#kafka fluff

[crguang]

just one taste

morning quickie with kafka because we all deserve it <3

gn!reader, smut, service top!reader, power bottom!kafka (HEAR ME OUTTTT), fluffy fluff, oral sex, 3k words

A/N: i could’ve made this so pathetic and yearnful but i spared you all because it’s already disgustingly cute.

“Keep those off,” you gesture groggily to your own eyes with a finger, brows furrowed in a sleepy daze, and Kafka pauses in front of the mirror, “and come here.”

You run a hand over your face as Kafka smiles in amusement from her seat at her makeup vanity. You turn to the digital clock on her bedside with narrowed eyes and the glaring numbers it displays offend you. It’s 6:27 in the morning, sun rays paint the bed sheets in soft colors and you force yourself to sit up against the pillows. Kafka glances to where your shirt rises up your stomach when you stretch your arms above your head, uninterested in your personal battle with consciousness as you rub the sleep out of your face. The bridge of your nose scrunches up comically with a yawn and hours of moving around has messed up your hair, there’s a small pimple growing near your hairline that you’ll undoubtedly scowl at later and yet Kafka finds all these mundanities beautiful. How silly.

“Why?”

She places the contact lens back into its case and rests an elbow on the vanity table, her cheek in her palm and fondness in her gaze reflected by the morning light.

You frown at the question like the answer is as obvious as the blue in the sky. “Because I want to see you; it’s too early to hide. Why are you still over there?”

She only smiles at your reasoning. “I have to pick up something before the mission.”

“Do it later.”

Kafka sighs in pretend exasperation and rises to her feet. She’s fully dressed in her usual attire save for her lack of shoes and her steps are silent as she makes her way to the bed.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” she teases.

The mattress dips where her knee sinks into it. You scoot over a little to create some space and Kafka falls back onto the covers. You waste no time in laying your cheek on her chest and wrapping your arm around her waist. You sigh as your thigh lodges itself between hers. A hand gently strokes your hair almost instantly afterwards. It would’ve been easy to fall back asleep this way, but once you’ve fully woken up it’s always an inner struggle to return to that state of peaceful unconsciousness. Kafka’s an early riser, so she’s careful not to disturb you when she slips out of bed to get ready for the day; she’s generally silent in all she does, anyway.

You welcome the stillness of the morning and the quiet of the room as you bask in her touch. In a few hours she will have to leave with Blade to complete another part of Elio’s script and her presence has been fickle as is. You have your own missions to complete, with and without some of the other Stellaron Hunters. Time isn’t often on your side so you cherish these moments where everything is light; the rising sunshine, her fingers through your hair or under your shirt, your tranquil heart. Kafka loves to act like she’s indulging you, sighs and reluctantly complies as if you’re forcing her hand, when the truth is much simpler. It was funny and endearingly charming the first time she held you close to her chest and you felt the drumming of her heart, quick as one of her bullets. You enjoy how guarded she is because you get to unravel her like a present, and what’s hiding within those colorful layers is someone so easily understood.

You lift your head to look at her, chin resting between her breasts, and meet her eyes. Without her contacts they reveal what she would rather stay away from sight. She’s even prettier up close. Kafka raises a questioning brow when you fail to contain a smile.

“It’s nothing,” you softly shake your head. Kafka’s free fingers slowly trail down your earlobe to your jaw.

“You’re such an open book,” she says with a small smile, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah?”

She hums. Her round nails scratch your cheek. “Too open for your own good.”

You know why she has those walls around her; knowledge is power and the less others know about her, the bigger her advantage. A sensible reasoning, but you find it exhausting and unnecessary. Being connected to your feelings doesn’t make you irrational and has never hindered your competences as a Stellaron Hunter. Her ability to get under people’s skin while revealing none of her intentions does make Kafka an exceptional poker player, though. You still owe her two thousand credits.

“Should I hide my emotions like you do?”

“No. This is how I like you, after all.”

“Oh, you like me?” You drawl teasingly and your grin widens when Kafka rolls her eyes. She pinches your cheek with two fingers.

“Sometimes.”

Using a hand on the bed to steady yourself, you lift your body to hover over hers. The hand in your hair descends to rest on your waist, squeezing once. You glance at her peach colored lips and watch the way they stretch further into a knowing smirk. When your gaze flicks back to hers, you lean a little closer.

“You know…” you trail off, “…I think I like you too.”

“‘That so?”

You nod. Kafka cups your jaw and rubs the skin with a forefinger. There’s a familiar glimmer in her eye as she speaks.

“How much?”

You don’t expect the question, so you pause for a few seconds. Kafka revels in catching you off guard, it makes her feel powerful in a way you don’t entirely understand. She awaits your reply, raising an eyebrow at your silence.

“I don’t know,” you finally answer pensively, looking away as you think. “Nothing of what we’ve gone through so far has tested the limits of how I feel for you.”

“How you feel for me, huh?”

“Mmm. When I look at you, I see the ocean.”

Your home planet had begun suffering the effects of a Stellaron long before you were born, turning most of it into a dry desert. You’d heard of the long, flowing rivers and gentle lakes growing up and those were just made up images in your mind for a long time. The sea was an even bigger myth, harder to picture because of its boundless proportions; it was impossible to imagine thousands of miles of water and depths no one could explore. You still remember the slow blinks of Kafka’s eyes when you admitted it to her years ago after she’d mentioned it in a sentence. The first time you saw the ocean, her hand was in yours. You stood, wide-eyed and speechless at the limitless expanses of royal blue, with the wind in your ears and grains of sand between your toes. You felt small, insignificant in a way that filled you with relief. In front of something so grand, you could be anything and it wouldn’t matter. Kafka’s open gaze was on you as the waves crashed to the shore like she was looking at the sea through your eyes and drinking in your wonderment. When you turned to her with parted lips, you felt breathless in the exact same way.

Kafka’s mask doesn’t crack but without the contacts she can’t hide the way her pupils dilate a few millimeters at your easy confession. Her mouth is frozen in that usual smile, the fingers on your skin have stopped moving, and you grin when you realize she’s so surprised she doesn’t know what to say. She’s quick to regain her composure though.

She effortlessly brings you closer and her breath fans over your lips when she replies, “Cute. I was expecting something better, though.”

“You’re such a fucking liar—“

Kafka cuts you off with a longing kiss and the rest of your sentence dies in your throat. You taste her lipstick as her mouth presses to yours and the hand on your waist gives it another squeeze. Her lips part to deepen the kiss, her tongue softly meets yours, leaving you breathless. You’re reduced to putty above her and she’s aware of it. Slow, languid kisses have a way of softening your bones and making you light until you’re like an inflating balloon drifting through space. With only the movement of her mouth, you forget everything that’s happened prior. Her kiss is the river Lethe and you are made anew with each one pressed to your lips.

You chase her lips when she pulls away and a short chuckle sounds from her throat. The hand around your jaw grips it tighter, keeping you in place.

“What is it you were saying?” She asks playfully, eyes flickering between yours.

“I really don’t care.” You pout when you try to lean forward and fail due to her hold on you. “Let me kiss you.”

“Ask nicely.”

“Please let me kiss you.”

“That doesn’t sound like a question.”

You swallow a whine and take a breath. “Can you please fucking kiss m—“

Her fingers suddenly squish your cheeks, making your entire face scrunch and your words incomprehensible. You look like a fish as she hums disapprovingly.

“I’m not sure I like this filthy little mouth of yours. Try again.”

She releases you. You smile sweetly.

“Can I kiss you, please?”

Your stomach tightens at the satisfaction on her face. She brings you closer a second time and plants an indulging kiss on your mouth. A sigh almost escapes you at the feel of her. You let her lead, happy to be along for the ride. The hand on your waist slips under your shirt to trail up your back and press you further against her body. The pace quickens a touch as she caresses your skin and you refuse to pull away for air until you feel the intoxicating pounding of your brain inside your skull.

You’re in a daze when you separate from her lips and exhale sharply through your nose. Her pretty lipstick is smudged from your kiss; the sight fuels the lustful embers in your belly. Kafka doesn’t protest as you press kisses across her jaw, just sinks her fingers into your hair with an amused chuckle. Your mouth follows a nonlinear pattern on her face, from the skin of her jaw to the apple of her cheeks, on the bridge of her nose and the corner of her eye. You wish to kiss every inch of her until you can map her body with only your mouth. It’s easy to lose yourself in her as she welcomes your affection with breathless kisses against your lips.

You only pull away to adjust your position over her, thighs on each side of her hips and back arched as you bend to kiss her once more. One of your hands is planted on the bed to support yourself while the other fiddles with the straps of her shirt for a minute before you make a noise of frustration into Kafka’s mouth and raise your upper body in order to properly see the buckles of her outfit. They’re easier to unfasten with both hands.

“Someone’s needy…” Kafka’s eyes narrow in amusement at your unsteady manipulation of her clothes. She simply watches your struggle for a moment.

You stop fiddling with her clothes to lean in and press a few kisses into her neck. Her head tilts to allow you better access and you take that opportunity to graze your teeth against the skin near her jawline, not quite marking it because she’ll be leaving soon and won’t have time to cover herself up.

“We have time, right?” You mumble into her neck, tongue darting out to lick at her skin. “I really want you…”

Kafka glances at the digital clock on the nightstand and turns back to you with a daring smile. “If you’re quick.”

You nod quickly and that pulls another quiet laugh out of her as you move to unclasp the button of her high-waisted shorts in record time. Your hands sneak under her shirt to feel the plane of her stomach. You lean in for a kiss as they travel up her torso and squeeze her breasts over her bra. Fingers slip under the offending garment to replace the padded cups with your palms, and a hum reverberates through Kafka’s chest when you swipe a thumb over her nipple. You keep her mouth busy with needy kisses, tongue swirling around hers. You pinch her hardening nipples in the way she likes, roughly and when she least expects it, and you’re rewarded with a soft sigh against your lips.

If you had the time, you would have been patient and fondled her chest until it flushed under a thin layer of sweat. You would have brought your mouth to her nipples, grazed your teeth over their sensitive tips and suckled them until Kafka’s exhales could be heard. You don’t have the time, so you settle for applying pressure on them in tight circles until they feel like the pink marbles she keeps in a box on her vanity. One of your hands abandon her chest to slip into her unbuttoned shorts.

“Wanna taste you,” you mutter into her mouth as you feel the thin fabric of her underwear. Your middle finger rubs her sex over the material and it sinks effortlessly between her lips. “Please?”

“Mm…” Kafka places two hands on your shoulders and nudges you firmly down her body. “Go ahead, baby.”

You straighten up to slide the clothes past her hips and down her legs until they’re pooling at her ankles. You trail open-mouthed kisses up her thighs as you settle between them, occasionally biting and sucking the soft flesh, leaving behind already fading bruises. The dark reds match her hair color, you notice.

