Tumgik
kitkatscabinet · 14 days
Note
— also i can’t stress this enough that you don’t have to post that publicly, my intent isn’t to bully them or anything. just to bring awareness since it happened to me with them spam liking my explicit posts <33
(also i’m so sorry that your ask game drabble request has taken so long 😭)
In regards to prev ask it’s absolutely fine lovely đŸ„°. Thanks for the warning, I haven’t been on tumblr much lately cause of work but it’s heartwarming to know people are looking out for me ❀
2 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 16 days
Text
I get why people are into Durgetash but honestly? Gortash and Tav? That’s my drug. Inject it straight into my veins.
Tav being essentially a nobody suddenly storming into the city he worked decades on subjugating, scoffing an Elle Woods-like “What, like it’s hard?” on the way into his coronation, and the man takes one look at Tav WHO HE NEVER EVEN HEARD OF BEFORE THE ABSOLUTE BUSINESS (which, in-game is months, if not weeks before the abduction) and goes: I’m gonna change my whole life plan for you. We’ll share power. YOU are my equal, let’s spend our lives together.
The fact that Tav is so intriguing to him makes me go FERAL, honestly
And then Tav, especially on a good play through, dares to get RUINED by a fucking edgelord Banite.
It’s the absolute enemies to lovers trope. There is no comparison, NONE
442 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 29 days
Text
Tumblr media
the heat that drives the light
aemond targaryen x tyrell!oc
wc: 1.3k
summary: when aemond is betrothed to the elusive heir to highgarden, he finds that no one will tell him anything about her. he sets out to change that
cw: this is sort of a prologue. NOT x reader so dont bother me about it, blind oc, hints of period typical ableism, period typical sexism, aemond is an ass but we'll work at it
read on ao3, divider by saradika
Tumblr media Tumblr media
It doesn't surprise Aemond that he would be the one in his family saddled with a political marriage. In his own family, there are no women left for him. With Helaena married to Aegon, and Daemon’s daughters betrothed to his nephews, there is little other option. It only makes sense. However, that does not mean he has to like it. Hatred is born of the illogical.
When he was told he would wed the daughter of the Lord of Highgarden, he tried to say no. His mother would not hear it.
“You have denied three suitors already,” Alicent had said to her second son. “Your options are running out. You will marry the Tyrell girl, and that is the end of it.”
“I will not,” Aemond had grumbled. But his mother had not budged, and the engagement was sealed between himself and the only child of the Lord of Highgarden.
No one had told Aemond much about her, except that she was comely and that he would like her. He refused to go into a marriage with a girl he did not know, and the little he had been told was making him suspicious. Why hide her from him? The amount of times he’s heard comely makes him think she is some sort of beast to look upon.
He knows that in marrying her, he’ll be marrying the future Lady of Highgarden. It would be a position most powerful, as he assumes that a Lady’s husband would bear the brunt of the lordship. It makes perfect sense. Part of him is satisfied with the possibility of an ugly wife for the promise of power, but most of him is still just a man. How can anyone expect him to produce an heir with a twisted and ugly wife? He’d need to be blind in the other eye as well.
Cecily Tyrell arrives on a warm day, when the wind turns right so that the Red Keep smells of the flowers in the gardens rather than the stink of the city. He knows that their families mean for them to be kept apart until the ceremony, but he also knows this castle and its secrets better than most. Being forced out of the Keep and into stinking brothels by Aegon was not completely without merit.
He hears from a passing servant which room Lady Cecily will be staying in until the wedding, and pauses a moment to hear them whisper.
“Overlooking the Godswood,” says the young maidservant. Aemond has half a mind to admonish them for gossiping, before he remembers that it may be their job to know where she’s staying. “I hear it is so she can smell it all.”
Smell it all?
Aemond fails to decipher the meaning before he stops listening and leaves to find the girl. Once in the right hallway, he leans close to the doors as he passes them by. He suspects she will not be alone, undoubtedly accompanied by her ladies or a septa, if she's so young– he has not been told of her age either. Is he to be wed to a child? Or, Gods forbid, a wretched old spinster good only for her family's fortune?
He stops when he hears conversation behind one of the doors, hushed by the wood and carried by soft tones. Women, young ones.
The prince does not waste time in knocking. If there is unseemly behaviour, he will catch it, and if not, he does not care to look polite. He opens the heavy door as fluidly as he can manage, some part of him annoyed that his future wife is without the watch of a kingsguard.
The first woman he sees is facing away from him, sitting on an armchair. He can't see much of her but the long chestnut hair that flows down her back, strands pulled back and braided with budding flowers, and her hand which feels along the intricately carved arm of the chair. The second woman he sees is facing him, and she’s standing up in her shock.
It's clear from the look on her face she recognises Aemond, or at least has connected the dots from the way he may have been described to her. The woman facing away from him stiffens, and slowly reaches out to take the other woman’s hand as she too stands from her seat.
Why does she not face me? He wonders. Does she care not for the intruder in her chamber?
“Who is it?” asks the first woman who he assumes is Cecily, voice soft and melodic.
Aemond steps a few paces closer, a frown pulling down his lips.
“You smell of flame and ash, stranger,” says the first woman. Holding the other’s hand tight, she turns. Aemond catches sight of her other hand, now tracing over the embroidered patterns on her dress.
It is a fair reading of his smell, perhaps he ought to have bathed between the dragonpit and here.
“Cecily,” murmurs the second woman, confirming Aemond’s suspicions. “It is him.”
Cecily has turned, and for a moment Aemond cannot understand why she has been kept from him. As he was so heavily promised, she is comely and delicate as they come, a rose made woman. The moment of ignorance passes, and Aemond sees. He sees that she does not.
Though she faces him, Cecily’s eyes look past him– they do not look at all. His betrothed is blind.
Aemond suddenly feels the victim of a cruel folly.
“Him,” Cecily echoes, hand stilling against her dress. A small smile spreads on her lips, and Aemond thinks that no amount of good looks or pretty smiles can make up for the humiliation he has been afforded in their betrothal. “A stranger smelling of smoke and fire, who makes my companion’s voice quiver. I can draw no conclusion but my betrothed.”
Aemond’s eye flickers to the other lady, who looks petrified by his presence whereas Cecily does not seem particularly moved by it. “You’ll forgive my intrusion,” he says after a moment too long. It is rare he finds himself lost for words.
