanton mewl.

Marcus stills, like a predator, having just sunk its claws into prey, and presses his scarred, aquiline nose into the soft curls that top your mound. His nostrils flare as your heady scent invades his senses. A low growl rumbles from his chest as he lowers his head, watching you from under his lashes. His once enchanted eyes have now become slivers of torrid black as he latches his teeth into your fleshy mound.   

You cry out from the impish bite, hips unconsciously grinding toward your lover as he unlocks his jaw and finally smothers your cunt with his mouth.

Your nerves sizzle from the immoral embrace as his tongue dances over your clit. Nimble fingers trace your sticky petals, dipping in and out of your hole, drawing more blood to fill your already throbbing folds. Your heart beats in time with the pounding of your lower half as Marcus takes his time to worship you.

"Seems my Lady enjoys my touch." He purrs— a slick, shiny grin plastered on his face.

Your body bends, curving sharply like a bow aimed and waiting for the charge. Marcus keeps you primed like the General he strived for ages to become. "Tonight, you will not want," he claims, notching two fingers at the opening of your core.

He holds your fiery stare as he presses into your soaked channel. Your head lolls, and your eyes flutter like butterflies as his thick digits widen your velvet passage.

"Always so good to me." Marcus coos, curiously curling his touch along the hidden ridges deep inside. His cock aches, soaking the sheets with his pearly spend, desperate to be inside you. "Letting me adore and worship as I please."

You want to hold him in your arms and repeat every word he praises back to him in a whisper, but Marcus is a man of his word; tonight is about you and only you.

His shoulders stop your legs from closing as a violent wave of pleasure rolls over you. A wicked laugh rumbles from the man as he suckles your inner thigh. "So close, my Lady. I can feel it." Marcus works his fingers in and out, driving you to the edge, and there's nothing you can do to stop it.

Slick, drenched kisses stain your skin, another sign of his devotion, as your limbs tangle even more with the stoic man. His rough hands easily hold you down as you wriggle in his grip. Your breathing escalates, and blood pulses in your ears as the eager desire to come consumes you.

"Yes, my Love, take what I give you," Marcus begs, thrusting his weeping cock against the bed in time with his fingers, working you higher and higher.

Marcus wraps his lips around your clit, suckling and swirling the tiny bud until you're chanting his name. He tortuously hooks his fingers onto the spot behind your clit, forcing you to swell and explode into a mass of sparkling particles.

The moment your eyes blink open, having floated back down from your glorious high and into the comfort of Marcus' bed, he notches his cock at your creamy opening and thrusts himself to the hilt.

Your jaw drops with a silent cry. It's devastating and empyreal but your body welcomes him home like always.

"Her embrace is so warm and tight. Like how I dreamt on all those lonely nights", Marcus groans, dropping his head to your shoulder.

The image of Marcus touching himself in the darkness of his tent after a day of savagery makes your cunt quiver. The power you hold over this man is not to be taken lightly.

As you become one, your breasts press against his broad, dewy chest as he blankets your smaller frame and pushes you into the mattress with every cant of his hips, driving his length into the deepest depths.

Crescent moons pepper his freckled back as he shows you sights you've never seen, eliciting his name from your lips with a broken, gasping prayer. Your hold tightens around his bouldering shoulders, his thrusts gaining immense strength as the end closes in, shoving you up the bed.

Marcus noses your cheek, drawing your attention from the blissful heaven. "My Love," his hands encompass your face, from chin to temple, so cautiously, like he's holding a newborn. "I've never experienced such wonders than when I am inside you."

He continues to rock you in the safety of his arms and his bed, hurrying his thrusts when your eyes roll and your limbs become stiff. Marcus wants to meet the Gods with you and feel the rapture and glory as they carry you off into the heavens as one.

Marcus growls with bared teeth as he comes; his spine flexes as he spills his seed and fills you to the brim. He doesn't stop thrusting until his come is leaking onto the sheets, and your folds can no longer hold his offering.

You are his temple, and he will worship until the day he falls.

feel free to scream at me -> 💌

reblogs & comments are extremely appreciated! follow @ozzieslibrary for new fic updates!

[navybrat817]

Every Touch

Pairing: Thunderbolts!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader

Summary: Bucky touches you every chance he gets.

Word Count: 820

Warnings: Established relationship, sweetness, fluff, implied smut, Bucky Barnes (he's a warning, okay?).

A/N: More Tower Shenanigans inspired by a sweet nonnie! ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @saradika-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Once your relationship is out in the open he doesn't stop touching you because there's nothing to hide. Plus he loves touching you.

If you two are ever apart, he seeks you out first thing. If his hands are full, he puts whatever he’s holding down so he can put his hands on you in some way.

It’s normal for him to sneak up behind you in the kitchen, or any room in the tower really, and press a kiss on your shoulder. It’s always the same spot and it always tingles after.

