Tamaki + Kisses!

More stuff ;]

Rly love that one scene sm....ft. fem phaidei cause m me

https://www.tumblr.com/starheavenly/770700367672623104/2-lockets

Hello, hello! I love your content, and I’d like to share some thoughts on how Deadlock/Drift and Ratchet might react to the events in the post above.

I firmly believe that Locket’s death would leave permanent scars on both of them. No matter the timeline, it would be one of their greatest regrets. However, I think it would hit even harder for the parent Locket chose to follow

For AUTOBOT!LOCKET

I imagine Ratchet would be utterly shattered upon discovering that Locket—his child—had died in what was initially reported as a “mysterious work incident.” And later on, his grief would only deepen when the truth was revealed: they were murdered. Possibly brutally. Violently. And he wasn’t there for them.

The last time Ratchet saw Locket was during their fallout. He likely told himself there would be time later—time to mend the rift that had grown between them, to fix things. But now, that time is gone.

His child is dead.

His baby.

The bright spark he and Deadlock/Drift created together has been ripped away, and all Ratchet can do is drown in self-loathing for failing them. He wasn’t there when they needed him most.

(And I absolutely believe Dratchet would become full-on murderous when the truth came out—especially Drift—towards Pharma, their child’s murderer.)

For DECEPTION!LOCKET

Deadlock/Drift would be haunted by the belief that Locket’s ultimate demise is entirely his fault. Locket, his precious sparklet, had followed him after all. He settled the example, showed them how to walk a darker road, and now that choice has cost him everything.

If only he’d done something different. If only he’d been better—a better father, a better example, a better everything. Maybe Locket would still be alive. The knowledge that they died in service to a cause he once believed in would feel like a cruel twist of fate, one he could never forgive himself for.

(Ratchet, upon learning the truth and Locket’s fate, would absolutely let Drift have it. Absolutely beating him down with words, with no mercy. And Drift would take it—every blow, every word—because he knows he deserves it.)

Locket, their spark, their child, was gone, and the weight of that loss would haunt them both for the rest of their lives.

(Thank you for listening to my rambling, and for your time! Have a lovely night or day!)

MY SATURDAY MORNING ANGST!!!! I knew people would go crazy for those AU's..... But thank you for writing these up omg you're totally correct in all of it!! Although I will never admit to who killed Locket, DJD or Pharma, it's up to the fans. I will say.... If you want some extra angst I would like to remind you that Locket literally is a mix of Ratchet and Drift's sparks so.... those two did not need to be told that Locket passes away. They can just feel it.

Overwhelming Emotions - Grimmjow Jaegarjaquez

A/N: So life has been turbulent and just stressful lately? And amidst the chaos, this little idea popped into my head wondering what it would be like to have Grimmjow comforting me when I'm overwhelmed. So I have been working on this for the last few days! Is it a kind of silly idea just because of HOW Grimmjow is? Probably—but I also like thinking that despite the fact he's an aggressive guy, once he's in a relationship he'd try his best to figure everything out? Even if he's rough around the edges and struggling a bit.

GN!Reader

💗Fluff - Hurt/Comfort💗 Warnings - Swearing, Grimmjow being frustrated/aggressive in the beginning

1,000 Words

He wasn’t sure which was more pathetic—how you looked all curled up on the bed with your blanket pulled up past your head, or how he felt inside looking at you in such a state. Either way? Grimmjow hated it. It irritated him to hear the silent little sobs you were trying so hard to hold back, it pissed him off that you wouldn’t talk to him, and it made his blood boil to not know what was wrong with you or how to fix it.  

Grimmjow moved from his place in your doorway to your bedside, trying gently at first to pull your blanket off—only to be met with resistance. He clicked his tongue, “Hey, what the hell is your problem?” He grunted, using more force in an attempt to rip you out of your cocoon and failing, “Seriously dumbass? Get the fuck out of there and talk to me! Are you sick or somethin’? Come on!” His tone got more and more frustrated as he tried so hard to wrestle that stupid, fluffy barrier that kept you separated from him.  

The Arrancar just wanted to look at you at this point, whether or not you were angry with him after he took the dumb blanket from you? He didn’t care—he just needed to see your eyes, feel your weak little punches on his shoulder, hear you shout at him. Anything but that sad whimpering that somehow seemed to be getting louder and louder in his ears.  

But you didn’t give, pulling the blanket from his grip and tucking it further and tighter around you as you scrunched into an even smaller little ball. Grimmjow roared, kicking the dresser that sat next to your bed with a loud *thunk*, “DAMMIT! STOP BEING SO STUBBORN!” He shouted, only making you weep more; the little lump that was your body violently trembling. 