“I may,” she said, pulling the other woman closer. “Flora, help me.”
The other girl, Flora, carefully takes hold of Cecily’s arm, leading her forward with as much confidence as Aemond supposes she can muster.
“I cannot say I expected to meet you like this, my prince,” Cecily says. As she draws nearer, Aemond can see the greyish film over her irises. If he had not known it the moment she faced him, he would see it in her eyes now. “Without an appropriate chaperone. My dear cousin is responsible and will ensure there is no impropriety between us, though.”
Aemond looks to Flora, another Tyrell if Cecily’s words and the roses on her dress are to be believed. Could it not have been her? She is pretty enough, he cares not that she is a mere cousin to the heir. It would be less of a humiliation than being paired with an invalid simply because his own vision is halved.
Cecily and Flora curtsey to him, and he does not hide his displeasure.
“I had no improper intentions, Lady Cecily,” he says, voice clipped. “I only meant to look upon my betrothed before she approaches me at the altar. Our families mean to keep us apart, and I wished to see why.”
Cecily’s smile is still playing at her lips. It would look smug on anyone else, but she manages only to look coy and gentle. “I can imagine you’ve reached a conclusion?”
“Mmm,” hums Aemond, thankful she cannot see his scowl. If Flora tells her of it later, so be it. “Several.”
“‘Tis not a birth defect,” she says after a moment. “If that is your worry.”
Aemond feels his jaw tense, his eye turning to the ground so he is not forced to look at her eyes any longer. He doesn’t know how to articulate what his worry is. He only knows he hates it, and he is trying his hardest not to hate her. It is not working.
Without another word, Aemond turns and leaves the room, not caring that Flora can see the upset rush in his hurried footsteps.
As he goes, he hears Cecily say to her companion, “He has gone? Did he look upset?”
He does not care to hear Flora’s answer.
76 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 1 month
Text
plush
pairing: soap mactavish x f!reader wc: 1.5k warnings: 18+/nsfw, slight plushiephilia (?), magical fuckery, instalove vibes, shitty ex notes: an unofficial entry to my own valentines writing challenge, for my beloved aj/@kitkatscabinet <3 its short and a bit shit, but its the thought that counts, right? peep my amazing tumblr style valentines day card here!!
Tumblr media
You remember the day you got him vividly, recalling every detail like it was yesterday, and not necessarily for the better. 
It was the first Valentine's day you were to have with your now ex-boyfriend, an occasion you'd been looking forward to for months. He wasn't the most romantic man in the world, but he knew how important the day was for you, knew how you dreamed of just having one day where you were spoiled rotten and doted on like a princess.
The day of, the man had forgotten. 
All the build up, anticipation, and excitement for nothing. He'd told you the morning off that he was off to work, with no real acknowledgement of the day or the significance it held for you. 
You had been entirely crushed, only somewhat soothed when he came home with an oversized, fluffy teddy, just for you. 
Despite the gift being mostly an afterthought—the receipt still in the bag told you he'd gone to the store on his lunch break—the bear was just so enchanting, so soft and cuddly that when you had it squeezed in your arms, you couldn't bring yourself to care about much else in the world.
That night, it was your plushie you had curled up with in your arms, your face snuggled into his brown-grey fur. That night, you'd drifted off to sleep, selfishly thinking of what it would be like to fall asleep in the arms of someone who made you feel as safe as your new fluffy friend. 
This year, you were determined for things to be different. Despite still reeling from your breakup, you resolved to make the day exactly what you'd always dreamed of,even if you were alone. 
So you started the day with a bit of pampering, climbing into sexy lingerie underneath a fresh, oversized shirt and barely-there shorts. You glammed yourself up just a little and spent the day at home surrounded by lit candles, heart-shaped balloons and the scent of freshly-baked cookies. 
When the night grew dark, you tucked up into bed to watch more movies until late, spending the entire time snuggled up with your precious plushie. It was normal for you to whisper sweet nothings to the wolf pup before bed, to throw out your usual movie discussion to him, and tonight was no different. 
You drift off with ease, feeling a sense of peace you haven't felt in a long time.
When your eyes flutter back open, you expect to see your vision obscured by fur and your room filled with light. You don't expect to see a pair of sparkling blue eyes twinkling in the dark, a pair of blue eyes you're all too familiar with.
"I'm still dreaming." You whisper in complete disbelief, yet the longer you look into the not-so-stranger's eyes, you find yourself not even believing those words. It's not a dream, he's real, and he's here. 
Your eyes rove over him and his handsome, masculine features, you take in the warmth that radiates off of him. 
"No dreams here, bonnie girl." His smile is wolfish, just like his plushie counterpart—full of mischief and mirth. "Couldnae stand seeing you so sad. It's our day." 
His grip on you tightens, pulling you deeper into his chest for you to cuddle close—to feel at home.
"Our day." You mumble, mostly to yourself, as you tangle yourself within him until you become one. You press your forehead against his, eyes fluttering shut as you embrace every euphoric feeling flowing through you.
The safety you felt when hugging him as a plushie is multiplied, as now he grips at your flesh and his breath brushes across your lips. 
He chuckles, a sweet sound you'd imagined a million times before. "Dinnae tell me you forgot when we first met." He teases. 
Valentine's day, that Valentine's day—when he'd been the only thing that made you smile. It's hard to comprehend that this time last year you were muffling your tears in his plush body, and now you're smiling so unstoppably in his embrace.  
"Of course I didn't." You whisper.
You feel his fingers brush over your curves as he eagerly takes you in, too. Unbeknownst to you, he's been aching for this moment since he first set his eyes on you—biding his time trapped inside the plush, until his love was strong enough to break him free of the curse that held him there. 
He'd watched in anger as you were mistreated, frustration as he witnessed your ex's attempts to please you between the sheets, and sadness as he watched you mend your broken heart. 
Unbridled energy thrums through him, a combination of returning to his human form and the overwhelming feeling of finally getting the woman he's loved from afar all this time. "Been waiting so long to finally have ye in ma arms." 
You bring your hand up to stroke at his stubbled cheek, as you try to ground yourself in the reality of the situation. You don't know how, but somehow all your fantasies had come true. "You're real." 