He likes to sit close in the common room so your legs are touching. He sometimes tucks your head under his chin and breathes you in, and other times he rests his head against you and you run your fingers through his hair.

Bucky once got jealous when you ran your fingers through Bob’s hair, but that’s a story for another day with a very happy ending for you.

He also likes to sit beside you when he reads so he can hold your hand, and he places the book on his lap so he can turn the page and not let you go. If he runs small circles on your hand, he’s reading something soothing, and if he’s squeezing your hand, he’s reading something exciting or potentially upsetting.

Interlocking fingers puts a small smile on your face because that means he’s reading something romantic and he once said, “This is one of the greatest love stories ever told, but ours is better.”

You didn't laugh or tease him because he meant it. “I love you, too, Bucky,” you said, your heart full.

Everyone knows you're by his side for movie nights and he’ll happily hide your face in his neck if you watch something scary, even when you tell him you aren't afraid. He just wants to protect you, even if the monsters aren't real.

If he sits beside you when you eat, he has a hand on your thigh. That can be dangerous depending on the kind of mood he’s in.

If he has to sit across from you, prepare for him to play footsie or reach across the table to take your hand. He sometimes does both.

You hold hands or he has an arm around your shoulders in public. If he puts his arm around your waist, someone is either staring at you or is ballsy enough to hit on you in front of him.

You usually give him a kiss on the corner of his mouth when that happens, both to calm the raging storm inside him and to wordlessly tell anyone looking that you two belong to each other.

Every once in a while Bucky will play music so you can dance together. He’s a gentleman at first and has a hand on your waist while the other has your hand in his, but it typically ends with an innocent kiss that becomes heated and his hands wandering over your body.

After you woke up in his bed the first time, you traced a heart over his when you thought he was still asleep. A heartbeat later he traced a heart on your back.

Your limbs are constantly tangled up when you're in bed together and you both continue to trace patterns and shapes on each other's skin. You even write words or phrases that he tries to guess, which he’s pretty good at.

If he catches you frowning, he’ll reach out and touch your cheek with one finger until you smile. He’ll then put his entire hand against your cheek to keep you in place and memorize how beautiful you look.

Bucky is in a better place mentally than he has been in a long time, but he still has his bad days like everyone else. When those days pop up, you ask if it’s okay to touch him.

He never answers with words. He’ll take your hand, wrap you up in a hug, whatever he needs, and he appreciates that you asked when others would've just taken or assumed.

If you're hurt, it’s game over. He's carrying you everywhere and holding you in his lap, even if it's the tiniest injury known to mankind and you're more than capable of moving around on your own.

You tease that he's dramatic, but you not-so-secretly love it. It also isn't a secret that some missions are terrifying and you both need the comfort and each other's touch after.

“I can't lose you,” he once whispered so low that it was almost lost in the air. You snuggled close so he could feel your beating heart and know you were right there with him.

In your dreams, and you hope in reality, you’d never lose each other. You’d fight together, grow old together, and live a long and happy life together.

And you’d cherish every memory with Bucky, along with every touch.

This man. 🥰 I wonder just how jealous he got because of Bob. Love and thanks for reading! ❤️

Masterlist ⚓ Bucky Barnes Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

[shokorohandmade]

Shokoro's Circle Necklace Jewelry Collection, New Interlocking Circle Necklace with Four Circles

A Circle is never apart. It is a reflection of your story. A symbol of everlasting and unbreakable love between family members, friends and soulmates

It is thoughtful jewelry gift for someone special.

Visit us to find more about our Jewelry with meaning behind it

Website: Shokoro Handmade (Dainty Jewelry Brand Canada) https://www.shokorohandmade.com/

Shoko’s Blog: Subscribe to receive shokoro's blog 

( topic: Gemstone. Jewelry, Fashion, Life Style, Chakra stone, Angel Number…)

Etsy Store: Shokoro Design

https://www.etsy.com/ca/shop/ShokoroDesign

Etsy Genuine Natural Gemstone Jewelry Store: From Earth by Shokoro

https://www.etsy.com/ca/shop/FromEarthByShokoro

shokoro_ca 

https://www.instagram.com/shokoro_ca/

Facebook

[kitasuno]

dating the love and deepspace boys | domestic moments

featuring: rafayel, xavier, and zayne x gn!reader

(´• ω •`) ♡ modern au! can you guys tell raf is my favorite..?

rafayel

a year younger than you. lies to everyone (including you) that he’s actually two years your senior. you only found out he was younger than you when you met his parents, who have his birth certificate framed. 

hates cats. despises them. they fill him with rage (fear). says he’s allergic (he’s lying).

“oh shit raf, this sucks! i guess you can’t move in with me.. i have cats”

“...you have cats?”