Grimmjow groaned, clenched fists hitting the top of the now messed-up dresser as he took one long, deep breath. He wasn’t trying to scare you; you were the last person he actually wanted to scare—ever. But he didn’t know how to express or explain that weird, grating feeling that seemed to brew inside of what he thought was a once-dead and empty heart. That strange, uncomfortable, nagging pain that seemed to grow the more you cried in front of him.  

He could feel a pang in his heart as he heard you, an unpleasant and annoying feeling of guilt for scaring you creeping inside of him and making him even more angry. It wasn’t any big secret that Grimmjow wasn’t the best with emotions, nor was he the most comforting or patient person to deal with—much less be in a relationship with. All he knew was chaos and rage, not how to tell from moment to moment how you felt or what to do about it. 

He needed you to tell him what was wrong. You’d guided him through so much in your relationship so far, telling him how to act or what to say in certain situations. He always acted annoyed and bothered by it, teasing you about how dumb it all was. Who were you to give orders to a powerful being such as him anyway? But now, as a wave of stress, guilt, confusion, and anger washed over him, he wanted your nagging words more than anything. 

How could he help you? What could he do to make you stop crying? What could he do to get rid of that aching feeling in his chest? How could he protect you from something he didn’t understand? All he wanted more than anything was to just hold you, keep you safe, feel your heartbeat so all of his nerves could stop standing on end—so he could stop worrying about you. 

Grimmjow sighed, clenching his fists so tight that his knuckles turned white as he heard your cries get even more strained, your breathing labored as you hiccupped in between each sob. “Fuck it.” He muttered to himself, stomping around your room to the other side of the bed. He collapsed onto your mattress with enough force that you bounced upwards, adjusting himself to face what he assumed was your back. 

He could feel you tense up for a moment as he snaked one hand underneath your blanket and onto your stomach, pulling you softly yet snugly against his body, leaving no space between you and him. He buried his nose into the blanket, closing his eyes as he took a deep inhale of your familiar and comforting scent. He didn’t know if this was the right thing to do—but all his instincts told him was he needed to feel you, hold you, do something other than just stand there like an idiot 

“Sorry, I got so pissed off and scared you, baby.” He mumbled into you, pressing kisses against your blanketed form “It wasn’t your fault, I...got nervous and didn’t know what to do when I saw you like this. I have a lot of this idiotic relationship shit to still learn, don’t I?” He joked, earning a mixture of a cry and a laugh from you. 

“Yeah...you do.” You finally said shakily, your voice hoarse, putting your own hand over his. He chuckled lightly in response, pulling you even somehow tighter against him. You started to relax a little the longer he held you, your sobs continuing on for a few minutes more as he did nothing but draw little patterns with his fingers across your torso and whispered "Love ya" over and over.  

If you wanted to hide under that dumb blanket? Grimmjow wasn’t going to stop you. But as long as he could be next to you as you hid from the world under there, crying whatever you needed to get out of your system? He wasn’t going to let you do it alone—and he sure as hell was going to murder whatever got you feeling like this afterward.  

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soft gojo meeting his newborn hc, pleaaasee??

｡.*｡☆ﾟ 🕰️ 11.10 p.m

soft dad!gojo drove me to have another baby fever for the ntn time. you just have to put this idea in my head don’t you dear anon, and right after i stumbled into the above pic in pinterest too🤧

a part of gojo's love entries

the thing was so tiny, precious and squishy. it fit right in his hands, so red and fragile, almost like a toy—

only it was not. it was a real, living baby. his son, partly made by his own flesh and blood—his to protect.

“hello to you, my little minion,” satoru whispered to his newborn, wonderstruck by the sight of this small but clearly alive being. his eyes glazed, his fingers delicately tracing the baby's face, body, and tiny feet. “i’m your dad, yeah?”

his own soft voice sounded foreign to him. but at this moment, as he was utterly mesmerized by the sight of little human that just came out of you, his beloved wife, he couldn’t care less.

he had always imagined how his brat would look like. he even joked with you about how he’d get his good looks—and heck, the gods did hear him and this baby in his arms was the most handsome baby he had ever seen, blessed with his white hair and softest skin, as well as the rosiest cheeks.

his only dismay was that he also inherited the bluest of eyes, the curse in his family line.

well, but that’s a problem for another day.

he settled his newborn into the hospital's nursery crib, and nudged his pudgy cheeks once again. not even half a day had passed since he was born, and gojo satoru had developed a severe cuteness aggression for his son. he swore he’d spoil him rotten, shower him love he never truly experienced from his own parents, and of course, keep him safe.

with his heart full, he left the baby as he slept, and went back to your room.

in the very same predicament as your baby, you were still fast asleep. you were visibly exhausted, your hair was a tangled mess, and there was a line of dried blood along your lips—caused by accidentally biting them too hard earlier, during your labor pains.

even in the state of disarray, satoru still thought you looked ethereal, too good for him.

he ran his fingers through your hair, smoothing them, and he regretted it when your face scrunched up and your eyes fluttered open. “…hmm? satoru?”