"Am real, lass, and am all yours." He swears solemnly. Neither of you know how long you have, but you know that no matter what, his words are the truth. "Can I kiss ye?" 
"Please." You whisper, before eagerly closing the gap between you, unable to wait even a moment longer. 
The second your lips touch, something in your heart feels like it slots right into place, and a sense of alignment washes over you, unlike anything you've felt before. This kind of peace is something you never felt with your ex, and barely seems real at all. 
Your lips continue to melt into his as he kisses you with fervour, equally hungry and sensual, deeply passionate and full of pent-up longing. 
You pull away, breathless, head spinning with lust and affection, as well as a lingering sense of confusion. It's obvious that he's actually in your arms, and you're not imagining it, but it's so wonderfully beyond your comprehension. 
"But how--" You start, before cutting yourself off. Too many questions, not enough time. 
"Conversation for another time." You both say in sync, rushing to return to each other's lips as you pour your love into each other. 
His kisses move from your lips to your soft cheeks, the curve of your jaw, the expanse of your neck. He nuzzles against you, nips with his teeth, then soothes them with kisses. You can feel his unrestrained smile against your skin, the eagerness in the way he grips at your hip and ruts into your clothed core with his hardness. "You feel better than I imagined." 
As his erection nudges against your clit, a shaky exhale passes your lips, a name uttered purely on instinct after a year of it tumbling around your head. "Johnny..." 
Something surges through him then, Johnny, something animalistic, as he rolls you beneath him and cages you between his arms. His hips slot against yours insistently, his eyes battle between darkening with arousal and sparkling in delight. "You know ma name." He almost growls. 
"I don't know how, but I do." 
His hands claw at your shirt, pushing it up your body to reveal the lace underneath. You hadn't worn it for him intentionally, but it also seems like the fates had called to you to put it on this morning, to be ready for this moment. 
He purrs, hungry like a true wolf, as he paws at the delicate material. "Need you, lass, cannae take it anymore." 
You push your hips into his, chasing more and more contact, more of the pleasure he so easily gives you. "Me either. Can't wait, please." 
For a moment, your mind flickers to your ex, how even on the rare occasions he tried to warm you up, he'd still struggle to make you feel much at all. With just a few kisses, and the feeling of his body against you, Johnny has you gushing, leaking down your thighs and aching with need. 
Thick fingers make their way across your delicate skin, leaving shivers in their wake. He pulls back enough to rid you of your panties, before his fingers find your sweet spot and start working on melting you beneath his touch. It was easy for Johnny, having seen the way you'd touched yourself so many times before. 
Whilst the sensation feels heavenly, and Johnny's eyes remain focused on yours as he drives you wild. You need more; you need him. 
"Please." You whine, unable to summon much more in the way of words as his fingers dip down to tease at your entrance.
Johnny fumbles with his clothes quickly, and sinks into you with an animalistic growl as his thick cock stretches you open in the most divine way. 
"Feels like home." He purrs, as he lays his muscular body over you and cages you in between the mattress and his cock. Once more, he nuzzles at your neck, as his cock kisses your insides and you adjust to the feeling of him inside you. 
You wrap your arms and legs around him instinctually, willing him closer and closer in to you, entwining yourselves completely. 
His hips remain still inside you, as the two of you embrace the feeling of finally being where you belong. He kisses you gently as he whispers, "All mine. Never letting ye go now." 
362 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 1 month
Text
Ten years late but anyway đŸ„°đŸ„°
Last song: H.S by Tom Cardy
Favourite colour: purple
Last movie: The Hangover
Sweet/spicy/savory: sweet
Last thing I searched: Medicare
Current obsession: Rick Grimes
NPT: @bookobsessedram @tinfairies @agent-barnes40
Tagged by @castanierprosper :D
Last song: ‘On and On (About Your)’, by Bowling for Soup! I just really like the part where they switch to Spanish for a verse X3
Favorite color: dark green as well :D
Last movie: Operation Finale. Boy oh boy that was harrowing ;-;
Sweet, spicy, or savory: Sweet, I’m a tiny baby who can’t do spice 🙃
Last thing I searched: “Julian X-Com 2 voice actor”, lol—I had to make sure! I’ve got a thing for that guy sdnfskvndfojbn
Current obsession: X-Com lol akdksofivjdf frankly I’m awful at it, I find it way way way too hard
 but I like it anyway, I’m gonna get good ;-;
Tagging (only if they want to) @dead-pidove-do-not-eat , @ariel-seagull-wings , @thealmightyemprex
160 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
So I know I haven’t been as active as normal lately but it’s about to become even worse, because I’ve got accepted into a full time job🎉🎉 !!!
I work 8-15:30 weekdays and as it’s not an office job I don’t have a laptop that I can sneakily scroll tumblr on 😭.
So to all the people that have sent in asks please be patient with me. I’ve seen them, I’m just exhausted from being on my feet all day.
11 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Note
Puh-lease Dean Winchester with “hey, is this asshole bothering you?”
He has such a hero complex with that cocky attitude and I love him for it
The way I forgot to answer this in conjunction with the post but oh well. I’m so glad you liked it đŸ„°đŸ„°đŸ„°. Dean is the cockiest mf, wants to be ur knight in shining armour so bad.
2 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
Jealousy never looked so good
Tumblr media
Pairing: Dean Winchester x gn reader
Prompt request from @crash-and-live: "Hey, is this asshole bothering you?"
Summary: Celebrations following a completed hunt take a turn when Dean gets a little protective.
word count: 1.8k
warnings: oral (m! receiving), slightly sub Dean, cringy smut
Tumblr media
The noise filtering through the bar was comforting. Not obnoxiously loud but still lively enough to remind you that the people surrounding you enjoying their night were alive. Free and careless in their mirth, unaware of the dangers that lurked in the dark that they couldn’t even begin to comprehend. 
It was exhausting sometimes, being surrounded by the ignorance of the general populace. But on nights like this one, when you’d finished a hunt and were celebrating a job well done, you could allow yourself to enjoy it. Even Sam hadn’t been opposed to spending an extra night in town, promising to be the designated driver for you and Dean. 