“yeah. 3.”

“i’m not allergic. i can move in tonight.”

chronically online. minoring in marine biology and majoring in annoying you. texts you over 200 times a day and if you don’t respond, he’s faking a horrible chronic illness. again. it’s amnesia on wednesdays, appendicitis on thursdays, chronic migraines on fridays… etc..

he has 2 followers on his private twitter. you and thomas. 

over 700k followers on instagram for some reason? he sells paintings on depop (he says it's depop but you’re convinced he sells them for heinous prices on the black market) 

cooks on occasion? has an apron that says kiss me im irish (he's not irish?) made you a tuna cupcake once?? 

pescatarian. not in the vegan/vegetarian way where he refuses to eat red meat but because he’s absolutely feral over fish. (is this cannibalism? he says its not)

lives in a 2 bedroom apartment with you but doesn’t use his bedroom. says your bed is comfier. turned his bedroom into a painting studio (IT’S for the black market you say!!) and sleeps with you. 

“raf,” you sigh. “don’t you have.. homework or something?” 

he sits between your legs, back against your chest as he scrolls through his phone. 

“yeah,” he says. you flick the back of his head because you know he’s smirking. “it’s called assignment: you. due in two minutes.” 

with his free hand, he reaches back mindlessly to grab yours. you sigh, fingers intertwining with his, a reflex as he leans his head back. his eyes meet yours and you can’t help but laugh. 

“well?” you ask, brushing his hair out of his eyes as he squeezes your hand. “what are the assignment details?” 

he chews on the bottom of his lip as he thinks, humming while his eyes wander across your face. he swings your interlocked hands in circles. it’s raining outside, the heater is on, and rafayel is warm like hot chocolate. 

“what?” he says, his cheeks a tinge pink. “you’re looking at me like that again.” a pause. he turns, his head now buried in your chest.

“just studying my homework.” you say, hands instinctively wrapping around his back. the laundry machine is running in the background, rain is falling against the window, and you faintly hear your rice cooker dinging in the kitchen. home, you think, is with rafayel.

“i can hear your heartbeat.” he says, voice muffled. “it’s super fast. you like me or something?” 

“i really like you.” you say, without skipping a beat. rafayel groans into your chest, sighing in discontent. 

“no fair. i’m supposed to be the flirter.” 

you press a kiss onto the top of his head and you feel his body melt into yours. the two of you fall into a warm silence, his breath steady as he traces paintings into your neck. 

“raf?” you mumble, eyes drooping. he hums in response. “did you pass your assignment?” 

he smiles. “with flying colors.” 

xavier

chronic napper. (yapper?) 

has 100 late assignments. failing all of his classes yet got into the top university in your country because he got a perfect score on his entrance exams. you thought he was a nepo baby (turns out he’s just.. smart?)

his procrastination rubs off on you… he is the WORST distraction and he knows it. so smug about it and uses it to his own advantage. will perch on top of you when you’re studying and kiss down your neck until you go to sleep with him. 

lives in the apartment on top of yours but is at your house most days, if not all. you ask him to move in.

“am i not already.. living with you?” 

“don’t you still have your apartment, though?”

“yeah..?”

 is that good for the economy?? is it financially smart? not at all, but he’s too lazy to move out and put his apartment up for lease. 

xavier sleeps with his legs entangled with yours and his arms wrapped tightly around your chest. the air conditioning hums in the background as you scroll mindlessly on your phone, dimming the brightness as you hear xavier stir. 

“sorry xav, did i wake you up?” you ask. he doesn’t respond, blinking the sleep out of his eyes as he glares at your phone. 

“xavier?” you question, swallowing a laugh at his ruffled hair and disheveled clothes. 

“phone down.” he says, voice raspy with sleep and an octave lower than usual. you raise an eyebrow at him. 

“can i get a pretty please in this economy?” 

xavier’s eyes narrow as he snatches your phone away, snoozing the device and placing it on the nightstand next to you. his lips ghost your neck, pressing kisses against your skin as he mumbles incoherently in the dark of your bedroom. 

“xavier-” you breathe, giggling at the sensation. “that tickles!” 

he nips at your neck. 

“bedtime. now.” 

zayne

3 years older than you 

he literally has his whole life together at 27 which scares you so much

“my credit card is your credit card” typa boyfriend

cooks. cleans. has a 9-5. you’re interning at the hospital that he works at (he’s head doctor!!)

you’re just a sweet little intern and zayne is the big bad monster!! everyone at work thinks he hates you because he’s extra strict on you. doesn’t give you any special treatment, ‘ignores’ you most days (but also slips meals into your locker and hands you heat packs on cold days in the hospital)

no one knows he’s dating you until one day someone sees you leaving in zaynes car. 

“oh, you carpool with doctor zayne?”