Kafka’s fingers tangle comfortably in your hair. She guides you to where she wants you the most and you use two fingers to spread her slick lips apart, almost moaning at the sight of her so ready for your mouth. You kiss around her cunt, then remember that you’re on a clock and lick a long stripe up her slit. You hum in pleasure at her tangy taste as your tongue teases the base of her clit. Kafka sighs above you, long and drawn out. Her clit pulses on your tongue when you take it between your lips and suck. Your fingers explore between her folds in a sensual massage that only makes her wetter, and it feels like a reward the moment her thighs close in around your head. You lap up her cunt like a thirsty kitten, reveling in her quiet moans and hums. You flick your tongue up and down her slit, greedily swallowing her arousal.

“Mm…” Kafka doesn’t muffle her appreciation, the hand in your hair pushing you closer to her cunt until the tip of your nose tickles her clit. Her hips begin to follow the pace of your tongue. Her voice is an amused drawl as she speaks, “You’re like a— ah— an eager little puppy…”

You can’t help the whine that escapes you as you squeeze your thighs together, and Kafka chuckles at the sound only for it to shift into a soft moan when your middle finger pushes inside her cunt. You steadily pump the digit into her, feeling her walls clench around you. Your lips and chin are coated in her slick and you bring your attention back to her puffy clit, swirling your tongue around the bud until Kafka’s thighs squeeze your ears, a silent request to give her more. You add a finger inside of her and curl the digits to graze the spot that makes her curse. A glance upwards shows Kafka’s features twisting in pleasure, lips parting. She’s beautiful like this, and you wish you could see the way her bare breasts rise and fall with each breath.

“Oh…”

You know she’s close to the edge when her cunt sucks in your fingers and her clit throbs in your mouth. You flatten your tongue to swallow more of her arousal and let her grind her pussy further into you. Kafka isn’t shy or ashamed, her throaty moans excite you and only incite you to make her feel as good as you can. The coil in your stomach tightens when she traps your head with her thighs, uncaring of whether you have difficulty breathing or not. She’s drunk on her own pleasure and her free hand snakes under her shirt to pinch her nipple, building her orgasm until you feel her cunt squeeze your fingers like a vice. Her hips stutter a couple times and with a hard suck on her clit, Kafka comes into your mouth. You’re surrounded by her, your senses can recognize only her taste and her smell and the harmonious sounds of her moans as she bucks against you. You help her ride the waves of her orgasm with the flat of your tongue against her folds.

Kafka takes in a deep breath as her high slowly fades away and her hips settle back onto the bed. You clean her up with soft kitten licks and the fondness in her gaze while she looks down at you makes you want to eat her out until she can’t control the tremble in her thighs. Her short nails scrap your scalp for a moment, then she uses the grip in your hair to pull you away from her cunt. She brings your face close to hers with a teasing smile and sloppily kisses the pout off your lips.

“Look at that,” she breathes out when you pull away and glance at the shiny pinks of her lips, “you made it with some time to spare.”

Kafka matches your growing grin and pulls you into another messy, sticky kiss. Somehow, she makes it out of the bedroom in time and is ready to set off for the Xianzhou Luofu with Blade exactly as Elio foresaw it. If he notices the spring in her step, he doesn’t say a word.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

A/N ::: Yeah. So, apparently, I go weeks without writing more than a comment or 2 and in the span of less than 12 hours this is my second piece about Kafka Hibino. What can I say but my god, I love him.

C/W ::: NONE! This is pure, sweet fluffy fluff fluff fluff. Brief mention of physical affection (& an even more brief mention of a roll in the hay.) No language. Nothing. Zip. Zilch. Nada.

WC ::: 433 (RIGHT!!!!!?????)

Kafka Hibino is the kind of man who …

💀 Gives you the last bite of his dessert. Even if - especially if - it was his favorite. He loves that you love it as much as he does. 

💀 Lets you take a shower first, so he doesn't use all of the hot water up. 

💀 Sets the alarm on his watch/cell 15 minutes before your alarm is set to go off so he can slowly and gently kiss you awake. But there's a catch, sometimes, if you have the day off and he works, you do that for him so he can wake up nicely without the jolt of vibrations startling him first thing. 

💀 Absolutely adores when you touch him of your own volition. Unprompted affection from you - be it a kiss, a hug, a smack on his cute behind, a pat on his belly, even a flick on his arm - is something he will never tire of. 

💀 Throws your clothes/towels in the dryer for you in the wintertime so they're warm for you when you put them on. 

💀 Pulls the covers back on your side of the bed every night and throws them back up every morning. 

💀 Makes sure the coffee is set the night before. And if for some freak reason he forgets? Well, he's the kind of man to run to your favorite coffee place and get your drink of choice. 

💀 Pays attention to hints you drop. About ANYTHING. Something as simple as what you want for dinner. If you're in the mood for a romp in the sheets. If there's an article of clothing you've been eyeing. A new place you want to eat at. A new shampoo. It doesn’t matter how ridiculous it might seem. If you’re interested, he’s interested. 

💀 Makes sure the toilet paper is always stocked and facing the right way. 

💀 Pulls your seat out when you're eating at a restaurant. A fancy place or a cheap little diner. 

💀 Listens intently to you when you talk about your day. If it was good, he will celebrate the little win(s) with you. If it was bad, he will pull you up onto his lap and hold you until you feel you've vented enough that you can be let go of. (Newsflash, you never want him to let go of you and chances are, he won’t want to either.)

💀 Feels so lucky that you love him. He wasn't bad off or anything, but he definitely had his moments of loneliness. 

💀 Doesn't ever plan on letting you go. 

@supersecretsaga @darkstarlight82 @katkusuo

@arlerts-angel @bakubunny @kazutora-kurokawa

@reiners-milkbiddies @southside-otaku @trevengersprincess

[delirious-donna]

Don’t Ever Let Me Go [Kafka Hibino]

an: Kafka finds the sight of you in his clothes all too alluring. He’s never shied away from showing you how he feels, and he isn’t going to start now…

pairing: Kafka Hibino x female reader

warnings: suggestive, lots of kissing and touching, slightly possessive Kafka, a little body worship, I held back on being too smutty with this (mistake?)

Masterlist

The evening had been a long and boring one, the hours after clocking off shift spent in an attempt to find some solace in your favourite pastimes. However, no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t silence your brain long enough to drift into relaxation. Your latest book lay discarded on the floor by your bed, a crochet plushie unfinished on your desk and a pen stuck between the pages of your journal. What you really needed was the presence of a certain someone. Someone you had been thinking about the best part of the day, and who was currently occupied by private training with the Vice-Captain.

Hoshina had been far from subtle when you had passed the pair of them earlier in the evening, clapping Kafka forcefully on the back and winking in your direction. “Don’t you worry, I’ll send him back to you in one piece. Well… mostly one piece.”

Oh, how your cheeks had burned. He was a menace alright, one that continued to delight in the relationship between you and the newest recruit, Kafka Hibino. You sighed; a dreamy noise accompanied by a lopsided grin. Just the thought of him made your insides squirm. You had never met someone like him, he was a ridiculous goofball of a man but his heart—oh goodness, his heart—it was so pure and caring.

Surely that was the reason that he had been kept on by the Defense Force after discovering his secret, one that had stolen your breath when you finally realised. Things suddenly made so much sense, and whilst he had worried you wouldn’t want anything to do with him anymore, he couldn’t have been further from the truth.

You loved him, not that you had admitted it yet.

The sound of footsteps caught your attention, the low buzz of music from your little retro radio clicked to a stop as you near bounded towards the door. You interrupted the series of soft knocks that echoed quietly, pulling your dorm room door open wide. Of course, you already knew who it was. The hour struck midnight and if it wasn’t Kafka standing on the other side of the door, you would eat your hat.

Dark hair, damp from exertion and the quick shower you could smell on his skin greeted you, along with that wide sunshine smile that never failed to make your heart race and your stomach quiver. One second you were grinning up at your handsome boyfriend and the next your feet were off the ground, trapped in a massive bear hug as he swung you around and around.

“Kafka!!” You squealed out, beating at his bare shoulders with light fists.

“Put me down, you animal!” you demanded through thinly veiled laughter. In truth, you’d be happy to stay like this for as long as he could hold your not so insignificant weight. It was impossible not to feel desired when his eyes resembled cartoonish beating hearts and the rumbling noise from his chest which sounded like a giant cat purring.

His tongue clicked playfully against his teeth whilst he contemplated whether to comply or not but finally—finally—your feet met solid ground and Kafka prowled deeper into your room to throw himself atop your neatly made bed with a chuckle.

You stood, frozen to the spot, as his turquoise eyes took you in from head to toe and back again. Those near green irises narrowed, his head cocked to the side and a finger scratched at the scruff decorating his chin whilst he assessed you. Your plan was working… not that you were trying to lure him into a trap, you wouldn’t do that. You were a good girl… right?

“What’s different?” He mused aloud, a look of confusion clouding his adorable features until it was replaced with the spark of dawning comprehension and a smirk quivered the edges of his mouth.

Kafka sat up abruptly, scooting to the edge of the bed and reaching out to grab your wrist. He gently coaxed you to stand between his spread thighs. You felt naked beneath his gaze, the clothes on your body might well have not been there, except you could feel your nipples harden behind the cotton of your sleep top.

“Where did you get these, babe?” His finger trailed across the black cotton of his boxers that graced your lower half, sending shivers coursing up your spine and a tightness to well up in your belly. He continued to toy with the thick waistband of the underwear, shoving your top up and out of the way for his attention.

“Well… I might’ve stolen them from your drawer the last time I spent the night,” you admitted in a shy whisper.

“That right?” He hummed; his voice deeper than it had been a moment ago. “Surprised Reno didn’t catch you in the act.”

“I was sneaky, don’t worry. You need your own dorm and soon. I know I wouldn’t want to room with a teen if I could help it.” You gave a small pout, reminded of the times you both had been almost caught in precarious scenarios, always able to save your dignity and grace at the last second but your luck was sure to run out soon.

“Hm. I’ve got good news for you then.” His eyes sparkled as he looked up at you, his forked eyebrows wiggling in a way that made you giggle through the eruption of butterflies in your belly.

“Really? Hoshina finally pulled some strings? About damn time.”

Kafka nodded, resting his chin against the soft swell of your stomach, rubbing his chin scruff back and forth. Your fingers delved through the thick forest of black hair, twisting around his roots and tugging with a gasp caught in your throat. It only spurred him on, pressing warm, wet kisses to the bare skin he continued to reveal, nipping at the curve of your waist down to your hips.

“Enough about that, we can talk about it later. These look good on you, so good I might just bust in my pants. Now c’mere, you’re not close enough.”

Without further warning he knocked your equilibrium askew, using your imbalance to pull you down onto his lap. His mouth was on you before you could even think to playfully scold him, hands on your hips and guiding you into a languid roll whilst he tasted you thoroughly. Minty toothpaste pushed onto your tongue, mellowed by the sweet taste of some treat he had likely devoured on his way to you.

You were hot all over, ignited by his roaming touch and the unabashed moans that flooded your mouth. This was a part of the reason you loved him as deeply as you did, the unashamed way he displayed his love and attraction. Kafka was not afraid to be seen in a vulnerable light, never shying away from giving you moon eyes even when you were both meant to be on duty. It drew teasing from your comrades but none of it was serious.