Leaning against the bar you flagged down one of the bartenders, only to recoil in disgust at the stickiness of the wooden tabletop. Grabbing a napkin you dabbed somewhat clumsil, courtesy of the four drinks coursing through your blood, at your arm. Frustration threatens to overwhelm when you can’t seem to get rid of the lingering stickiness and you quickly turned to watch disinterestedly as the man behind the counter poured Dean’s beer. Scrunching your nose up in slight disgust at your friend’s drink of choice. 
“Not a fan of beer?” The masculine voice suddenly speaking up from your left startled you slightly, some remnant nerves from the hunt making you a little jumpier than usual. 
“Not at all,” you snorted, turning back towards the bar and hoping the curt response would give the stranger next to you a clue. Unfortunately, as was common with men in bars he didn’t seem to catch the hint, sliding in even closer to you. 
“You know I’ve seen you around, this past week,” he stumbled over his words a little, rushing to elaborate when you’d raised a brow at his somewhat creepy statement. Your initial outlook on him changed slightly then, and you allowed yourself to turn and face him fully. He was cute, not at all your usual type. Not Dean.
You quickly banish that thought from your mind. Traveling with the two brother’s for so long meant opportunities like this were few and far between and well, beggars couldn’t be choosers. 
“Yeah, its uh, my last night here actually,” you smiled flirtatiously, leaning on the bar once more this time ignoring the lingering sticky feeling on the skin of your bare arm. 
The man faltered a little at that news but quickly regained his nerve, leaning in so there was hardly any space between the two of you. “Really? Guess I better make the most of it then.” You aren’t given the chance to respond, the flirty retort dying on your tongue when a muscular arm wraps around your shoulders, tugging you into his side so you can smell him. 
“Hey, this asshole bothering you?” His words are punctuated with his signature smirk that you both want to knock right off his face and kiss. Dean’s apple green eyes are gazing over your face, not even bothering to look at the now floundering man standing opposite you. He’s trying to be casual but you can feel the tenseness of his warm body against your side and his usually mischevous eyes are painted just a little too dark to be lighthearted. 
“Hey man -” the stranger, who’s name you hadn’t even gotten, was abruptly cut off by Dean finally turning his now deadly glare towards him. The two stare each other down and though you should be offended by the alpha male bullshit show happening in front of you, you can’t help the way your heart beats furiously against your chest because Dean’s the one doing it. 
“You still here?” Dean scoffed and you watched with just a little bit of sick amusement as the man quickly scampered away, evidently not willing to get into it with the larger man. 
Suddenly coming back to yourself you turned with a raised brows, “Um, what was that?”  Dean simply shrugged, grabbing his beer and attempting to eturn to the booth where Sam was waiting but you weren’t willing to let things slide that easily. Grabbing his arm you spun him back around to face you, arms crossed and eyes narrowed like you were scolding a child. “Dean?”
“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he grumbled, still barely looking you in the eye and you scoffed in disbelief. 
“The way he was looking at me?”
“Like you were just a piece of ass.” You rolled your eyes so hard at his hypocrisy that you were afraid they’d fall out of your head. 
“You look at people like that all the time!” 
“Well sorry for trying to look out for you.” He turns away, starting to walk back towards Sam in what you know will be his attempt to pretend the conversation never happened. You know how he works far too well and you’re not willing to back down and let him weasel his way out of this. 
“Right because that’s what you were doing. Looking out for me? Not being an annoying cockblock?” He spins around, fire in his eyes and a nasty sneer on his face that you’d never once seen aimed your way. He stalked back towards you and just as you fear he’s going to continue this ridiculous argument he takes your face in your hands and kisses you. 
Your brain stalls for a few seconds, eyes wide and staring at Dean’s unfairly pretty lashes before he pulls away just as quickly. "I don't like when people touch what's mine." He looks at your deer-in-headlights gaze before smirking so cockily that the urge to smack him rises once more. 
If it was anyone else, you probably would have. Jealousy had never been a trait you'd found attractive in a partner. But like most things, you let it slide, hell you enjoyed it because it was Dean.
Channeling all your pent-up frustration and longing, you pull his face back down against yours and mash your lips against his violently. His hands make quick work of grasping your waist, squeezing just a little as he smirks into the kiss once more. Even after wanting him for so long the action pisses you off even more, and you reward him by biting down on his bottom lip hard. 
Suddenly there’s a hand clasping down on your shoulder and pulling you back from your lip locking shenanigans, “Ok. I think it’s time to go.” You want to cuss Sam out for taking over the role as the family cock block but Dean beats you to it. 
Nonetheless, you follow Sam out to the car like a dejected puppy, which in turn makes Dean follow you, one of his large hands wrapped around your own. When you slide into the backseat the older Winchester follows and you let out a displeased grunt when he squishes you beneath him. Though your displeasure quickly turns into a laugh as he manoueveres you until you’re practically sat atop of him. 
From the drivers seat Sam gags a little, though your pity for him quickly evaporates when Dean pulls you into another kiss and you forget everything else outside the feel of Dean’s lips against yours. 
Luckily for everyone involved, the drive to the dingy motel was short and you barely notice Sam’s hasty exit until the impala door slams shut. “Finally,” Dean groans against the skin of your neck, you’re not entirely sure if he’s talking about Sam leaving or the fact your hands are working on freeing him from his jeans, but you don’t particularly care right now. 
His own hands are making quick work of your clothes, a satisfied grunt escaping him when he finally lays eyes on your bare chest. Mouth dipping to nip at the new expanse of skin on show, “gorgeous, fuck, wanted this for so long,” he pants between kisses and bites. 
“Oh yeah? How long?” High on the power his words have given you, you don’t really give him a fair chance to answer before your hand wraps around the base of his cock. You stroke him leisurely for a few seconds before stopping, heat pooling in your gut when he practically whines. “I asked you a question baby.”
“Fuck.” He whimpers into your ear, hips bucking up into your hand until you force him to stay still with your free hand, “years, since I first saw you in those tight ass jeans.” 
“Guess we better start making up for lost time.” It’s somewhat awkward given the lack of space in the back of the impala, of which Dean’s bulk is taking up most of, but you drop to your knees and take him in your mouth with no warning. 
Dean throws his head back so hard he smacks it against the window but it hardly deters him from letting out a broken moan. “Oh, fuck yes. Just like that baby,” he starts to babble, one hand gripping the front seat of the impala like a life line as the other snakes around the lay on the back of your neck. 