“huh? no, we live together.”

“you WHAT???”

he’s a virgo……. erm……

the two of you get ready together in the morning. his guard is down when he’s sleepy and he’ll cling to you as he brushes his teeth and does his hair.

you wake up to the cold night breeze, blinking the sleep out of your eyes and shivering as you scan your surroundings. you yelp as you meet the attentive gaze of your boyfriend. 

“huh? whuh? huh?” you splutter, squirming as zayne holds you tighter. he’s carrying you bridal style in his arms, his jacket around your shoulders as the two of you walk to his car. you see the bright lights of akso hospital fading away behind the two of you. 

“it’s two am,” he says calmly, placing you down gently as he opens your car door for you. “you waited for my shift to end. again.” 

you smile bashfully, rubbing the back of your head. “well, i didn’t wanna just leave you!” 

zayne clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth, eyebrows furrowed but gaze warm. he guides you into your seat, clicking your seatbelt in place. 

“you can nap on the way home,” he says, closing the door and sliding into his side of the car. 

the heater’s on already- courtesy of his super expensive electric car. he fastens his own seatbelt and hands you a hot tea and bread from the hospital vending machine. 

“drink up. doctor’s orders.” 

you grin before he leans over to press a kiss on your lips. 

“thank you for waiting for me.”

[vanscoy-diamonds]

Discover Stunning Diamond Necklaces and Pendants

Diamonds are timeless, and when it comes to necklaces and pendants, they add an unmatched elegance to any outfit. If you're looking for a diamond chain pendant set or a diamond interlocking circle necklace, Vanscoy Diamonds has an exquisite collection that will leave you mesmerized. In this blog, we'll explore the beauty and craftsmanship of these pieces and why Vanscoy Diamonds is the best place to find them.

Why Choose a Diamond Chain Pendant Set?

Timeless Elegance A diamond chain pendant set is the epitome of sophistication and elegance. It can be worn with both casual and formal attire, adding a touch of glamour to any look. At Vanscoy Diamonds, you'll find a variety of designs that cater to different tastes and preferences.

Versatility One of the greatest advantages of a diamond chain pendant set is its versatility. Whether you’re dressing up for a special occasion or adding a bit of sparkle to your everyday wear, these sets are perfect for any event.

Investment in Quality When you purchase a diamond chain pendant set from Vanscoy Diamonds, you are investing in quality. Each piece is meticulously crafted using the finest diamonds and materials, ensuring that your jewelry will stand the test of time.

The Charm of a Diamond Interlocking Circle Necklace

Symbolism A diamond interlocking circle necklace carries deep symbolism. The interlocking circles represent unity, eternity, and the endless nature of love. It's a meaningful piece that makes for a perfect gift for a loved one.

Unique Design The design of a diamond interlocking circle necklace is both modern and timeless. It adds a unique flair to any jewelry collection. Vanscoy Diamonds offers stunning options that highlight the beauty and craftsmanship of this design.

Perfect for Layering This necklace is also ideal for layering with other pieces. Whether you choose to wear it alone or pair it with other necklaces, a diamond interlocking circle necklace will enhance your look effortlessly.

Explore the Collection at Vanscoy Diamonds

Wide Range of Designs Vanscoy Diamonds boasts a diverse collection of diamond chain pendant sets and diamond interlocking circle necklaces. Their website, Vanscoy Diamonds, showcases an array of options that cater to different styles and preferences.

Customization Options If you have a specific design in mind, Vanscoy Diamonds offers customization services. Work with their expert jewelers to create a piece that is uniquely yours. This service ensures that you get exactly what you envision.

Exceptional Craftsmanship The craftsmanship at Vanscoy Diamonds is second to none. Each piece is created with precision and attention to detail, ensuring that every diamond is perfectly set and every design is flawlessly executed.

Caring for Your Diamond Jewelry

Regular Cleaning To maintain the sparkle of your diamond chain pendant set and diamond interlocking circle necklace, it’s essential to clean them regularly. Use a soft brush and mild soapy water to gently clean your jewelry.

Proper Storage Store your diamond jewelry in a soft pouch or a jewelry box to prevent scratches and damage. Keeping them in a dry place also helps maintain their brilliance.

Professional Maintenance Periodically, have your diamond jewelry inspected and maintained by a professional jeweler. Vanscoy Diamonds offers maintenance services to ensure that your jewelry remains in pristine condition.

Conclusion 

When it comes to finding the perfect diamond chain pendant set or diamond interlocking circle necklace, Vanscoy Diamonds is your go-to destination. Their extensive collection, exceptional craftsmanship, and commitment to quality make them the ideal choice for all your diamond jewelry needs. Visit their website, Vanscoy Diamonds, to explore their stunning pieces and add a touch of elegance to your jewelry collection.