When his hand moved to between your spread thighs, your knees squeezed around his hips in reaction, bucking your sex against his palm in an act of pure self-indulgence. You could feel him tent beneath you, his loose grey sweats no longer quite as loose, his erection bumping the inside of your thigh and a stain growing from what you knew would be thick pearls of precum. It made you lick your lips, messy strands of saliva breaking from where they connected you to the man turning you into a limp noodle.

“Kafka… what’re you doing to me?”

His hand worked through the fly on the boxer briefs, the rough pads of his fingers spreading you open so he could circle around your clit, teasing you without directly touching it.

“I don’t know what you mean, baby. I’ve just got my hand in my pants.” He snickered when you smacked his bicep, groaning when he collected your slick and spread it over the heat of your cunt.

“Fuck—yeah that’s it. Work that gorgeous pussy on my hand,” he growled, lunging for your neck like a man possessed and licking fat strips over your throbbing pulse.

It wasn’t long before he had worked you into a frenzy, helping you grind against the ridge running along his thumb and keening for more. Kafka needed no encouragement to pull free his cock, fisting it loosely whilst you watched before he was feeding the length through the space his hand had occupied. Precum stained your mound, his impressive length sawing through your sticky folds and catching against the tight entrance of your cunt.

“—you can’t… oh fuck me, Kafka! Need you to fuck me,” you half whined half yelped as he decided to sink his teeth into you at that exact moment.

Kafka growled around his mouthful of your throat, licking over the hurt only to move to a new spot and start all over again. He was close to losing it, tight pressure building in his heavy balls as they drew close to the base of his cock.

“You’re gonna keep these on for me, sweetheart, even when they’re sticky and filled with both our cum.”

And you did, much to Kafka’s delight.

[chiara-hotel]

𝒞𝒶𝓂𝓅𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝒽𝑒 𝓈𝓉𝑒𝓁𝓁𝒶𝓇𝑜𝓃 𝒽𝓊𝓃𝓉𝑒𝓇𝓈!

Characters: Kafka, Blade & Silver Wolf

Warnings: N/A

Spoilers: N/A

Please read the updated version here:

——————————————————————————

Synopsis: The current mission you guys are on requires an overnight stay. Kafka finds a nice location by a lake for you all to camp. Whats it kind camping with them?

- Kafka starts the night off by cooking dinner for the 4 of you, depending on your diet she’ll cook whatever anyone wants. Of course that also requires setting up the table you guys brought & finding ingredients either in the car or in the wild. Even if you are missing a bit of meat Kafka wouldn’t mind going hunting for a snack anyway.

- After the campfire is put up Kafka tells lots of scary stories, hoping you’ll get scared later in the night. Silver Wolf gets scared by stone of them and blade doesn’t get scared at all. Kafka loves making smores though!

- During the nighttime, shes sleeping peacefully in her solo tent, not a single sound to be heard. She might get up around 3am just to talk a walk, if you’re awake Kafka will gladly invite you to join her.

- Blade helps Kafka set up the campsite at first. Later he goes to stare off into his own world. If needed, he wouldn’t mind if you bothered him to do something whether its a board game, a walk or forcing him to play video games with you & Silver, he’d join.

- During the campfire he also remains fairly silent & only tells one scary story after you and Kafka force him too. Blade doesn’t make any smores

- Out if everyone he goes to sleep the earliest. Depending on how close you are with him you guys might share a tent or not, but make sure you don’t wake him up as you enter later on.

- Silver doesn’t have anything to do while Kafka makes dinner, although after dinner she gets the campfire ready for smores & scary stories. During the night she also manages to make the most amount of snores.

- At night she’s staying up until 3-4 playing video games. If you’re up and can’t sleep she’ll invite you to play along aswell. At 4 she decides she does need at least some hours of sleep since it’s also a very early start for tomorrows mission.

[varesai]

hello hello! for the reqs, how about helping kafka get ready for one of those fancier missions? just some sweet intimacy (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

FANCY! - kafka x reader

- helping kafka get ready for a more fancy mission.

- I LOVE TJIS GN. i'm so crazy about kafka i need her to have a rerun rn!!!!! anywayssss this request is so fluffy i love it sm. thank u anon, and enjoy!!

- slight mentions of murder and theft, besides that pure fluff. wc 970

It was, once again, time for Kafka to leave off for a mission.

You’ve gotten used to this schedule, but you got to keep her a little later today. She didn’t have to be at the banquet hall until 9:00 at night, giving you two the whole day. When the clock hit around 8:00, she hurried into your shared room to put on her dress of choice. 

It was a plum colored dress, very similar to her hair. Instead of the updo her hair was usually in, she decided to leave it down, but she wanted help styling it while she did her makeup.

“Dearest, would you come here?” She called, your footsteps taking you from the other room into the bedroom.

“Yeah? What's up?” You asked, tossing your phone onto the plush bed before standing behind her. “That dress is gorgeous. Suits you well.”

She smiled. “Thank you. I just need help styling my hair for tonight. I don’t know if it should be flat-ironed or curled.”

You hummed, going into the bathroom to grab some supplies. You grabbed both the curling iron and the flat iron, taking some heat protectant so her luscious hair doesn’t fry. 

“How does flat ironing sound? I think it’ll look nice with the dress style. Pair it with some gold eyeshadow and gold jewelry, too,” you stated, running your hands through her hair, applying heat protectant.

She nodded, applying a light coat of foundation while keeping her eye on the time. “Straightening it sounds fine. I barely do it, anyways.”

So you got to work, taking fine care of each strand and going over them a couple times to make the look perfect. She was applying makeup, occasionally chatting with you about little things, or joking about her look. 

You were going over her hair a second time, making sure that all ends and pieces were not missed. 

“So, what's this mission even about anyways? Or is it top-secret?” You smiled, lightly prying. “I won’t tell a soul about it, I swear on my whole life.”

She giggled, looking at you through the mirror. “Jail worthy, as usual. But I won’t get caught. It’s to steal a jewel that Elio needs and wrote in the script. I know exactly how to be successful.”

You nodded. “As long as you don’t kill too many people… but anyways, who’s going with you this time? This seems too nice to have Silver Wolf assist you. Is it solo, or is Blade going with you?”

“Just Bladie. He’s going to be there for a distraction, anyways. I’ll throw him in the middle so everyone will pay attention to him,” she joked, pulling a laugh from you. “But, in all seriousness, he’s necessary to complete the job.”

You were still paying attention to her hair, careful not to leave any strand under the heat for too long. 

“Which gold would look better? The one from this pallet, or this one?” She held out two pallets, one with a more glittery gold, and one that’s a lighter, more toned down version that doesn’t have all of the sparkles. You took another look at her dress before picking which one would look the nicest. 

She nodded, applying the shade of choice. You liked times like this- times where you both could be with each other without conflict waiting to arise, times where she’s not trying to keep away from bounty hunters, and times where there's no tension or anxiety coursing through her veins. This was a moment of peace, where you could both drop your worries and relax for even just a few minutes (in this case, a system hour). 

“Finished! How do you like your hair?” You stepped back, shutting the flat iron off and unplugging it from the side of the wall. She ran her hands through the strands, nodding in approval before smiling at herself through the mirror. 

“It looks nice. It goes well with the dress style. Good call.”

You smiled, happy that she likes the look. You put everything back, allowing her to finish up her makeup. 

When you re-entered the room, you pulled out a couple pairs of high heels for her to pick from. There were varieties of colors- white, nude, silver, gold, black, you name it. She stood up, looking over the selection.

“If you’re going to wear gold jewelry, and you have gold eye makeup on, wear the gold pair of heels. Trust me, it will balance out everything just perfectly!” You advised. You sounded so passionate, leaving a gentle smile painted on the stellaron hunters face. She picked the heels up and put them on, spinning around in the mirror to make sure they fit nicely and feel good to walk in. 

You took some jewelry out of the jewelry box, presenting her with a couple of nice gold necklaces and rings, topped off with a pair of pretty earrings that match the same theme. She chose one of the necklaces and two rings, sliding the rings on and having you put the necklace on. She put the earrings on before toying with her hair, throwing it over her shoulders to hang off her head, spilling onto her back. 

“You’re beautiful, Kafka,” you mumbled, in slight awe of how gorgeous she looked right now. She giggled. “Thank you, dear. I wish you could come with, but it’s too dangerous. I wouldn’t want to risk you being kidnapped, hurt, or killed.”

You nodded, sitting down on the bed. The time hit 8:45, and she walked over to you.

“I better head out now, but I should be back by tomorrow morning,” She said, smiling. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Kafka,” you replied, giving her a long kiss on the lips before escorting her out the door.

[theaquamarinearchives]

[ a day in the sun ― albedo & kafka ] "happy birthday, my love. may the sun shine in the sky only for you on this day - shall we take a walk?"cw. gn!reader, fluff, modern!au, established relationships, reader wears dresses, petnames (dear, baby), just some sickly sweet fluff overall, ooc kafka

aquamarine's findings. happy birthday to my dearest little dove, @heiayen !! i hope this day proves to be fruitful and kind to you. you deserve the world !! ♡

with the sun shining bright in a seemingly endless blue sky and spring in full bloom, ALBEDO had plenty of ideas for this special day - it was just his hardest decision deciding which one to go with or even more so, creating an itinerary just for you. unfortunately for him the moment klee had found it your birthday was approaching, she begged him to let her in on the plans. you truly are adored by that small girl.

your toes sink into fine grains of sand, warm beneath your steps with two blondes at your side. one is bouncing, her small hand grasping yours as she tries to tug you along the length of the beach. in her spare hand is a melting ice lolly you wish she would pay a few seconds more attention to now that it's starting to drip down her hand.

the other blond somehow can't contain the small smile on his face as he watches the pair of you, the way you're laughing and yet still sending worried glances at klee's ice lolly. he can imagine the sticky mess that she's going to create the moment she reaches for something - or someone - with that hand later.

"klee, give them a break or you'll hurt their arm," your lover tries to reason with the excited child who - at the prospect of hurting you - quickly lets go of your hand to run ahead, squealing as she kicks up sand, "are you okay, dear? she can be overwhelming."

"how often do you bring her to the beach? she acts like she's never seen it in her life." you find yourself musing as the young girl crouches down to inspect something. your curiosity peeks, wandering to crouch with her as you tilt your head. albedo watches the pair of you in intrigue, the way you are both tilting your heads like confused puppies.

albedo refrains from attempting to defend his little sister's overexcited actions and instead peers to see what has got the two of you in awe. a pile of neatly collected seashells in an array of shapes and colours, embedded into the sand. klee gasps, a chubby finger pointed at a particular pastel purple seashell and you also let out an excited noise - albeit a little quiet.

his blue eyes soften, that small smile from earlier widening on his face as mid-length blond locks tickle his eyelashes, the sea breeze drifting through them and creating an even more messy appearance. no matter how long he's been dating you, he can't seem to stop admiring you. his eyes dance over how the breeze carries your hair and the pretty summer dress you decided to wear for today, how your jewellery compliments every aspect of your outfit... how did he get so lucky?

he almost chuckles at his thoughts, his cheeks warming considerably and he wonders if he could blame the weather should klee's keen eyes notice. the artist is undeniably in love with you, after all you're the source material of a lot of his works now. he's familiar with your every crevice and detail, familiar with painting them delicately onto his canvas.

he wouldn't change that for the world when your sparkling eyes return to him, a happy smile on his face as you hold up a seashell to him, exclaiming excitedly as you fawn over something so simple and yet so treasurable.

