contents. fluff, established relationships, sleepy n cuddly toru :(, just needed to write this to cope with the 236 manga leaks i guess. i just love him tons sobs i need him happy and loved and peaceful
“hey,” you poke satoru’s chest, hearing a low groan rumble under your cheek, “toru?”
“hmm?” oh. he sounds a little tired—maybe you should let him sleep.
“you awake?” you ask anyway.
“am now,” he mumbles—well, he’s already awake, so you might as well indulge in it now. “need somethin’, sweetheart?”
“jus’ missed you is all,” you pout—that makes him grin despite the way he yawns, all wide and smooth even as he fights the sleep in his eyes. you feel just a bit guilty, reaching to cup his cheek and running a thumb over his eyelid carefully.
“yeah?” he chuckles quietly, “‘m right here. you still miss me?”
“yeah,” you whisper, “always miss you. even when you’re right here.”
satoru’s grinning into your cheek as he leans down and presses a wet kiss to the skin—he can’t possibly be mad that you’ve woken him so late. he can’t be mad when it’s you, and it’s him, and it’s each other.
sleep can wait, there’s always time for that later. but there’s never a moment where he wants to risk counting on later when it comes to you.
“what’d you miss about me?” he hums, nibbling on your earlobe as his head buries into your neck. you shift, letting his body tuck against yours as your arms wrap around him—he feels safe like this, somehow. infinity doesn’t make him feel nearly as secure as the way your arms do, tight and warm and made just for holding him.
“dunno,” you murmur, “everything.”
“love me that much?” he asks cheekily, “me sleeping right beside you isn’t enough?”
“no,” you huff, “you can’t pay attention to me in your sleep.”
“my needy baby,” he snickers, rubbing circles into the small of your back with his large palm. he’s warm against you—you can feel the rhythm of his heart as it beats against your body. he’s pressed so close to you, that not even air can slip through the cracks.
truthfully, you don’t know why you wake satoru. you don’t know why you can’t sleep—you just know that you need him. here. now. always. forever. more and more and more and even more.
“toru?” you ask quietly, making him hum as his eyes droop back shut slowly—he must really be tired.
you stare at him fondly, stroking his hair as he sighs happily at the feeling. and then you press a kiss to his forehead, to his cheek, to the corner of his eyes where they crinkle when he smiles, and to those lips of his that always find yours no matter how long it takes.
he always comes back to you. always. he never won’t—that much you trust.
“got somethin’ on your mind, baby?” he asks slowly, voice thick with sleep. you giggle, scratching at his scalp as he smiles lightly.
he dozing off—you watch him, hopelessly endeared.
“i love you,” you whisper, “need you to know that. love you so, so much. kay?”
he cracks an eye open—stares at you like you’re the reason his heart ever started beating, like you’re the only one that could ever command it to stop. every inch of his face is laced with love so gentle, you can see the way it makes his skin glow.
you love him. you’re sure he loves you. that’s all you need to know it’ll be fine. everything else is an afterthought—just as long as you have satoru.
“woke me just to confess your love for me?” he gasps, “you’re down bad. real, real bad. i must be a super handsome, totally awesome boyfriend. i do try,” he says cheekily.
you giggle, rolling your eyes as you pinch his cheek.
“be humble, you jerk,” you say exasperatedly.
it sounds more like you’re in love. too much fondness slipping into your voice that it might make your teeth hurt from how sweet. satoru’s always had a sweet tooth, though—he accepts your love graciously, like it’s never too much.
if fact, it might just not be enough. he needs more, more, more.
“can’t,” he says slowly, yawning again, “you waking me up just to love me is a bit ego boosting.”
“this was a mistake,” you scoff—its playful, it’s fond. it sounds like deeply falling headfirst.
“aw c’mon,” he pouts—and then he’s brushing his lips against your neck a he clings closer to you, curling into your body with his six-foot-something stature as you pull the blanket tighter around him, “love you too. what was it you said again? oh, right—so, so much.”
“good,” you hum, nodding in satisfaction. “you better.”
“i do,” he chuckles, “can i sleep now? or are we gonna start talking about all the things we love about each other? cause i can stay up to listen to that, of course.”
“go to sleep, you idiot,” you scoff.
he grins. you press one last kiss to his forehead as you count the soft breaths he takes while he falls back asleep.
you love him—it’s all you ever want to do.
i cried while writing this and i cried thinking about the leaks and i cried while reading the leaks and i cried and cried and i’m tired of crying. gege when i catch you gege 🔫
putting a pair panties of yours in javi’s leather jacket pocket where he keeps his cigarettes to tease him 🙂↕️🙂↕️
The day grinds him down until he can feel it in his bones. Relentless heat, monotonous paperwork, dangerous men slipping through their fingers again and again. The weight of failure presses heavy on his chest.