Suddenly his hips buck up once more, causing you to gag and pull back, your hand once again pressing down on his waist to keep him still. At the loss of your touch his eyes fly open, looking down at you in desperation. “You wanna cum? Then be a good boy and stay still,” you command. 
To your surprise he nods frantically at your words, “promise. I’ll be good. I’ll stay still, just please touch me.” There’s a slightly pathetic need in his laboured words that has you impatiently taking his cock back into your mouth, suddenly desperate to pull more of those noises from him. 
You can feel him struggling to stay still below you, his thighs trembling as you bring him rapidly closer to the edge. Swirling your tongue over the tip of his throbbing dick, you take notice of the way his body suddenly tenses, pulling back a little as he cums on your tongue. 
Your hands massage his thighs gently and you give him a few seconds before you pull away, swallowing as Dean watched the action with wide lust blow pupils. The impala reeks of sweat and sex already and is filled with sound of you both attempting to catch your breath. 
Suddenly Dean’s pulling his jeans back up and you only experience a few seconds of confusion and hurt as he awkwardly opens the door. Though he’s quick to assuage you as his hands tug insitently at yours, trying to pull you towards the motel door even faster, “bed, now.”
You don’t fight against that and you definitely don’t fight when he all but shoves you onto the mattress in your temporary room, ducking to his knees before you and tearing your pants down your legs like a man possessed. 
You’ll apologise to Sam for the noise in the morning.
Tumblr media
Taglist: @ghostslillady @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jumpofmyclif
154 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
ken ken kenny
6K notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
You're My Best Friend (Homelander x Reader)
Tumblr media
Summary: Homelander was a test tube baby, raised in isolation in a cold, clinical lab. But that doesn’t inspire America, does it? Vought tasks you with creating the idyllic backstory for its hero, and what starts as a limited comic run spirals out of control when Homelander himself demands your help in making the story a reality.
Note: Gender neutral reader, but no other descriptors are used. Based on a request by @crash-and-cure as well as a bastardization of one of the sweetest love songs ever written (sorry, John Deacon!) This got kinda meta? Do not interact if you’re under 18 or post thinspo/ED content.
Word count: 2k
Warnings: Emotional manipulation, I guess some gaslighting on Homelander’s part? Do not interact if you’re under 18.
Tumblr media
When Vought hired you to create their long-awaited Homelander origin comic series, you were thrilled—until they gave you so little information about his childhood to work with, you weren’t even sure you could come up with one comic, let alone the ten they requested. The details about his childhood were minimal, not even a full printed page—a loving mom and dad, played baseball, did well in school, strong sense of justice from a young age, his friends called him “Johnny.” Your requests to meet with Homelander so you could get some stories from the man himself were constantly denied.
You almost considered dropping the project, until you decided to throw caution to the wind and pull from your own childhood and set it in good ol’ generic suburbia. Some of the storylines were based on your own experiences or things that had happened to people you’d grown up with, though you changed enough names and details to not link it to anyone in particular. Except yourself, of course. Using a pseudonym professionally meant you felt no need to change your own name in the comics. Sure, making your cooler fictionalized self Homelander’s childhood best friend was a bit self-indulgent, but no one would know, really.
To your relief, the editors at Vought loved your ideas, making minor changes before bringing the storylines to their comic artists to bring it to life. The result was Finding Homelander: A Boy’s Journey To Be a Hero. The issues flew off shelves when they were first released, ironically praised for their relatability and authenticity. Vought extended your contract, asking you to produce the cartoon adaptation and another ten issues.
Still, in all of that, you’d never met Homelander. A representative from Vought emailed you to let you know to tune in to his interview on a talk show one day, saying that he’d be talking more about the cartoon project on it. You recognized the host, Tracey, always chipper and having some extravagant giveaway for her audience members. Daytime TV was never your thing, though.
“I think what resonates with so many people is how relatable your childhood is,” Tracey said, holding up a copy of Finding Homelander issue #3, where he saved ‘you’ from getting hit in the face with a baseball at one of his games, catching it with ease. It’d been the happy ending to a short storyline of him struggling to find his place on the team and you encouraging him to not give up. “You and Y/N were pretty close, do you still keep in touch?”
“You know, Tracey, not as much as I’d like, unfortunately. Adulthood can be so busy, you need to cherish those childhood memories,” Homelander said. “I did give them a call when the comics first came out, and wow, the laughs we had over those old antics of ours. Talk about a walk down memory lane!”
You guessed the bullshitting was all part of the promotional circuit for Homelander. Knowing this childhood of his was your own fabrication, you couldn’t help but wonder what else about him was fake. Maybe he wanted to maintain his privacy, you could certainly understand that. You couldn’t shake the voice in the back of your mind that said it wasn’t so simple, that the narrative Vought pushed was a cover to hide something in Homelander’s past.
“Now, I’ve heard rumors of a cartoon show based on the comics in the making, is this true?”
“It is! I’m excited for this project, getting back to my ‘roots’ so to speak. I’ll be voicing myself, of course, but it’s funny you’d bring up Y/N, because they’ve agreed to voice themself, too.”
“How fun!” Tracey exclaimed over the roar of the talk show crowd’s applause and cheers. “I guess this is the hopeless romantic in me, but I hope this reconnection leads to something a little more. I’m just a sucker for childhood sweethearts!” 
Homelander laughed along with the host’s giggles, “Well, you never know.”
You balked at the television, mouth agape. Surely he couldn’t be talking about you. ‘Y/N’ could be anyone with your same features. Vought had probably hired a professional voice actor for the role and were pushing the authenticity angle. The whole situation felt odd. 
When you checked your work email again on your phone, you nearly dropped it on the floor. 
SUBJECT: Meeting with Homelander This Week
The email contained a list of days and times throughout the week wherein Homelander would be free, apparently wanting to meet you to thank you for the success of the comic series and discuss upcoming work. Yeah. That last part you sure as hell wanted to discuss too. You responded with the soonest time available, in a meeting room in Vought Tower the following evening. As soon as you hit ‘send’, you wondered what exactly you were getting yourself into.
Anticipation filled your gut as you went about your day leading up to meeting the supe himself. What would he be like, really be like? Was there even a version of Homelander that wasn’t hopelessly manufactured for the masses? You knew then that his upbringing was a lie, and thus stood the probability that so much else was, too. 