━

you knew very well how your girlfriend's job worked and whilst you never interfered, you wished sometimes that she could spare you a glimpse of time outside of what her boss' 'scripts' leave you with. that's not to say she was a bad partner - oh no. regardless of that slightly insufferable teasing attitude she has, the one she always brings to the table in a light-hearted manner, you knew KAFKA loved you. perhaps more than she's willing to convey with words.

kafka follows her scripts intricately, never missing a detail right up until the last second. these control her days, creating schedules upon schedules she's never faltered to argue against nor break the habit. yet she fails to tell you that in the days leading up to your birthday, she'd been very much planning to do just that.

"you look beautiful," she chimes when you enter the lounge, pausing in your steps when your eyes meet hers. she quirks a brow, amused by the way your eyes widen in surprise, "what is it, baby?"

you squint, hesitant to approach your girlfriend - what did she have in mind? what was going on? usually at this hour, the shared house you live in together was filled with the melodic sounds of kafka's classical music and in turn, her own violin. slowly, your confusion regarding the silence of the house settles in as to why your girlfriend was here and not in her study.

"did you forget your own birthday?" kafka raises to her feet, shaking her head as a light laugh escapes her lips, "oh dear, we can't be having that - definitely not today."

the woman saunters closer to you, slim hands drifting over the curves of your body in that sundress as she smiles coyly, eyes glinting in the reflection of the sun through the open window. there was never any telling what your girlfriend had planned, with the woman being exceptional at keeping her schemes concealed and hidden safely in her mind. oh, how you'd pay to be inside her mind for a mere day.

"of course i didn't," you pout, awkwardly avoiding her gaze as she presses her forehead to yours. her hands settle on your hips, a hum coming from her chest as she examines your behaviour, "you're not-"

"in my study?" she cuts you off, finishing off your thoughts as your eyes snap up to meet hers again. they're glittering, filled with mirth and amusement as her fingers tap at your hips, shaking her head before she presses a soft kiss to your lips. it's demanding despite how soft it is, her grip on your waist tightening if only for a few seconds.

when you pull away for a moment of air, kafka hums yet again and straightens up, taking hold of your hand in her gloved one. the feel of leather sends a shiver down your spine, contrasting to the cared-for hands beneath them. the ones you knew were very much soft, gentle, smooth - and they knew your body equally as much, every inch and fibre of your being.

"the sun's out and i intend to spend this day in it - with you so come on. we're going on a walk and later you can choose dinner. today, elio's scripts are off the table."

the archives' notifications. @bisexuawolfsalt, @lovingluxury, @auroratumbles, @ryuryuryuyurboat, @soleillunne

@zamorazz, @zworllyx

© theaquamarinearchives 2024 ; reblogs appreciated. do not re-upload, translate, etc. my works on any platforms or feed any of my works to ai.

[kittenmittenmeowchu]

Don't sleep mad

―✧˖° Comfort, fluff, cuddling and sleeping

―✧˖° No smut. Kafka is oc.. probably?? idkkk pls don't think of me as weird..

―✧˖° Just for fun..

Its been hours since kafka left, you wonder when she's coming back but right as you thought of that you hear the entrance door open and close. You hide under the sheets from the cold, waiting for her.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

Moonlight veiled throughout the room, giving a soft dim effect to the humble abode. Mirrors and metalics shone against the veiling glow, cushions showing it’s colors with the tint of blue-ish bloom and wooden legs of heavy funiture continued to stand without fail to it’s purpose.

The door creaks open without warning , letting another light unvail to the peaceful room. Stood to the door frame, Kafka walks in. she Leans against the door, clacking as it closed.

The blankets on the bed shuffles when you peek out to see Kafka and you notice, Her hand holds a half empty glass with wine and the other on the knob, you heard a little click of her locking the door.

Kafka's head turns staring at yours, whilst paving her way to the side of the bed. The wine lifted , she took the a sip before the glass glowed from the moonlight.

Lowering the glowing glass, Kafka ruffles your hair, her other hand bringing weight to the bed, she lifts the rest and joined you under the sheets.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

She pressed your wrists together, placed above your head, her nose an inching from yours.

Her lips bend to a playful smirk eyeing down on your poutful expression.

"oh come on, don't look at me like that, it's not like I knew it was there.."

Brows furrow and eyes narrow, but you let it go when she pressed a thumb to where your frown crinkled. Originally, she planned to continue where you two left off, but with your mood like that, how could she?

So she ends up making another solution.

"I'll only use your lips. I won't do more mkay?"

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

There were gentle heaves on blankets in sync to the sound of slow breathing ,the cusion beneath having heavy weight to where warmth laid. strands of hair lightly shift to share scent with the skin brushing through, it's nails trail the scalp with gentle care.

"Mnhh... "

A bruised pair of lips—yours pecked the neck of their companion,ere digging your face to it like a nuzzle. In response Her arm tightens around your head, just enough to tug you closer and just enough to prevail any hint of discomfort away, revealing only your opposites, so you tighten your arms around on her just like how she did.

Senses endeavored only to be clamped down in a groggy comfort, your eyelids, heavy. feeling the brush of fingertips to your forehead before enveloped by a fleeting kiss.

"Sleep with me tonight will you? I don't want you to stay mad for earlier.."

coming from your companion, her words almost slurred to purrs, the voice fitting a dept to it as she spoke.

With a little bit of thought you sigh and oblige, letting go of the weight and murmuring an incoherent "I love you", though she somehow understood, replying with a hum and a hushed whisper.

"I love you too"

Symphonies of devotion, all it was, a mutter the three words, I love you, and it could fill one's core with tranquility, leaving all other heavy feelings behind.

The soothing rythym of your heartbeat and breathing crooked a smile out of your companion, her fingers continue to interwine with your soft hair, humming a melody of her own, perhaps one of her self composed songs.. No matter, every song she hums brings ease to your snoozing form.

With a little more of cuddling she followed you to dreamland..

[cheerupbabie]

need help finding a fic...

found family (ish) hsr, something happened (post canon hc) and nanook was defeated, stelle (i think stelle was trailblazer in this) dies, kafka is still stelle's mother tho and is sad, so she transfers blade's mara to stelle, blade lives, stelle also lives. pls i cannot find it :((( need help pls :(((

[maopll]

HSR HEADCANNONS

Dr. Ratio has a cupboard dedicated to all kinds of plushies, ranging from rubber ducks to merchandise of even Owlbert. Obviously, his most favourite and cherishable one is a handcrafted plush made from the softest is of...yours.

General Jing Yuan has a coat made from a lions mane. White hue akin the moonlight. He whispered to you "It is my most prized possession and...a very memorable one. Keep it for me in my stead"

Robin is actually a metal fan in case you didn't know. She has a series of dvds of Metallica, Black Sabbath, Linkin Park and many more. Oh and don't forget those gothic clothes that she is only willing to show to you.

Kafka composes pieces for you during the days she is feeling down or angry. This is just the way she pours her heart out. Perhaps you'd be willing to listen to her masterpieces.

Dan Heng has an album made up of all the moments spent in different regions, silly pictured of the whole Astral Express family, landscape photography, and yours in a certain corner solely for him and only him.

Blade being the girl dad he is, he always sends a portion of his allowances to Silver Wolf, Firefly and you. You all know it but you guys would rather keep it down. "We got more money for our next party night !!"

Sunday enjoys homecooked foods more than those of the fancy restaurants. The way you cook the steak has easily made its way to one of his all-time favourites. He enjoys cooking with you and for you.

Boothill has a tattered wallet about a few years old with torn leather and patches that he clumsily patched himself. Inside are two pictures. One of you and one of his late daughter. It had always been his dream to give his daughter another parent whom she'll have the most fun with. But sometimes dreams can stay as dreams.

guess who's back !

[toruskiii]

Group chats texts with them!!!

Genre: Fluff, crack Characters: Multiple x gn!reader (platonic, but you can view it as romantic if you want...somehow) Warnings: mild cussing, may be ooc [masterlist] [about me]

�� ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────♡

Dan Heng, March 7th, Caelus, Stelle

Blade, Kafka, Silver Wolf, Firefly

Jiaoqiu, Feixiao, Moze

Boothill, Argenti

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ────♡

[crguang]

games people play

You belong on the stage, you think, under blinding lights and at the forefront of an applauding audience. Most importantly, you only care to play along if Kafka stars in the play right alongside you.

afab!reader, kinda fluffy actually, smut, toys used, kafka is strapped and im not talking about the gun, dom!kafka, sub!bratty reader, some edging, rope play, kinda possessive kafka, 6.3k words…

A/N: this got away from me. i have nothing to say for myself.

Infiltration missions are your favorite; slipping into another person’s skin for a few hours, coming up with traits both obnoxious and serious in nature and performing in front of a naive, ignorant audience fills you with exhilaration.

Improvisation is even better, the anxiety of making up things on the fly feels like a hundred little bees buzzing in your stomach and you’ve grown so accustomed to its uneasiness by now that you often seek it out, it’s become a sort of addiction. Your team doesn’t understand— Silver Wolf prefers causing trouble from behind a screen and away from the action unless she needs to stretch her legs, Blade has too much on his mind to bother adding different characters into the mix, Firefly dreams to only live as herself. None of them share your excitement for acting and it would have been a great disappointment if it wasn’t for Kafka. Beautiful, guarded, eccentric Kafka. Constantly in search of adrenaline and always in movement, she is the only other member of your little illicit troupe of performers. Being with her is often the same as stepping on stage, what with all the half-truths and misleading statements, she is hidden under layers of costumes sometimes extravagant and other times impressively mundane. Even now, if she truly wishes to keep you at bay, you won’t be able to read her. It’s intoxicating. She plays you like the lines of a movie and together, under glaring lights and unsuspecting spectators, you dominate the stage.

You’re clasping the buttons of your shirt at the wrists, often slipping and having to start over, but despite the faint feeling of annoyance as you get dressed, you’re excited. Another evening of performing is ahead of you and it’s in times like this where you truly enjoy the work of the Stellaron Hunters. Having to blend in, to navigate a crowd of arrogant businessmen and pretentious admirers of the arts in order to steal the prized item of this auction feels like a scene straight out of a spy movie. What’s better is that you’re not meant to do this alone; Silver Wolf will be on comms as usual, hacking into the building to assure that the infiltration goes smoothly and Kafka will be right by your side, gloved hand in yours. Pre-performance jitters tingle your fingertips and toes. The sensation is welcome.