“hey, sweets. how are you feeling?”

“i still feel like being split into two… but yeah, i’ll manage.”

“shush, of course. you feel that way often, each time when i—”

“don’t,” you warned, glaring at him. “i just birthed your heir, gojo satoru. don’t even start.”

satoru burst into a laugh so hearty and he realized he truly loved this dynamics with you. and that he was grateful for you.

he wanted to thank you for all that you had done for him. for returning his feelings. for marrying him. for going through that pain to bring his son to the world—

and most of all, for still being here. for staying alive to live another day with him.

“i saw him just now. our baby is perfect.”

“really? i want to meet him too…”

“soon, dear. when you’re a little better, i’ll take you to him.”

but he wasn’t the best with words. and so even if he were to pour his heart out, everything would be condensed into this one sentence.

you were excited at the prospect of meeting your baby, when suddenly satoru leaned in to plant a kiss on your forehead.

“i love you so damn much… you know?”

🐱🍞

Hollow Heartstrings

Summary: Grimmjow misses you crazy, and he's uncertain about how to cope with these feelings... or the unexpected desires you've ignited within him.

A/N: So, remember the poll about which character you wanted to read smut from? Well, Grimmjow won! And no, I didn't forget, I was just really busy, but today is the day I finally deliver! Yei! Hope you like it!

WARNINGS: NSFW / bruising/marking / generally light and not as explicit. Grimmjow can't do soft

AO3

--------

Grimmjow had come to care. Although he was unable to decide if what he disliked the most was that fact, or that he had flinched back when you tried to caress his bone mask, as if a single touch of yours could ruin him. It was beyond ridiculous, something Grimmjow hated to lose his temper about, yet here he was, butchering a seemingly powerful Arrancar to vent his frustration.

The fight ended just as he was starting to enjoy it. Blood trickled down the side of his pectoral, staining what was left of his torn clothes. Grimmjow snorted as he gazed at the lifeless body of the beast he had pulverized without even using his sword. Gradually, the monstrous panther claws on his hands and feet returned to their normal state.

This had been his routine for quite a while now, eating and killing to avoid thinking. There was just one tiny problem: when the ecstasy of battle faded, his mind couldn't help but drift back to you, and that dreadful moment when he decided to let you impossibly close to him. How wrong it was, how good it felt. 

And so he sought the next fight, and the next one, and the next one, expecting— if not hoping raw flesh to wash such cravings off. However, and much to his dismay, Grimmjow found that no amount of bloodshed could wash away the lingering bites that still burned on him, making his mind spin around the warmth of your skin, the beat of your heart, your nails digging into his back.

Shit. Why wasn’t he strong enough to resist it? Ah, fuck it. He didn’t need to, you’ll have to be strong enough to take it. You started it, didn’t you? Now you’ll deal with it.

- .*.*.*.

He entered through your window, his eyes scanning the unusual darkness in your room. Your scent permeated the air, filling his nostrils, causing a twisted sensation of excitement to wash over him. His instincts tore at his back in a shudder. He shouldn't feel this way in territory that wasn't his own, and yet...

"Grimmjow?" Your voice sounded weak, trembling. "What are you doing here?"

Were you sick? He took a deep breath. Didn’t smell like you were.

You let out a shaky breath he recognized in a heartbeat. Grimmjow did his best to restrain the ironclad urge to seek out whatever was making you cry and obliterate it down to the very last cell.

"What's wrong with you?" 

"I had a terrible week. My boss is killing me, my back is killing me, and— I thought you didn’t wanna come around anymore.”

He frowned as a tense sensation churned within his gut. He had been avoiding you, and you had noticed. Grimmjow hoped you wouldn't be astute enough to deduce the reasons behind his evasive actions.

“Why not?” 

Grimmjow’s voice was strong as ever, even when he spoke casually.

“I thought you just didn’t want to after what we did.” you hesitated. He could make out in the dark your indecision to continue.  “I thought maybe it was a mistake. We won’t do it again.”

He frowned, ignoring how everything in his body throbbed in aversion at what you say. In a heartbeat, he flipped you over, positioning himself above you.

“You don’t get to decide for me.”

It caught you off guard, but as you absorbed the profound craving within his gaze, it became evident Grimmjow had been struggling to comprehend his emotions and his enjoyment of them. Hollows are not made for feelings. They aren’t supposed to yearn. Yet, he stood before you, conveying through every fiber of his being that he desired it.

Your lips curled in a soft smile. “You’re right. So, do I take it as you missed me?”

“Ha! You wish. Ya still owe me a couple's favors, y'know? I'm just making' sure ya don't kick the bucket 'fore ya pay up." 

God, how you loved that smirk. 