Out here, there’s no such thing as breathing easy.
By the time he wanders off to the edge of the raided compound, his nerves are strung tight. He needs a cigarette like he needs air: just five minutes away from the bullshit. Only the burn of smoke in his lungs to help quiet the turmoil in his head.
He digs into the pocket of his worn leather jacket, but instead of cardboard, his fingers brush against something soft. He frowns, pulling it out, and freezes.
A pair of panties. Yours. Skimpy and delicate, the lace bunched from being shoved into the pocket. His jaw tightens, cigarette forgotten. For a moment he just stares at them, the corner of his mouth twitching into an amused smirk. His thumb drags over the crotch of the fabric, and he’s immediately taken back to the previous night.
Your body arching under his, sharp nails carving lines into his back. The way you cried his name when he shoved your thighs open wider and made you take every inch of his cock. How you looked at him afterwards with messy hair and swollen lips.
He exhales through his nose, the picture so vivid he can almost feel your tight, slick heat again, hear your pretty voice as you begged him not to stop. He remembers pulling out just to slap the head of his cock against your pussy, teasing you until you were begging for him to fuck you, then driving back in so deep you swore you could feel him in your throat.
The colorful panties dangle from his fingers, and his throat goes tight. He brings them to his face before he can stop himself, dragging the thin fabric across his mouth and nose, inhaling deeply. The scent is unmistakable—your musk, so raw and intoxicating, cutting through the stench of diesel, gunpowder, and death that clings to this place.
The taste of your skin floods his mouth like memory, making him salivate, and he closes his eyes; remembering how he kept you up half the night making you come over and over until you were a sobbing mess… plush thighs trembling each time he pushed back inside your throbbing cunt.
His cock stirs in his jeans, hardening fast, and he lets out a breathy chuckle at himself. Jesus Christ. Out here leaning against a dirty wall, hard as a rock because of a pair of panties like a pervert. But fuck if it doesn’t feel good. A reprieve. A reminder of what’s waiting for him beyond the stress and the lies and the constant edge of violence.
Just for a second, everything fades. There’s no war, no reports, no blood. Just you.
He tucks the garment back into his pocket after a few more minutes of reminiscing, careful this time, like they’re something precious.
His smoke break’s forgotten. He doesn’t need it anymore. The ache in his lungs has been replaced with something more satisfying than the sting of nicotine.
all nighter incoming because i'm recalibrating my sleep schedule and all i can think about is könig squeezing onto the twin xl mattress topper with you to join you.
he's holding you by your legs, head slumped onto your tummy and voice sending ticklish vibrating over your skin from under your camisole. your pretty, fluffy comforter barely covers the expanse of his torso, calves and ankles dangling out awkwardly. . .he looks like a great big slab of meat with a tissue on top.
"sleep, schatzi," he mumbles in a way you might have construed as grumpy months before; but now you know that no matter how much he grumbles and complains at you, he'd stay up for weeks on end if you were too.
itty bitty thang for @rubyfrankenstein my love, but. . .butch(er) simon riley. . . 🤤
you're a nice girl. polite, quiet, a little young. . .and definitely too curious for your own good. a soft laugh, although simon's got no clue why in the world you're laughing in a place like her shop, where the counter's tucked aaaaall the way in the back and the only feature you can make out through the cast shadows and the harsh light are two dark eyes, watching as you drift through the selections.
but your curiosity knows no bounds, of course, and so you venture closer. warm and tucked into yourself, you bring with you something like frangipani and goat's milk, watching a little too intently as her arms flex with the effort of hauling down a slab of pork.
simon notices. of course she does. maybe she catches your eye as she slams her cleaver through bone, fingers curled around the handle in a way that makes your mouth go dry. maybe that makes the sharp glint in her eyes catch the fluorescence a little brighter.
one day, you finally pipe up with a question outside of the usual employee-and-customer dialogue.
"you make it look so easy."
simon stills, watching you like a hunter would watch a hare in the brush. you don't budge, your smile sweet and a little disarming. she huffs out what you can almost trick yourself into believing is the tail end of a laugh, crossing those delicious arms as she stares down at you.
"'s not."
you tilt your head, an exhale from laughing. you can be mysterious too, you think. "i know. that's why i like watching you."
she's quiet; then, a full laugh. . .or, as much of a laugh as as a deep sigh can be. "y' got strange tastes, girl."
"and you don't?"
simon turns to face you from where she's begun to lift the knife again, the mean glint of it sending a pinprick of something curling in your lower belly.
"you lookin' t' find out?"