You tuck your shirt into your slacks and buckle the belt around your waist. You can hear shuffling and rummaging from the bathroom connected to the bedroom because of its open door. You pick the tie you laid out on the bed with the rest of your outfit earlier and wrap it around your neck, fiddling with it for some time before accepting the fact that you have no idea how to tie a tie and letting out a sigh of frustration. This is your first time wearing such a professional-looking suit complete with the loafers and tie, and you don’t know how to feel about it. It was slightly altered by your request, so it isn’t uncomfortable, just unfamiliar. You stand in front of the full length mirror with your undone tie, turning this way and that. Your hair is done in a style you like and with the shoes on you have to admit that you look nice.

You hear the faucet being turned on in the bathroom and stalk towards it.

“Can you tie this for me?” You ask as you step inside and glance at the mess of beauty products on the counter. Some of them are yours used in your hair, but most are Kafka’s. This is her room, after all.

Kafka’s applying a thin coat of mascara on her lashes when you walk in, focused on her reflection in the mirror. She doesn’t spare you a glance until she puts the brush back into its tube, flutters her eyelashes a couple times and deems her work perfect. She turns to you, an amused smile growing on her lips at the tie resting around your neck.

“Don’t know how?” Kafka steps into your space and runs her fingers over the fabric. She starts to loop it around and over itself as you stand.

“Never had to learn.”

From this close, you can appreciate the eyeshadow at the corner of her eyes and the highlights on the apple of her cheeks. She hasn’t put on perfume yet or finished doing her lips, but she’s dressed in a form-fitting dark magenta dress that ends a little above her ankles, with thin straps and an open back. You feel no shame observing her backside through the mirror since she’s facing away from it. She’s stupidly gorgeous; you bring your eyes back to the dangling pearl earrings in her ears and the few strands of hair that cover them. If for some reason she stands out from the crowd tonight, it’ll be because she’s the most beautiful person in the room.

Kafka finishes tying your tie and pats your chest twice. She steps back and looks you over with a hum and a couple knuckles under her chin. When her gaze travels back up to meet yours, you catch a shimmer of appreciation in it.

“Well, you look dashing,” she says, her eyes following the movements of your hands as you smooth out your shirt.

You grin playfully, approaching her to lightly rest your hands on her waist. “The suit is doing it for you, isn’t it?”

Kafka lifts your chin with two fingers. “It is.”

Her honesty makes you huff out a laugh and the smile on her lips grows somewhat at the sound.

“I’ll have to come up with excuses to get you to wear it more often.”

“You could just ask.”

“That’s boring.”

You roll your eyes, glancing at the watch on your left wrist. “We have to meet Silver Wolf outside in 20 minutes.” You lean forward to plant a chaste kiss on her lips before letting go and leaving her to her makeup.

Fifteen minutes later, you’re shrugging on your coat when Kafka emerges from the bathroom to clasp a necklace around her neck and put on her heels. She carefully handles her own coat as she takes it out of the closet, putting it over her shoulders to complete her look. Her hair is secured in a low ponytail, as usual. The chain of her pendant rests between her breasts and the low neckline of her dress draws your attention to her chest for half a minute while you wait for her near the door.

You meet up with Silver Wolf with two minutes to spare and set off for the venue. It’s this city’s grandest museum, its marble columns can be seen from a distance as you approach in car. The streets are bustling with activity, glowing lights are shining on skyscrapers and stores have their doors open to assure a healthy flow for the customers coming in and out of them. The arts are greatly valued here, it shows in the pristine buildings and advertisements all around. You know it’s only because this is a richer neighborhood and surmise that the rest of the city doesn’t look as well put together. The ride to the museum is filled with Silver Wolf’s rock music in the speakers. Everything is in place, the comms she gave you are installed and all that’s left is to put on a show that the audience won’t forget.

Silver Wolf acts as your valet when you reach the venue and step out of the car, Kafka’s hand in yours. She slips into the driver’s seat and drives off to park somewhere close and inconspicuous. She’ll be supervising the mission from the back seat while the two of you do the heavy lifting.

Kafka curls a hand around your arm as you walk up the steps of the museum. You feel a little smug knowing that she’s here with you, at your arm. Getting inside is child’s play; your invitations are checked and the metal detector is no match for Silver Wolf’s genius tech, not that you’d ever tell her that. The interior is as impressive as its outside, with high ceilings, ceramic floors and precious artifacts displayed inside tall glass cases. You and Kafka make your way to where the Attouine Universal Auction will take place in one system hour, stopping to mingle with previously chosen targets on the way. You mingle among the upper crust, politicians, businessmen, academics alike so that Kafka can use her Spirit Whisper on them. The guest list isn’t large, only up to a total of 67 people, including you two. Lying to them is easy, pretending to be in love with Kafka is easier and you’re actually having fun half an hour in.

Kafka doesn’t let you do all the talking, she has no issue following your train of thought and assuring her advantage in the conversation. It’s admirable and effortless, you don’t get tired of seeing her in action. She has a champagne flute in one hand, occasionally pensively stirring the clear liquid inside. Her smile is rehearsed and comes as naturally as breathing when a couple sparks up a conversation with you. You’re happy to play along in front of the short woman and her husband, judging by the wedding band on her finger.

“What a beautiful pair you two make,” the brunette says, an air of forced politeness about her. She seems a little out of place, like she’s not used to these kinds of events. You guess that she’s only accompanying her husband to them and that he’s actually the one with recognition.

Her husband, however, stands with his chin high and his shoulders straight. He belongs there, or believes he does, and makes a show of showing everyone else.

You take Kafka’s hand in yours and bring it to your lips. “Thank you. She’s a diamond, isn’t she?”

The man follows the motion with his eyes but his wife replies before he can open his mouth. You hear Silver Wolf gag over the comms.

“Oh, how cute! Have you been together long?”

“A year, just about,” Kafka answers, looking at you. “This one’s always a charmer.”

“I can see that!”

You smile. “I’ve got to keep you around somehow… I’m aware of what a blessing you are.”

A sparkle of amusement shines in Kafka’s eyes, the corner of her mouth lifting ever so slightly at your cheesy reply. You maintain your facade, but you also feel like laughing at how silly you sound. It’s not an untrue statement per se… it’s just weird to say such things out loud because all the both of you do is beat around the bush when it comes to genuine emotion. You’re playing a character but it feels a little like the lines between fiction and reality are blurring.

In your ear, Silver Wolf groans, “One more corny line and you’re getting muted. You both disgust me.”

The woman poses a hand on her husband’s arm, addressing him while keeping her eyes on you. “They’re just like us, aren’t they, Len?”

Your gaze flickers to his at the mention of his name and he immediately looks away into the distance to pretend he wasn’t staring at the necklace between Kafka’s breasts. You feel a faint tinge of annoyance flare up inside your chest.

“Yes, very lovely,” he says, faking the unbothered tone of his voice.

You don’t know what offends you the most; his atrocious acting or his unashamed ogling.

“I notice neither of you are wearing rings,” the woman continues with interest. “Will things be made official in the near future, perhaps…?”

Kafka lets out a chuckle— you can tell it’s a genuine one— and turns to you with a teasing smirk, “Oh, I don’t know… will they?”

You feel the familiar sensation of bees in your belly as you’re put on the spot. All three of them expect your answer so you decide to play Kafka’s game. You meet her stare with the most innocent, lovesick look you can muster, your thumb rubbing the base of her ring finger. You find that you don’t have to try that hard.

“I don’t know about the near future, but… I know I’ve never been in love before knowing her.”

Kafka’s face doesn’t change, her meticulously practiced mask never slips, and you look at each other with equally heavy stares. Time seems to slow if only for the few seconds it takes for your new acquaintance to make an exaggerated sound of excitement. The moment breaks, you both look away at the same time and the conversation quickly resumes with pointless inquiries about your (fake?) relationship and the auction.

After some time, you glance at your watch and feel somewhat vindicated by the fact that the auction will start soon, giving you a reason to excuse yourself from the conversation. You’re also excited by what will happen next.

“It was nice meeting you both,” you offer the woman a smile and a nod, not dwelling on the blush of her cheeks, “but we have to find our seats. It’d be a shame to be all the way at the back with so many almost priceless items on display tonight.”

She laughs quietly and you miss the furtive look Kafka sends your way.

“Of course, of course…” The brunette sighs, then smiles sweetly. “Maybe we’ll end up seated next to each other.”

You don’t say anything to that. Kafka politely bids them goodbye and walks in the opposite direction, the hand laced with yours tugging you along. You meet with the rest of the guests, spark up short conversations from every corner of the room. Despite enjoying your performance, you find your audience lacking. Arrogance and pretentiousness reside in every business man, celebrity, political figure that you talk to and you quickly develop disdain for almost every person at this event. None of them deserve the social advantage that they have; you feel restless with the desire to humble them.

With each guest filing into the auction room until all the seats are filled, it’s time for the next part of the script to unfold. You take your seats at the front right near the small built-in stage. Two staff members carefully roll out the auction items as the auctioneer steps before the microphone and greets his audience. Kafka’s hand is on your knee, forefinger tracing insignificant patterns into the fabric of your pants while you wait for the last and most important item to be presented. The Stellaron, trapped inside a large, almost translucent mineral, emits an energy felt by the entire room as it’s brought on stage in a glass case. It glitters in the light like a precious jewel and catches the attention of each buyer. Kafka squeezes your knee once. It’s go time.

Stealing the Stellaron is laughably easy. Due to Kafka’s Spirit Whisper, not a single member of the audience can find the strength to stand up from their seat as you hop to your feet and saunter on stage. The auctioneer stammers about it not being allowed, but he’s dealt with just as the others are and soon, he’s frozen where he stands, trembling like a leaf in the wind. Confused murmurs and panicked shouts fill the air when the guests realize their predicament, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Kafka handles the Stellaron with care while you browse the selection of items on display with a pensive hum.

An antique vase catches your eye. It curves at the top and opens like a blooming flower; designs that mean nothing to you seem carved right into the glass, so you take it out if it’s case for a closer look. It’s a bit heavy despite measuring less than two feet. You decide to keep it and eventually gift it to Kafka knowing she would be able to find the beauty in it. As the clamor of people’s voices rise around you, an idea strikes you. You turn to Kafka.

“The script only said we would steal the Stellaron and leave the museum at 20:56 system time…”

A small smile appears on Kafka’s lips. “What are you thinking?”

“This place reeks of supposed social superiority,” you trail your fingers on top of a case containing an old ceramic disk with contrasting colors and patterns. You push it off the table and it explodes into cutting shards. Amidst the chaos, loud gasps of indignation follow. “I want to tear it down.”

Kafka’s smile widens.