When you stepped into that meeting room, you hadn’t been expecting his face to light up at the sight of you. 
“Homelander, hi, it’s great to—“
“No need to be so formal, Y/N! You can call me Johnny, just like old times,” he said cheerfully, in on a joke you clearly hadn’t been aware of.
“Sorry, Johnny,” you said, playing along. “It’s great to see you again.”
He pulled you in for an unexpected hug that you returned. “Figured we should catch up before things really start getting crazy, don’t you think?”
You nodded, your nose brushing against him as you did so. Just as your lips parted to offer an apology, he smiled, shooing away the assistant who’d accompanied him out of the room. 
He sat down, motioning for you to do the same.
“Gotta say, I’m a fan of your work,” he said.
“Thank you,” you said. “I’m not sure I understand exactly what’s going on, though.”
“What’s there to understand? I’m not allowed to know more about my best friend, our lives together growing up?”
“How did you know it was me?”
“Wasn’t hard for me to put two and two together, but considering everyone else around here has their head up their asses, they have no idea,” he said, before lowering his voice conspiratorially and giving you a charming smile. “I haven’t told anyone. What’s a secret between friends?”
You nodded, overwhelmed by the intensity of his attention on you. “What do you want to know?”
He sighed, resting his head on his hand. “Everything.”
So you told him. Not quite everything, of course, but enough to abate his curiosity. At least for the time being. His interviews were sharper, more specific with details rather than rattling off whatever had been in the comics. You watched in shock as convincing photos of his Little League days were posted to his social media accounts, anecdotes provided by his increasingly frequent conversations–or more like interrogation sessions–with you, but in his style, of course. It was almost scary what the graphic design team at Vought could accomplish, not that you’d ever know how, exactly, as they were all under the same strict NDA that you were.
He started spending more time with you, too, and after a while, it did seem like you were old friends. Part of you flinched whenever you called him Johnny, because Johnny wasn’t even real, but with your complacency, this fabrication was slowly morphing into a strikingly tangible memory. With each conversation, he drew you deeper into the world you’d been paid to create for him until you found yourself slipping up.
You’d been showing him a goofy stuffed monkey on your desk, a cute little thing with big sparkling eyes. A prize for getting two out of three at the ring toss. Probably spent more money winning it than it was actually worth, but it was about the effort, the memories made.
“You remember, don’t you? You won it for me at the county fair,” you said without thinking.
He laughed in agreement, as if he actually had. Except he hadn’t. Your high school boyfriend won it for you a week before graduation. Sensing the mood shift, he set down your prize and looked at you with the same intensity he had when you first met.
“It’s been a while since we were there, huh?” he said. “Why don’t we go back?”
You furrowed your eyebrows. “Go where?”
“Home.”
With a strong arm around your waist, he took off for your hometown. You could hardly tell which way was up or down, he was flying so high, but he didn’t seem to mind the way you clung to him at all. When he finally landed, you recognized the community baseball field where all of his fictional games were set. 
“Geez, it’s like nothing’s changed,” he said cheerfully.
You looked at him in disbelief. How long was he going to expect you to go along with it? Or maybe the question you should have been asking was, how long were you going to enable him? The end wasn’t anywhere in sight as he took your hand, and you walked him through your childhood, further enmeshing him in it until you arrived at the house you grew up in. 
The middle of the day, no one was home, and so you let yourselves in like you owned the place. Suddenly, the house seemed too small for a man like Homelander to occupy, but he was engrossed in the details of it. He scanned the kitchen, no doubt inspecting the contents of the fridge and cabinets with his x-ray vision. Moving onto the living room, he stared at photos on the wall, the magazines and DVDs that were strewn on the coffee table, giving away your parents’ taste in entertainment.
“Which one was your room again?” he asked.
You swore you could feel his breath on the back of your neck as you wordlessly led him to your room. Each step down the hall felt dangerous, as if you were about to walk into a trap. Face-to-face with the closed door, you opened it, standing aside while Homelander looked around, from what you had hanging on the walls to the knick-knacks you’d left behind.
An uncomfortable tension settled over the room when Homelander closed the door of your childhood bedroom. An odd blend of hurt and amusement spread across his face as he observed the way you were eyeing him, body ready to fruitlessly run from him the way a rabbit would a hawk.
“C’mon, after how long we’ve been friends, I would never hurt you,” he said, as if reading your mind. “We’ve been through so much together. I mean, we were each other’s first kiss.”
You froze. Issue #9. That was something Vought’s editors had added, claiming a romance angle would make the series appeal to the younger female demographic. You hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
He slyly backed you into the wall, leaning over you as you slinked down the slightest bit.
“Show me how we did it,” he whispered, his hand caressing your cheek. “So clumsy and nervous, I can even feel you
quivering.”
“Homelander, I don’t know what you’re—“
He tsked. “Y/N.”
You let out a shaky breath, “Johnny—“
He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s alright. I know it’s been a while.”
You let him kiss you, sweetly in a way that put your actual first kiss to shame. His lips were soft against yours, his tender movements intentional as he cradled your face, pulling you the slightest bit closer to him when you kissed him back. 
A sense of familiarity settled over you, warm and comforting like pulling a blanket out of the dryer on a chilly evening. Every time it seemed like you were beginning to overthink the situation with Homelander, he drew you back in with the kiss, a more than effective distraction until you pulled away with a dazed smile on your face.
988 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
Being a Kendall Roy fan is so hard sometimes. I’m truly in the trenches. Like what do you mean you got on stage and performed a rap ?!?!
No idgaf about all the morally reprehensible things he’s done but I draw the line at that atrocious rap 😭.