“Then I’ll be sure to pay,” you said softly, running your fingers gently along the edge of his jaw. Grimmjow repressed a shiver. His gaze fell to your lips just before he leaned in, trapping your mouth. He kissed you with a roughness that was undeniably his own. You sighed against his lips when he deepened it. 

Grimmjow breathed heavily against you, enjoying the flickers bubbling in his blood as you traced his sides with your hands. Your nails delicately outlined his bone mask. His instincts flitted like one of those red alarm-lights in the human world, warning him: too close, too exhilarating, too good. Grimmjow growled against your lips, his teeth piercing them as he held back a moan. The taste of blood eased him.

Your fingers entwined in his hair as he pressed your body against his, suppressing any space between you. His palms eagerly roamed your torso, caressing and squeezing. His kiss was deep, messy, and still a bit inexpert. However, he managed to make it good. You pulled apart gasping for some air. Grimmjow eyed you from above. There was a mix of slyness, desire, and a half-smile that stole your breath away. 

The veins on his hands vaulted on his skin as he exerted force through the fabric of your clothes. He tore them. You didn’t care for anything that wasn’t bringing him closer. You pulled at his clothes and in one breath, Grimmjow took them off too. 

You both let out a groan as you felt skin against skin. Grimmjow stopped short, his breathing coming down to a slight vibration that sounded like a large cat purring. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders tense.

You rested your forehead against his, silently granting him space to adjust. The cold emanating from the hole in his belly seemed to suck icy air into it, it was the only way you could think of to describe it as you felt it against your skin.

“It’s alright,” you eased.

“Shut up, I know. I can take it,” he gasped. 

His hot breath close to your ear, added to the shake of his voice gave you goosebumps. You nibbled at his ear. Grimmjow cursed under his breath. He bit your shoulder before pushing the back of your tights to settle between your legs. 

His hot breath close to your ear, summed with the shake of his voice, gave you goosebumps. You nibbled at his ear. Grimmjow cursed under his breath. He bit your shoulder before pushing the back of your tights to settle between your legs. 

This was the first time Grimmjow had taken the initiative, and although it was a bit messy and desperate, you couldn't help but feel the warm sensation spreading inside your chest. As inhumane as he was, Grimmjow had come to enjoy this kind of intimacy with you. 

You spread your folds for him and sighed as he slid in. He couldn't suppress the deep groan that mixed with a purr. 

“Shit,” he whined. 

You knew exactly how much self-respect he was relinquishing for this, as his immediate reaction was to bury his face in the crook of your neck before holding you closer.

There was no space left between your bodies, and the only audible sound aside from the rain pouring on the window was Grimmjow's hitched breath. He struggled to resist simply discarding rational thinking and surrendering to the delicious fire spreading through his veins. He lost the fight as soon you started caressing the edges of his hollow hole from his back. 

Grimmjow thrust in with a loud grunt. You whimpered at the feeling of him reaching deep inside you. A tipsy smile was drawn on your face just when he picked up a pace, rough and desperate. Holding you so tight, you may've thought letting go could end him, and Grimmjow didn’t give two damns about looking weak anymore. 

It was more than perfect: sharing moans with him, his warm skin against your own, his very self moving within you, enjoying it without holding back. 

“Fuck I love it,” you breathed. “You’re fucking hot.”

Grimmjow eyed you then, wearing the darkest expression you've ever seen on him. The intensity of his gaze seemed to convey: "I own you. You're mine. You won't leave. I won’t let you. You're mine. Mine. Mine. Mine—"

He bit your neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You hissed. His thrust became erratic as he quickened his pace. Grimmjow's breath grew hastier by the second, and at this point, he didn't care for the sound of his moans. He was frantic, eager for release, unaware of the force he was placing on his grip on your thighs.

You opened your legs wider, pushing him further against you so that your front rubbed against his lower belly. It was enough to tie the knot, and you came loud and long, digging your nails on his shoulder and down on his hip.

The pulsations inside you triggered his peak. His teeth dug into the flesh of your shoulder so hard it burned. A warm liquid spreading inside you eased the pain. When the bolts of pleasure finally smothered to a wonderful feeling of after-bliss, Grimmjow replaced his fangs with his lips as he pressed them onto your bruised skin, surprisingly soft.

“I’m glad you came back.” you managed after catching your breath.

Grimmjow huffed, “I never left.”

It sure as hell wasn't his intention, but that was one of the sweetest things he told you since you met.

What a bastard.

Baby Food

Tamaki Amajiki x Reader  (Dad! Tamaki x Mom! Reader)

Warnings: None! It’s just family fluff :’)

Word Count: 1.6 K

Summary: You, Tamaki, and your adorable little daughter are back for another adventure! This time, she’s trying out solid food for the first time. ♡ 

  Even when it was just the two of you, the house you shared with Tamaki had always felt like a home, with an aura that was consistently swarming with a soft feeling of warmth, love, and affection.

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