Twenty minutes later, you’re on your way back to the base exactly as Elio foresaw, with Silver Wolf in the driver's seat making a quick getaway as the museum’s alarms sound behind you. You huff out a breathy laugh once in the back seat, heart thundering in your chest from the adrenaline. You had to incapacitate some security guards on the way out, the chase is your second favorite part. It feels great, your fingertips twitch with exhilaration as the car swerves between other vehicles on the road, ignoring red lights and stop signs. Kafka leans on the head rest next to you, looking at you with something you can’t fully decipher. In the darkness of the backseat it’s hard to read her gaze, especially with her contacts on, but you recognize the way her eyes flicker between yours, then to your mouth. She doesn’t have to say anything, your hands suddenly cup her cheeks and your lips crash into hers. The breath is knocked out of you with both her kiss and the lingering adrenaline. Her hand snakes around your neck to bring you closer, her teeth sink into your bottom lip when she pulls away for half a second. She’s rougher than usual with a sense of urgency accompanying her touches; her free fingers sneak under your coat to grip your shirt.

“Can you not?” Silver Wolf makes a noise of disgust and her sudden intervention pulls you out of the daze you were in. “I swear, I’ll crash this stupid car.”

Kafka chuckles, separating herself from you. Her hand stays beneath your coat. “Don’t be so dramatic. A mission well done deserves a proper celebration, don’t you think?”

“I don’t care what you do, as long as it’s not in front of me.”

“We’re behind you…” you mutter, inhaling deeply to calm your shaky hands.

You ignore the middle finger Silver Wolf sends your way. You lean into the seat, eyes closed, and regain full control of your body with a few slow breaths. Kafka’s hand trails down your shirt to your lap. As you turn your head to look at her, you find her gaze already on you. The unfamiliar glint in it is still present, seemingly making her irises darker, then the corners of her mouth lift in a softer smile than she’d normally offer you.

“Let’s play a round of Truth or Lie,” she says suddenly.

Apart from being a fun game you both enjoy, it’s somewhat become your way of discussing serious matters without having to lay yourselves bare. The existence of a lie adds a layer of protection that neither of you can go without. You tilt your head at the suggestion.

“Okay. You start.”

Kafka takes a few seconds to reply, as if thinking of how to phrase her question. You’re careful to school your features into a picture of neutrality so as to not be caught off guard. She hums, then speaks up.

“Did you mean what you said earlier, to that woman?”

You don’t need to ask for clarification on what she’s referring to. Though her smile hasn’t slipped off her face, Kafka’s expression is guarded.

“Am I that good a liar you couldn’t tell?” You tease, an eyebrow raised.

“Is that one of your questions?”

You look past her as you think. Yes, something in you meant what you said then. You recognize this certainty, it’s as real as the earlier thrill in your veins. Being with Kafka is never boring, always brings something new, and you’ve never felt this way before meeting her. It’s an electrifying feeling that travels from your toes to wake the rest of your body, not unlike a shock, except that this is something you can’t help but crave. Beyond the curtains of this beautiful stage you act in lies a sort of yearning for more of how she makes you feel, of her hand in yours as you reenact this rehearsed play of two emotionally guarded beings finding closeness in each other. Are you in love with her? Yes, you are.

“No,” you shake your head, “to answer your first question. I was in character.”

Kafka stares at you for a moment, searching your face for the truth. You smile at her.

“Mm. You turn.”

Your fingers fiddle with her hand on your lap. Silver Wolf takes a sharper turn than necessary and the car swerves to the right. “Are you disappointed by my answer?”

“…No. I’m not.”

You can’t read her at all. You suppose that’s the point of the game. You arrive at your destination before you can finish the round and Silver Wolf wastes no time in hopping out of the car and into the building. There’s a spring in your step as you follow suit with Kafka in tow.

You’re already working towards unbuttoning your coat and uncuffing your shirt when you step into Kafka’s dark room. She flicks the switch behind you, illuminating the room. She takes off her earrings and you take a seat on the bed after slipping out of your loafers. You stretch your arms above your head, letting out a long sigh. Kafka discards her jewelry on top of a dresser.

“You know…” she turns to you before leaning into the furniture and looking you over like she did earlier this evening. You stop loosening your tie as she speaks, lifting your head to meet her eyes. “You looked beautiful tonight.”

You feel a playful smile stretch your lips. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mm. You nearly had that poor woman combusting in place.”

Your brows furrow briefly as you recall the exchange. You viewed her interest as superficial, something she felt compelled to be because of how obviously uneasy social events of that nature made her. It showed in the way she clung to her husband and how clumsy she was at navigating the conversation. Still, Kafka’s words are laced with a tinge of possessiveness you almost never see in her. A smirk slowly spreads across your face.

“She had a husband,” you remind her.

“Who spent half the conversation looking at my chest. They likely had nothing between them. But you knew that.”

You did not. You genuinely thought she was overcompensating and were too busy playing a clip of her husband getting fatally injured over and over in your mind after catching his eyes on Kafka. It’s funny that she would think you were flirting on purpose, though.

Kafka takes slow strides towards you. She stands in front of you and a bare foot slides between your calves to nudge them apart. You take hold of her waist, looking up at her with an innocent smile.

“You liked the attention,” she states with a finger under your chin. She wears a smile as her other hand comes up to strike your hair.

“You sound jealous.”

Kafka laughs softly, fingers splaying out over your cheek. Her thumb soothingly rubs your skin. You resist the urge to close your eyes. “Cute. What’s there to be jealous of when you’re pliable in my hands?” Her knee sinks into the mattress between your legs and she leans closer. “A block of clay to be shaped and molded. That’s what you are.”

“And you’re so eager to put your hands on me, to have me for yourself that another woman laughing at my jokes tickles you.”

Her thumb traces the outline of your bottom lip. “Eager?”

“Like a pup.”

Her smile doesn’t waver. She pushes her digit past your lips and it gets caught between your teeth as you make a noise of surprise at the sudden intrusion. You relax after a second, your tongue swirling around her finger while you maintain eye contact with her. There’s a dangerous heat in the way she looks at you, an unsaid warning that you choose to ignore.

“Brat.” Kafka takes her thumb out of your mouth and observes how it shines in the light. “You know what I do with them, don’t you?”

“You fuck them?”

The smile on her face grows larger. The way she touches you is inherently condescending, the overly sweet strokes of your hair and fake gentleness as she cups your cheek and leans close to you as if to kiss you are subtle reminders of her control over you. You stare into her eyes with fluttering eyelashes.

“Sweet girls get orgasms. A brat like you, on the other hand…”

You feel her breath on your parted lips and expect a kiss that doesn’t come. Instead Kafka tears herself from you and straightens up. Your hands leave her waist as she takes a step back and brings her hand to her chin in contemplation.

“I think I’ll tie you up.”

She does just that. You bite your bottom lip to muffle a whine, wrists absentmindedly tugging against their pretty, silken restraints. Kafka’s ropes hold your arms above your head to each corner of the headboard and slightly dig into your skin the more your muscles struggle. She effortlessly ties you up like a lovely present before you can prepare a snarky remark. The pink webs obey her command, unlike you, and keep you in place while she climbs over you to leisurely undress you. She starts at your neck, loosening your tie to place wet kisses on your skin. Her teeth sink into your flesh and she is without remorse when you hiss at the sensation. She suckles the bite, her tongue occasionally darting out to soothe the mark in slow strokes. Her hands expertly undo the button of your shirt without needing to look at her work. You feel her warm tongue trailing down to your collarbone as she removes your shirt. One of her knees stays between your thighs, unmoving.

Kafka lifts her head to look at the reveal of your skin once your shirt is discarded somewhere on the floor. Her palms travel up and down your stomach, squeeze at the waist and knead your covered breasts over your bra, all the while following their movements with lidded eyes. You swallow. You don’t say a word because you know she’ll go even slower if pressured to pick up the pace, but your skin is hot and your cunt already pulses between your legs at her tame ministrations. Kafka pulls down the cup of your bra with a finger, freeing a hardened nipple.

“Erect already?” She teases. “I only took off your shirt.”

“Shut up,” the words leave your mouth without thinking and your lips part in surprise when she uses two fingers to harshly twist your nipple. “Ah!”

“Wanna try again?”

You take a breath. “Acting like I’m the eager one when I know you’ve already ruined your pan— Mmh!”

Pleasure courses through you as your nipple is pinched between her fingertips. Her hands run around your chest to unclasp your bra and toss it aside, then resume their work on your breasts. Her thumbs swipe over your nipples, applying pressure that pathetically quickens your breathing. Kafka licks her lips but doesn’t use her mouth on you. She watches how your plush mounds move under her hands and take whatever shape she wants them to. She grabs a handful of each breast, squeezing and kneading until you’re exhaling through your mouth. Then she slowly moves down to your hips, rubbing the skin. She has to adjust her position in order to take off your pants and she settles between your thighs once the task is done.

Your thighs spread apart to accommodate her body. Kafka looks up at you, amused, but doesn’t comment on the gesture. Her palms rub into your soft skin, trailing up and down your inner thighs. A dark spot spreads from where arousal dampens your gray underwear.

“If only you could see how wet you’re getting,” she sighs lustfully, “maybe we should do this in front of the mirror. What do you think?”

You bite the inside of your cheek at the suggestion. Kafka hooks a forefinger under your underwear and pulls to reveal your glistening sex. Her voice lowers perceivably.

“Mm? Is thinking about me fucking you in front of a mirror getting you all wet?”

Her index trails down your folds and touches your clit as it does, making you suck your lip into your mouth to keep in a low moan. Kafka observes her finger between your lips, how your arousal coats the better part of it as it teases your pussy. She’ll have you a complete sticky mess before the night is over. The thought makes her cunt clench. She slides your panties down your legs until they no longer hide your puffy pussy from her sight. She uses two fingers to spread your lips and looks up at you.

“If you were well-behaved, I’d be licking you clean right now. Too bad you’re not.”

You groan in slight frustration. “Come on. Just fuck me like you mean it.”

“Oh, I’ll fuck you.” Kafka’s eyes narrow. She pulls her fingers away from your cunt completely. “And when I do, you won’t be able to remember a thing but how good I feel inside you.”

Kafka stands upright, ignoring your little whine to rummage through her drawers instead. She picks up a couple of things and you’re breathless when you see the strap-on and vibrator in her hands as she returns to your side. Your thighs clench together in a fruitless attempt at relieving pressure in your lower belly. You feel your arousal on your inner thighs, coating them in sticky juices. Kafka waves a hand and silk threads wrap around your flesh, forcing you to keep your legs spread for her. You try to move but apart from the quiver of your muscles, nothing happens.

“You haven’t earned that one yet,” Kafka gestures with the plastic cock and tosses it on the bed. She turns the small vibrator over in her palm, messing around with the settings until she finally settles on the lowest one. It pulses as it’s pressed against your cunt and you don’t bother covering up the moan that escapes you. “This will do for now.”

The vibrations on your pussy are so good, so relieving you throw your head back with a breathy moan. You feel each one reverberate through your body and soon, your hips are trying to move along for more friction. You buck your hips, hoping the movement will make it touch your clit for even a second. Kafka watches your growing desperation with apathy. She runs the vibrator up and down your slit, purposely ignoring your aching clit. Positioning it at your entrance covers the head in arousal and she’s tempted to push it in just to see how your cunt greedily sucks in anything she gives you. She makes you suffer longer, caresses your labia with the toy and pulls it away when she sees you clench from the pleasure. With it being at the lowest setting, the throb is a welcomed sensation but isn’t enough to make you come. Trying to move your body is useless; the thin ropes around your limbs keep you exactly how Kafka wants you: defenseless.