3 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
PROMPTS I'D LOVE TO WRITE
Credits to the following for certain prompts: @leneemusing @novelbear @creativepromptsforwriting @soulprompts @flovprompts @memesomething
FLUFF
' i don't want to spend any time apart from you. ''
'' i really need you to know that [that i love you]. ''
“ wait, you knew? “ “ you haven't exactly been discreet... “
'' so, do you... love me back, or? ''
“ do you have feelings for me or something? “
“ i think i'm falling in love with you. “
“i love it when you smile! i wish you’d do it all the time
 ”
“ you can’t get rid of me that easily. i’m gonna be here every day to remind you how wonderful you are! ”
“ you know me. you
 you see me. i’m never totally myself unless i’m with you. ”
“ we all have our flaws. you stayed with me in spite of mine. now i’m doing the same
 ”
“ of course i remembered! i remember everything about you! ”
“ don’t make this weird, but
 i saw this in the store. figured you’d like it. ”
“ whoa
 hey, now, who made you cry? where’d they go? ”
“ don’t make a big deal out of this. you like hugs, right? so
 here’s a hug. ”
“ um
 if you don’t mind, i think i’d like a hug now. if that’s okay
 ”
“You’re cute when you’re jealous”
“ the world just
 feels right. when you’re with me. ”
"is this okay?" "it's more than okay."
JEALOUS/PROTECTIVE
❝  i just didn’t like the way they were looking at you.  like you weren’t mine.  ❞ John Mactavish
❝  you know i’m yours,  right?  i only have eyes for you.  ❞
❝  hey,  is this asshole bothering you?  ❞ Dean Winchester
❝  tell me you’re mine.  ❞
❝  you wanna lose a limb?  beat it,  fucker.  ❞
for one muse to possessively kiss the other in public.
for one muse to lean into the other’s side or hug them to seek comfort from a crowd or individual while in public.
FRIENDS TO LOVERS
going as each other’s “platonic” date to a mutual friend’s wedding
agreeing to kiss each other “just to see what it’s like”
punching the guy who broke your best friend’s heart
friends and family think we’re dating because we’re always acting like a couple
sharing clothes, we're just that comfortable with each other
accidentally blurting out “i love you” during a conversation
i’m watching you date all these other people and i don't know what it is i'm feeling but it's definitely not jealousy
you're upset and disappear for a couple hours, and i'm the only one who knows where to find you (which is at the location we always hung out at as children)
one dropping hints about their feelings, the other one is completely oblivious
hearing your best friend say you’re nothing more than friends, dying a little on the inside because you wish it was more than that
family and friends constantly pointing out how compatible you are with each other
ANGST
'' i can't do this without you. ''
'' don't you dare... don't you dare say goodbye. ''
'' it's okay. '' '' it's not okay. ''
'' do you remember that song, that we always used to sing as kids? [could you...?] 
'' don't you dare close your eyes. ''
'' she's not dead...! ''
'' you're gonna be okay. ''
“ can you move? “
“ why is it so difficult for you to believe that you deserve to be protected? “
“ stay close. whatever you do, do not leave my side. “ Dean Winchester
“ i’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe. no matter the cost. “
“They say you almost died. You left it that late.”
“ tell me it isn't true. “ “ i can't."
“ why is it so damn difficult for you to believe you’re worthy of love? ”
HURT/COMFORT
“  i don’t know how to just live.  i constantly feel like i’m waiting for the other shoe to drop.  ”
“  there are just too many people depending on me.  i can’t rest.  i can’t let them down.  ”
“  every time i start to feel like things are getting quieter and i can feel safe,  something bad always happens.  ”
“ i’m here and i’m not leaving or letting you change the subject. now talk to me”
“   you’re important to me.   you hear me?  you’re important.  and that’s never gonna change.   ”
“  i’m not going anywhere until you get some sleep.  ”
“  i want to take care of you.  please,  let me.  ”
“ you’re a good person. good people deserve to be safe. “
“ i’m going to protect you, now. because that’s what we do for the ones we love. we keep them safe. “
" it's alright... it's okay... i'm here now. i've got you. "
" of course i came for you... it would take far much more than that to stop me. "
❝  i know i can’t protect you from everything,  but i wish you’d let me protect you from the things i can control.  ❞
“You’re safe. [Name], can you hear me? They’re here to help you, you need to let them help you.”
“I wasn’t –
 Your doctors weren’t sure you’d wake up.”
“You.. you were so close to dying. I was scared.”
SCENARIOS/ACTIONS
Smiling at each other from across the room
Laying a hand on the other’s leg
Fixing the other’s clothes 
A kiss to the side of the head
Embracing from behind
Laying your head on their shoulder
Bumping shoulders
you take their hands firmly, intertwine their fingers with yours
you repeatedly say you love them when they’re anxious/experiencing low self-worth
put your hands on lover’s cheeks, cradle their face in your hands
you get really mad when you hear someone hurl an insult your lover’s way
for sender to catch or steady receiver when receiver tries to stand up too early or to push their body past what it’s ready for
 for receiving muse to not recognize sender or medical staff trying to help them, due to being drugged or otherwise disoriented – so they fight.
SECRET DATING/CONSEQUENCES
“You will cut all ties with them”
“Where were you last night?”
“ how long? ” [a confused pause] “ how long have you two been in a relationship
“ how long do you think it’s going to take before your family finds out ? ”
"If I ask you to kiss me in front of all these people, will you do it?"
24 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Note
Opinions on jordisons x graves
The only ship ever actually đŸ˜€đŸ˜€ go home everyone else this one wins.
0 notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
KITKATS 2024 FANDOM LIST (1)
Tumblr media
CALL OF DUTY
Simon Riley, John Mactavish
SUCCESSION
Kendall Roy, Stewy Hosseini
THE WALKING DEAD
Rick Grimes
ONE CHICAGO
Matt Casey, Kelly Severide, Connor Rhodes
SUPERNATURAL
Dean Winchester
1 note · View note
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
No thoughts, brain full up of Fem!Soap and you, her easy-flustered best friend! She's so sick of hearing about your shitty boyfriends and just wants to please you!!
Mostly written for @crashandlivewrites who's slowly turning me gay <3
pairing: fem!soap x reader
cw: Lesbian sex, fingering (reader receiving), nipple sucking (reader receiving), oral (reader receiving and giving (implied)), and gay yearning between soap and her best friend (if I missed anything please let me know!)
word count: 1.2k
minors and agless blogs dni // nsfw below the cut
“Whaddya think?” you ask your best friend, Jeanine MacTavish, as you enter the living room of your apartment, twirling a bit so she can fully examine the outfit you’ve picked out. She’d come over to help you pick out an outfit for your upcoming date. 