"s– simon, fuck, oh fuc– oh my god–"
and now she's laughing, low and a little mean as she bullies two fingers into your weeping cunt. "yeah? wha's th' matter, baby? begged so nicely for it earlier w' those big eyes, and now y' can't even tell me what y' want?"
you cry out, nails pinching into the cushions of simon's beat-up leather couch as she works her wrist in that way that makes you see stars. the butt of her palm is bumping against your clit with each pass, and god–
"please," you mewl, thighs struggling to clamp around her thick torso. "oh my fucking– mm–"
simon brings her free hand up, patting your cheek with her fingers to get you to open her eyes.
"words, sweet thing."
fuck, you feel like you could sob. "please, please, simon– h– haah– harder, harder, oh my god ohmygod–"
another laugh barks up from simon's throat as she obliges, fucking her fingers into you with reckless abandon. "that it, baby? just listen t' you. . .harder, harder, pleaaaase—god, y'r so fucking whiny."
you hiccup around a moan, your back twitching as it bows up and off the couch. you can barely form words, too overwhelmed by the orgasms she's tugging out of you one by one. her teeth descend on your throat, sinking into your skin like you're a piece of meat she wants a cut of.
"yeah, honey, keep whining f' me. . .won't be able to make a sound when 'm done w' you."
Fantasizing about Zodyl and his newborn baby girl. She's about as big as his palm, and he treats her like she's glass — tucking her little feet against his chest, and supporting her neck and her back with his hands seemingly twice the size of her. He'll rock side to side ever so slightly, or he's sitting on the edge of the hospital bed and leaning into you — holding the baby like she's precious treasure (she is), and resting his chin atop her small head. Zodyl doesn't ever want kids, he doesn't want to burden them with the strife of the Ground. But, occasionally, he does dream about holding a tiny little baby in his hands thats a perfect mix of you and him.
In the hot afternoon sun, Kakashi is in the process of getting washed in a taijutsu spar.
This is not an experience that is entirely new to him; Gai has power, skill, and reach on him, even when they're playing around in front of their genin teams. Sasuke had started cheering for Gai about twenty minutes ago, the little traitor, and Sakura and Naruto had been swift to follow suit. Lee and Tenten had shortly thereafter started half-heartedly cheering for Kakashi after that out of pity, which only highlighted how painfully poorly this was going for him.
Kakashi is psyching himself out.
He has a lot going on, you see. Preparing the team for the exams, trying to figure out how to best run interference between a still-healing pair of ex-missing Kiri nin and some of the nosier elements of the intelligence apparatus, the repressed sexuality one of those said formerly Kiri-nin has dragged out of him kicking and screaming, and now coming to grips with the fact that Gai has edged him out by a full two points, and if Kakashi loses this spar, it's going to be three. Three points. And a loss in front of his genin, who are cheering against him. Quite a bit on the line.
There's also, of course, Kakashi's absent consideration of the sweat-slick nape of Gai's strong neck and shoulders, the way the corded muscle of his forearms flexes when he makes a fist, his eager grin as he rains relentless stinging blows on Kakashi's guard. The casual strength in his powerful thighs when he kicks Kakashi in the gut hard enough that he skids back almost ten feet with a groan, forcing him to duck and roll out of the way of his follow-up strike. So damn cheerful about it too, laughing and calling out a "Quick thinking, my Rival!" as Kakashi narrowly avoids another blow from him.
The next time he glances over at their little gaggle of children, there is a looming figure among them that very much does not belong. Kakashi curses under his breath, the little of it he has. Gai's gaze follows his own and he grins when he spots Zabuza, calling out a cheerful "Hello, Momochi-san!", not even hesitating to throw another tightly controlled punch to the side of Kakashi's head.
Gai laughs aloud when Kakashi curses at him this time, because he knows he has this spar in the bag, and the score will be 117-120, Gai's favor. The next punch he throws is just slightly too wide, and Kakashi shoves at his wrist and steps into his guard-- if this were a real fight, he'd take this opportunity to try and slip a blade between his third and fourth ribs and-- it's not a real fight so he split-second considers slamming his forehead into his nose just to bloody his grinning, handsome face a little bit before he loses badly but-- the medic nin a few weeks ago had cried "what, another fucking concussion? You've got to be kidding me!" when he'd come into the hospital and--
An Idea hatches. It's not a good one. His split-second Ideas rarely are.