You inhale sharply through your mouth as she rubs the toy into your cunt. You know begging won’t help your cause and will only serve to humiliate you. Pleading to her good conscience is just as worthless, but you need to come so badly and Kafka will only allow you to do it on her terms. So, you provoke her.

“That— Mmh, that woman from the auction,” you manage to breathe out, and Kafka instantly meets your eyes. “Bet… she’d be so eager to make me come if I asked.”

Kafka doesn’t move for a moment. The vibrator is still pressed against your pussy, making you let out little whines, but her hand isn’t moving and she’s simply looking at you like she’s trying to figure you out. You know she sees through you, your mind is too taken by the idea of pleasure to bother hiding yourself from her searching gaze. She seems to debate with herself on something and when you think she just won’t bite your bait, she turns off the vibrator. You watch as she stands to let her dress slip to the floor. Apprehension curls around your throat as she steps into the harness of the strap-on and adjusts it around her hips. Her silence makes your gut flutter with nervousness. Then she chuckles to herself and that only worsens the feeling.

Kafka hovers over you, fingers digging into your skin as she grabs your jaw and guides your gaze to hers. Her nails will surely leave crescent marks behind, but you can only focus on the dull pink of her irises. With her free hand, she guides the plastic cock between your folds, coating it in your slick and grazing your clit in the process. Your following moan is muffled by the grip on your jaw. She spreads your arousal over the dick, pumping it once, twice, three times before her sticky fingers grip your waist and she pushes half of the length into you at once.

You groan in surprise, unaccustomed to the sudden fullness. You feel the toy stretching your walls and Kafka doesn’t allow you to get used to the sensation before thrusting the entirety of it inside your fluttering cunt.

“Fuck, w— wait…” you gasp out, wrists struggling against the ropes and thighs trembling. “I was—” A whimper escapes you as Kafka pulls out almost completely just to drive into you again. “Was joking, baby…”

“Shut up and take it.”

You have no choice but to comply. Kafka thrusts into you, unrelenting and apathetic to the way the sensations overwhelm you instantly after so much teasing. Her dick rubs your walls deliciously and the wet sounds of it pounding into you has you choking out a cry. You don’t get used to the pace, it’s too rough, too fast, and has your orgasm building after only a minute of her inside you. You can’t last, not with Kafka playing you as rigorously as she does the violin, fingers digging into the flesh of your love handle for stability. You take her cock as she orders you to and whimper against her lips when she leans forward to press her mouth to yours for the first time tonight. Her kiss is as rough as her strokes, leaving you breathless, a mindless puppet only able to mutter her name. As her tongue enters your mouth to tease yours, the hand around your jaw leaves so that her middle finger harshly rubs your clit. It’s too much for you to handle at once. Your cunt swallows her cock as you come with her name out your lips, squeezing her like a vice.

Kafka doesn’t slow down her thrusts, fucking you through your orgasm and maintaining the pressure on your pulsing clit until you feel another one coming.

“Kafka—” You whine, throat hoarse, “too much…”

“Mmh? That’s what you wanted. Be grateful I didn’t leave you there, cunt aching for me to fill you. You’ll take what I give you.”

Her eyes drink you in, she commits your twisting brows and trembling lips to memory; her mind takes live pictures of you under her, whimpering as you greedily take her cock, until there’s an entire gallery of your fucked out expression inside her head. The sight makes her wetter and needy for release, but it’s not enough. With an arm around your shoulder and the use of her webs, Kafka manipulates your weak body into straddling her lap as she sits up on the bed. Your wrists are still tied together, your arms around her neck, but your thighs quiver as the ropes vanish around them. She holds you up with two hands on your hips and pushes you down onto her length. Your eyes are closed, your lips parted, and you let her guide you up and down her cock until you’re coming again. Kafka watches your slick slide down the dildo and groans, wishing she could pump her own cum into your cunt and watch it leak out of you as she fills you. The toy is drenched in cum and she doesn’t look away as it disappears inside your throbbing pussy, can’t; she feels her own slick run down her thighs just from watching how messy you’re getting her cock.

“Can’t take it,” you breathe out, “mmh…”

Kafka looks up at you. She briefly takes your nipple in her mouth, swirling her tongue around it, before letting go and murmuring into your skin, “You can, baby. You’re taking me so well.”

You whine, hips faltering. The length of her cock buries into you in a harsh thrust upwards and you can’t make a sound as you come hard, your face in Kafka’s neck. Your arms shake from the pleasure that assaults you at once. Your toes curl and the breath leaves your lungs. Kafka doesn’t pull out as you come down from your high a panting mess. Your limbs feel twice as heavy. Her hand strokes your hair while you breathe in and out sharply. She gives you some time to calm down, then pulls you away from her neck with the hand in your hair and kisses you messily; you feel her tongue on your bottom lip and her saliva mix with yours. She breathes out into your open mouth, a low moan escaping her.

Kafka squeezes your hip and mutters into your mouth, “You’ll give me another one, won’t you?”

Though it’s phrased as one, you know it’s not a question at all. This is what you get for provoking her, and she won’t stop until she’s entirely satisfied.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

How do you think Kafka would handle you not being able to ride him. I physically can not ride my husband and I felt bad about. It makes me feel like I'm not normal. But anyway I love you writing, keep up the good work.

I truly believe that Kafka is about emotional intimacy, as well, if not more so. He's the kind of guy that feels like if there's nothing beyond physical attraction and affection then there's probably not much reason in pursuing the relationship. He really loves to have conversations with you - even if that's all that comes of the time you spend together. It's not about the sex, it's about the connection you both share. Kafka has to have an intellectual connection with you first before he even entertains the idea of any other kind. And Kafka is SO ULTIMATELY aware of physical limitations, as his own were a source of frustration for him for so long. He would never hold something you have no control over against you. What he WOULD do, is set up a nice little space for you. Candles, with the wooden wicks, I just know it. Flowers because you're his little busy bee that needs to fucking chill a bit and take care of yourself. Maybe some wine or sparkling cider - depending on what you both have going on the next day. Lots of soft pillows so you and/or he can be set up comfortably for the other person to have their way with.

In summation, Kafka Hibino is the most perfect man in the Milky Way and no one will ever change my mind so don't try.

@darkstarlight82 @kazutora-kurokawa @katkusuo

@trevengersprincess @witchy-scribblings @manji-hoe

@southside-otaku @breathofthewind29 @mintiblossom

@viburnt @bakubunny

[aeonstale]

SHUT UP AND DRIVE !

┆彡 summary. headcannons about driving. ┆彡 cw. blade x reader. moze x reader. boothill x reader. crashes. suggestive (mention of making out). curses. road rage. boothill's part is short bc headache. not proof read. [1.5k]

m.list | request.

STELLARON HUNTERS (BLADE).

Canonical Blade can drive. Silver wolf tried one time, she almost caused your death (she said she had a perfect score. She meant in the game..) Firefly can’t, Kafka can but always let Blade drive.

Passenger princess treatment from Blade. The type to have his hand on your thighs, drawing meaningless shapes. He lets you choose the music, and you know he likes it when he taps his finger to the rhythm. 

Though if you call him out he will deny it all.

If you were craving food at whatever time, he WILL drive you there. 

No matter the distance or time. Blade’s getting the car keys and driving you there. 

He sometimes participates in races. 

Tailored a jacket based off of him for you to wear. 

′′It brings me good luck.′′ he says.

But you know the pink hues slowly merging into red ones. Even if he hides his face, blade’s ears are a dead give away. 

Make out sessions in his car. I’m talking heavy ones. 

The type to ask you to feed him when he drives. His eyes focused on the road, while his ears were listening to your daily gossip.

He does have light road rage. Mostly when the other car initiates it, he scares them off. He doesn’t want to waste time and ruin your time together.

But when the mara struck and he couldn't control his anger, he tried to crash them… You gave him the silent treatment for a week + no kisses or cuddles for a month + never sat next to him choosing to sit farther from him even in the car, and he never tried that again.

Sometimes the other stellarons crash your outings.

Silver Wolf would be popping bubble gums while her game audio is at max volume. She would be sitting right behind you, easy access to whisper to you and teasing Blade.

Kafka would be in the seat behind Blade’s. Easy to annoy him with light kicks and can also see you clearly while you talk (she just loves window seats.) 

And Firefly in the middle. She’d talk to you about recent missions encounters and whatever’s on the girl's mind. Would also ask blade to stop at a restaurant for take outs, and when he refuses she turns to you. Puppy eyes begging you to convince him. And of course, you agree.

The chaotic family trip vibe.

Except when Kafka drives then it turns into a girl night out and Blade.

He would be in charge of carrying heavy stuff. 

You let Firefly sit in front while you sit next to Blade. 

He sits in between you and Silver Wolf.

One because SW will die before she gives up the window seats. And two he likes how you lean on him (plus a good excuse to say he’s looking at the window when Kafka and SW teases him about how he watches you with tender eyes.)

Overall; a good 9/10 vibe when driving with Blade. (minus one because it can be annoying when he crashed.)

YAOQING TRIO (MOZE).

All of you have your driving license. So let’s cut it into four parts ;

When Moze is driving : 

Respect the rules. A calm driver who has little to no road rage. 

The type to park whenever he needs something so as to avoid any danger. This man is the textbook example of how a driver should act.

However, Moze would NOT let the music play.

′′ It distracts me from the road. ′′ o/10. 

Even if you bring out any deal, Moze will just continue dead staring into the road. He will not budge. 

When Fei Xiao is driving : 

Hold on to your prayers and your seat belt. 

Number one street racer here, she will respect the red light but other than that? Nah.  

′′ Why go slow when you can break the sound barrier? ′′ Fei Xiao probably.

The type to eat and drive, if she dropped something she would grab it herself and let go of the wheel forcing either you or Moze to stir in her stead. 

Which leads to my next point. Either you or Moze HAVE to be on the front passenger seat. This woman is NOT to be trusted with a wheel.

But whoever sits next to her will ALWAYS receive princess treatment.

Moze hates her for it, so he lets you ride next to her.

It’s all fun and game until she’s too caught up in a conversation with you to notice the huge truck heading your way.

You manage to stir out of the way and she just laughs and slaps your back telling you she knew what she was doing.

You banished Moze to the front for a month and to the couch for a week after that.

When Jiaoqiu is driving : 

Pre 2.5? Kind of a responsible driver. He still has some slip up and he often pretends to crash to scare all of you out. 

He gets banned from spicy foods when he pulls stunts like these.

Post 2.5? No. 

In the back seat, he is however in charge of snacks and pranks. 

′′ Oh hey we’re here!′′ ′′..no we are not?′′ ′′ that’s what it’d sound like when one of you notices it.′′ proceed to stare into your soul but he’s looking at the seat.

Many blind jokes, it’s his coping mechanism. 