But Gai looks terribly handsome in the hot afternoon sun, scuffed and dirty with nearly all of that intense focus and joy locked on Kakashi. Kakashi likes it, likes the way he looks at him, and he's always been afraid of how much he likes it, but he's seriously going to lose this spar if he doesn't do something, and--
Lightning-quick, the hand not gripping Gai's wrist comes up carefully to settle on Gai's cheek, and the other man freezes when Kakashi pushes his face close. He's been headbutted by Kakashi before, but he's never seen this--
Their lips are still separated by the cloth of the mask, but Kakashi can smell the spice and sour-sweat of him through it easily this close, can feel Gai's jaw slacken, can feel the summer-fever heat of his skin, and he abruptly wants no audience at all, wants to drag his mask down and bite at him and taste him and--
Sorry, he's got to finish this spar before their audience screams any louder. Naruto's outraged shriek has probably woken every dead Kage in all of the Shinobi villages.
Gai's shock makes it easy to leverage his weight and throw him over his hip like a ragdoll. Kakashi releases him instead of following him to the ground, not trusting himself to be able to get off of him if he follows through and pins him. The children. They stare. Kakashi's chest heaves. Gai's expression twists. Kakashi holds up his hand, and announces, "Point, me."
"Dishonorably fought, Rival, but I concede the point; one hundred and eighteen to one hundred and nineteen, my favor," Gai grumbles, starting to push himself up on his elbows as the genin wail about their eyes. Kakashi holds out a hand for him, which he takes, so he can't be too mad at him.
"A shinobi uses all available tools and tricks at their disposal," Kakashi replies wryly. "You left me a perfect opening. Would you rather I have split my forehead open on your chin again?"
Guilt starts to eat at him through the adrenaline when Gai just frowns unhappily at him, starting to glance away. Panic comes soon after, and Kakashi reaches out with his left hand to grip Gai's chin none-too-gently to hold him still, and he presses another masked kiss to his slack lips, and then one on the corner of his mouth, and then another one on his cheek.
Gai starts to wrestle with him, and Kakashi releases him before that turns into round two. He's exhausted, and hot, and he wants some water. He's kind of figuring out that he wants to lick Gai too, which is going to have to get Discussed later, he's sure. Especially with the confused expression his friend wipes off his face to beam at his little students and try to turn this into a teachable moment.
Naruto is still screaming. Sasuke has already walked away, and Sakura has her head in her hands. "Shut the hell up," Kakashi calls cheerfully. "Or the next lesson you brats get is going to be survival training for another week."
I waited so long / And now I taste jasmine on my tongue / And I feel so proud to be alive / And I feel so proud when the reckoning arrives
— SUE STORM AND HER PURSUIT OF THE FUTURE FOUNDATION , TAKING THE WORLD BY STORM .
“ THE FUTURE OF A BETTER TOMORROW , OUR PROMISE AND UNITY TO HUMANITY’S BEST PROTECTION & FOR FUTURE GENERATIONS TO COME . ” — Susan Storm .
( an original drabble article , reported by kylie . mutuals are very encouraged to interact + reference to. personals dni. )
THE FUTURE FOUNDATION WANTS YOU ! please consider your contribution to support this initiative.
Located at the heart of New York City, the Baxter Building has become not just a home for our beloved superheroes but a community , ‘a family’ as Dr. Susan Storm likes to refer, a place for the public to feel united as one. Susan Storm takes the stand once again to address the future of the world and her advocacy for unity through the Future Foundation Movement.
The future foundation founded by Mr. Reed Richards, fellow Fantastic Four member, serves as the ‘hub’ for solutions to our world’s current problems as well as an organisation funded by Mr. Richards himself and with the leadership of Sue Storm to assist our gifted geniuses and individuals who want to pursue to achieve their greatest potentials and a promise to shape the generations to come with like-minded solutions in hopes to build a stronger and more promising future.
After the events of Galactus, the biggest threat to our earth’s unpredictable future, defeated by The Fantastic Four, there is much talks already about future threats Earth may face again. What then? She is confident and radiant with such courage. A greater sense of purpose and her commitment to take her stand as her speech was empowering, much so as touching to the very night she had taken a stand for her child, as a promise to serve and fight for humankind.
“ I stand here before you, as we continue our journey as not just your heroes but your family. After many of our challenges, you have been there to witness and continue to trust us as we defeated earth’s greatest threats since our return from space. It’s not easy, and it will never be. There are always going to be sacrifices that we do not take lightly. These powers have become our defining purpose of what we stand for, unity. But like I said, I will not sacrifice this world for my child, and that includes you. All of you. We will always strive to put our foot one step ahead, as long as we come together. This is our world, and to protect it, we have to stick together. The future foundation will not just be an organisation but a home for the future generations to come, and our promise to protect and serve the future of tomorrow. as long as we are united as one. As family. ” — Susan Storm
After four years of their accolades as our protectors, Galactus has become the incredible example of their sacrifice as Earth’s heroes. The Future Foundation now opens its doors to like-minded individuals from scientists to gifted backgrounds, for you! please consider your contribution to support this initiative. Here’s to counting more of their undying dedication and commitment for Earth’s safety.