The type to sit behind the driver seat and cover their eyes. ′′ Guess who~′′ (′′THE IMMINENT DEATH IF YOU DON’T LET GO′′)

His tail takes up most of the back seat but if he allows you, an amazing sleeping spot. But has an interesting way to wake you up…(he put hot peppers underneath your nose until you wake up in a coughing fit lmao)

Overall 7/10 (you still didn’t forgive him for the hot pepper prank.)

When your driving : 

Responsible driver with a hint of road rage. Kind of similar to Blade’s aforementioned, but tamer….ish. 

Moze would be in charge of the gps, Feixiao of the music (her gym playlist would be playing because it is the only acceptable one of hers), Jiaoqiu of the food as usual. 

But the moment someone tries to push you into another lane or bump into you while overtaking you?

They are holding into their seatbelt and praying to The Hunt. 

Physically having to restrain you before you get out and show them why you are the General’s Lieutenant. Insults after insults, it’s even funnier when you insult them in The Xiaozhu tongue while they stand there confused.

But a quick snack shoved to your mouth by Moze and you are all fine and dandy.

′′ Where do you guys wanna eat :) ′′ ′′you almost killed a man..?′′ ′′do you want me to finish him or go eat? ′′ ′′eat.′′ ′′:)′′

Wife happy, we happy. 

Wife mad, we scared.

Overall 10000000000000/10 (biased bc no you are not wrong ???)

GALAXY RANGERS (BOOTHILL).

Oh boy.

There are only two actual drivers, Boothill and you.

Rappa is licenseless and it’s better if it stays that way.

Boothill prefers to drive, you don’t mind since you get to enjoy the scenery and sleep. 

Rappa is always in the backseat.

They got banished there after some..unfortunate incidents. 

She almost crashed you all. She saw something she deemed was necessary to investigate. Boothill refused to pull over, so she did the next best thing. She tried to jump out.

You had a heart attack trying to pull her back in, you had to climb into the front all while begging Boothill to help. 

Meanwhile Boothill was trying to keep you steady while making sure not to crash (oh yeah and also not hurt Rappa Though he kinda wanted to.) 

You got pulled over by the police, but while you were reprimanded, Rappa distracted the police and pushed you all back into the car. Urging Boothill to hit the gas which he did all while laughing maniacally. 

′′You are crazy!!? What would you have done if they started shooting??′′ ′′shoot back.′′ (father and daughter moment)

Safe to say Rappa was banished from the front seat and was obligated to have the seat belt on at all times.

princess treatment from Boothill. Would drive to the moon and earth. 

Does have some road rage but one glare for you and he is calm.

He is a bit of a ′make your own solution′.

′′Oh no that car is blocking our way′′ ′′we’ll run them over.′′ ′′yes we’ll run them–WHAT′′

The type to fight over the songs, the other two joining soon.

You would have arrived at the destination before a song was agreed on. 

Fun experience until he almost runs over an IPC member and you have to go on a car chase to lose the tens of IPC cars after you.

That meme.

 Boothill singing along to the song while you death stare at him. 

He slept on the couch that night and the following.

And the week after.

@/AEONSTALE — all copyrights reserved. do not repost, modify or edit my works in any way. DON'T LIKE SPAM.

[aventurineswife]

Could I request a reader who loves to cook for their lover with whichever characters you like (as long as Aventurine is included)?

Imagine them (the characters) getting jealous because the reader started cooking for other people. Nothing serious of course, just them getting a little pouty because they're note the only ones eating their cooking anymore.

A Taste of Jealousy

Summary: In a cozy kitchen, you are preparing food for someone else instead of your partner, which elicits mixed reactions.

Tags: Blade x Reader, Kafka x Reader, Acheron x Reader, Aventurine x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Fluff, Romantic, Cooking, Jealousy, Affection, Playfulness, Established Relationship.

Warnings: Jealousy, Possessiveness.

A/N: Hope you love it!! 🤭💖

Blade

In the dim light of your kitchen, the scent of simmering spices filled the air, a comforting contrast to Blade’s usually dark presence. As you chopped vegetables, he leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you with a mix of admiration and annoyance.

“Who are you cooking for?” he asked, his voice low and slightly edged with jealousy.

You glanced up, surprised by the sudden tension. “Just some friends who dropped by. I thought I’d share my cooking.”

Blade’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I see.” His posture shifted, and he stepped closer. “I suppose I’ll have to remind them that your skills belong to me.”

You laughed, the sound light and playful. “I’ll save the best for you, I promise.”

He nodded, but you noticed the slight pout on his lips as he watched you chop. “They’re not worthy of your food...” he muttered, glancing away, a hint of possessiveness lacing his tone.

Kafka

Kafka sauntered into your kitchen, the aroma of your latest culinary experiment wafting through the air. She leaned casually against the counter, eyeing the spread with a sly grin.

“Cooking for someone special?” she teased, her voice smooth and playful.

“Just some friends,” you replied, stirring a pot of fragrant stew. “I wanted to try something new.”

Her brow arched, a flicker of jealousy crossing her features. “Oh? So, I’m not the only one enjoying your cooking anymore?”

You turned to her, sensing the shift in her demeanor. “You know you’re always my favorite.” you reassured, a smile dancing on your lips.

Kafka smirked but crossed her arms, feigning indifference. “I expect a private tasting session after this.” There was a glint in her eye that promised mischief, and you knew she’d get her way.

“Of course. Just you and me,” you replied, sensing her playful jealousy ease.

Aventurine

Aventurine entered the room, a playful glint in his eyes as he caught sight of you at the stove. The aroma of spices danced in the air, and a grin spread across his face.

“Cooking up a storm for someone else?” he teased, leaning casually against the doorframe.

You turned, stirring a colorful mix in the pan. “Just some friends. I thought it would be fun.”

His expression shifted, a hint of a pout forming on his lips. “But what about me? I thought I was your favorite chef’s assistant.”

You laughed, finding his playful jealousy endearing. “You know you are! I’ll save you the best portion.”

He stepped closer, feigning nonchalance. “I suppose that’ll have to do… but don’t think I won’t demand a private dinner afterward.”

“Deal.” you replied, feeling his competitive spirit flare even in something as simple as cooking.

Sunday

Sunday entered the kitchen, a gentle smile gracing his face as he caught the delightful aroma of your cooking. However, that smile quickly faded into a slight pout when he saw you preparing a meal for others.

“Ah, I see you’re cooking for someone else.” he remarked, trying to maintain his usual calm demeanor but unable to hide the hint of jealousy in his eyes.

You looked up, surprised by the shift in his mood. “It’s just for some friends who stopped by. I wanted to share a little of what I’ve learned.”

His expression turned wistful, arms crossing as he leaned against the counter. “But you know I enjoy your cooking the most. It feels… special when you make it for me.”

You laughed softly, recognizing the playful possessiveness in his tone. “You know you’ll always be my favorite person to cook for, Sun.”

He softened at your words, but there was still a glimmer of mischief in his gaze. “Well, I expect a private tasting session later, then. I can’t let others enjoy your creations too much, can I?”

You smiled warmly, feeling his lighthearted jealousy ease. “Of course. Just you and me. I’ll make something extra special.”

His pout turned into a satisfied grin, and for a moment, you could see the warmth of his intentions shining through. “I look forward to it, then.”

Acheron

Acheron leaned against the wall, watching you with an unreadable expression as you prepared a simple meal. Her eyes sparkled with curiosity, though there was an underlying tension.

“Who are you cooking for?” she finally asked, breaking the silence, her voice soft yet firm.

You looked up, surprised. “Just some travelers passing through. I thought they could use a warm meal.”

Acheron’s expression darkened slightly, her posture stiffening. “You’re sharing your skills with others?” The hint of a pout formed on her lips.

You chuckled, sensing the rare glimpse of vulnerability in her demeanor. “It’s just food, Acheron. You know you’re the one I enjoy cooking the most.”

She stepped closer, her gaze intense. “I’d prefer to keep your talents to myself. You know how much I dislike sharing.”

You smiled warmly, feeling her jealousy melt away as you offered her a taste. “Here, just for you.”

Waiting for someone to make a poly relationship request 👀👁️👁️

[stxneflxwers]

pillowy.

⋯⁂ summary. thighs make very good pillows, apparently.

⋯⁂ a/n. thighs 💕. that's it that's the post

⋯⁂ characters. aventurine. dr ratio. kafka. hanya. gn reader.

⋯⁂ cw. physical affection. established relationship(s). fluff!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! all lowercase.

aventurine.

♤. the moment you flop your head onto his lap, his slender thighs, he lets out a surprised huff and blinks down at you. needless to say, his curiosity is piqued, it's apparent by looking at his widened eyes.

when he finally figures out you're simply resting there, he shrugs it off and smiles. his little grin is tender, fond of your own far less dramatic antics. he needs someone every now and again to reign him in, doesn't he? you're the perfect person for that, he thinks. not that he'd be caught admitting that, though.

as he scrolls through his phone with one hand, his other hand finds itself absent-mindedly resting on you – whether it be on your head or back. his thumb idly rubs tiny, comforting circles against your skin. it's damn near enough to lull you to sleep.

dr ratio.

♣️. veritas is quick to ask you what the hell you think you're doing, but he's not truly against the idea of you resting your head on his plush thighs. he was simply thrown off-guard. you do have your strange habits and behaviors, of course. he's great at predicting what you'll do next, but when his defensive walls are down, he's much easier to surprise.

before you can move off of his lap and apologize for upsetting him, he'll murmur a simple, "...stay." and that's enough for you to do exactly that – stay.

the cozier you get on his lap, the closer you get to drifting off into dreamland. when you do fall asleep as he reads one of his numerous books, he smiles. he's never been so implicitly trusted like this by someone before. and he couldn't ask for any other person to trust him so whole-heartedly.

kafka.

♢. this was all her idea, actually. she was curious, and wished to bring you some comfort to your tumultuous lives. the moment you rest your head on her thighs, you let out a long sigh of relief and smile up at her. she smiles back – this one seems different, though. it's kinder, softer.

her smiles often look empty or threatening, but this one was so different. and you can tell, in this moment, she's comfortable and content with you resting on her lap.

she's not quite certain why you trust her as much as you do, but she wouldn't trade your trust or your smiles for the world.

hanya.

♥️. hanya, at worst, is difficult to handle – her severe depression and attachment issues can make life a struggle for you both. but you often remind her that you cherish and adore her with all of your heart. it's usually enough to bring her peace of mind and a pink tint to her cheeks.

...however, actions speak louder than words.

sure, you accidentally spook her sometimes with your random gestures of affection. but she's so quick to forgive you for each one. like now, as your head rests on her pillowy thighs. she forgave you for suddenly dropping your head onto her lap before either of you even said anything. you smile sheepishly at her, and she sweetly smiles back.

she never thought she'd enjoy this type of domesticity as much as she does right now. but, she supposes there's always something out there that can pleasantly surprise her every now and again.

[chuuyaxsupremacy9]

Dazai: good morning, chibi! You look beautiful today

Chuuya, blushing: wha—

Dazai: April fools!

Chuuya:...oh...

Dazai, panicking: you look beautiful everyday

Chuuya: ...OH—