“So bonnie. Ye look absolutely gorgeous in that wee skirt,” she replies with a smile. To her, you always look like the prettiest girl on Earth, and she’s not shy about letting you know that. Your cheeks warm slightly at the comment from Jeanine. Her compliments always make you blush and cause your heart to beat a bit faster, although you can never figure out why she elicits such a reaction from you. Your eyes quickly dart down to the hemline of your skirt and you miss the smirk that crosses her lips. God, she could look at your sweet flustered expression all day.  
“Are you sure it’s not too revealing? I mean, I don’t want to show off too much on my first date with him,” you ask, frowning a bit with uncertainty. Jeanine just chuckles and shakes her head. 
“No, I dinnae think it’s too much, lass. Besides, ye wanna give Mike a glimpse of what yer offerin’ don’t ye?” Jeanine smirks a bit and you immediately know what she’s implying. “I know what yer tryin’ tae get out of this date, hen. Ye cannae fool me.” 
“Yeah well, let’s just hope this one is actually good in bed,” you sigh as you plop down onto the couch next to the brunette. 
“I wouldnae hold yer breath,” Jeanine says lowly and you furrow her brows at her. “What I mean tae say is men are never that good in bed, lass. Definitely not as good as other women.” 
“I
 Jeanine!” you start, but your lips fail to form a coherent sentence. 
“Oh c’mon, hen. We talk about everythin! I know that all yer experiences with men have been disappointing, tae put it lightly,” she shifts closer and her blue eyes gaze intensely into yours as her rests on your thigh. You feel your cheeks burn hot at the sudden contact. “Just say the word and I’ll show ye how much better I am than all those other bastards.” 
“But I’ve never been with another woman,” your voice comes out just above a whisper. 
“I’ll show ye, lass. If ye want me tae of course
” she whispers, her lips now mere centimeters from yours. “Just need tae hear ye say it.” 
“Kiss her! Don’t kiss her. It’ll be fun! It’ll ruin your friendship,” the contrasting voices circle around your head.  
“C’mon, lass,” she purrs, her blue eyes glancing down at your lips before darting back up to your eyes. “I ken ye want it. Just say the word.” 
“Yes
 Yes! Kiss me, Je-” before you can even get her name out of your mouth, her lips are on yours. They’re soft, so much softer than you imagined. You sigh into the kiss, the connection flooding your heart and your head with a sensation unlike any other that you’ve ever felt. Jeanine is gentle at first, her hands moving to cup your jaw and hold you even closer. But she can’t hold back for long. She’s wanted this, she’s wanted you for an impossibly long time. Her lips trail kisses down to your neck and you whine softly as her teeth gently tug at your skin. Your hands move to her toned waist. Jeanine’s large hand slides further up your thigh, completely disappearing underneath your skirt. Her index finger lands on the wet spot of your panties and you moan out softly as she begins stroking your clothed clit. 
“Please
” the brunette’s voice desperate and her eyes pleading. “Please let me show ye how much better I am than those lads ye waste yer time on.” 
You nod breathlessly and Jeanine makes quick work of your top and bra. Her soft, pink lips plant kisses down your neck and chest. 
“Such bonnie tits, hen. Ye dinnae ken how badly I’ve wanted to see them. I’ve waited so long,” Jeanine sighs before taking one of your nipples into your mouth. You lean your head back as her hand moves your panties to the side and she begins to work her fingers through your soaked folds. Just the feeling of your wet cunt has Jeanine drooling and she knows she can’t resist any longer. She needs to taste you. 
“Lay back,” she commands and you immediately oblige, leaning back against the arm of your couch and spreading your legs even further. The Scot hooks her fingers around the band of your panties and pulls them off before she settles herself between your thighs. 
“Such a bonnie pussy
 Already so wet fer me,” she murmurs to herself before licking a stripe from your hole up to your clit. Your head falls back and moans fall from your lips as your best friend’s lips wrap around your nub to suck on it. Her slender middle finger easily slides into your hole and curls up to work that spongy spot inside you. 
“Gah- ah ah! Jean!” your soft sighs sound like a choir to the brunette between your thighs and encourage her to keep going. She adds a second finger into your pussy and you gently dig your fingernails into the buzzed sides of her scalp. “Oh
 Don’t stop, don’t stop!” 
“Let me hear ye, hen. Yer moans sound so bonnie, so perfect,” Jeanine mutters before her tongue returns to lapping at your clit almost impossibly fast and you feel a familiar knot forming in your core. Your walls begin to clench around her fingers and Jeanine knows you’re getting close. 
“C’mon, hen. I know yer gettin close,” Jeanine encourages you softly as your hips arch up into her touch. “Cum for me, ye bonnie girl.” 
“God! Jeanine!” you cry out as the coil inside you burns brighter and hotter by the second. “So good
 You feel so good!” 
“Better than all those other lads?” 
“So much better!” you admit as your thighs tremble. That knot in your stomach snaps and you climax, harder than you ever have. You buck your hips into Jeanine’s mouth as your orgasm washes over you. Her tongue laps at your clit, working you through your climax before it slows and she pulls away to rest her head against your thigh. Jeanine looks up at you, your eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted as you lay there trying to regain your breath.  
“I think it’s time fer ye tae return the favor,” she chuckles out and your lips fall open at the suggestion. 
“But,” you sputter out a bit “Jean, you know that I’ve never gone down on another girl before!” 
“Dinnae fash, hen. I’ll teach ye,” she presses one last kiss to your swollen clit and you whimper slightly before she sits herself up onto her knees and then leans back against the opposite end of the couch. Her hands make quick work of her belt and jeans, leaving herself in just a pair of blue cotton panties. As she spreads her thighs, you can clearly make out a wet spot. You settle yourself between her thighs and your breath hitches in your throat, suddenly anxious about pleasuring your best friend. Jeanine smiles down at you and her hand works its way into your hair, gently tugging at the roots. 
“Go on, lass. Show me how good girls use their mouths.”
113 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
Tumblr media
@soapsgf and I were feeling gay so we wrote lesbian fics for each other <3
Pairing: fem!Ghost x fem!reader (or rather, stone top butch Ghost x pillow princess reader)
CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, mention of a strap, relationship insecurities, Ghost communicating (?!?!), use of daddy one (1) time
You were cuddled up on the couch late at night in your small flat you shared with your girlfriend, Simone, whenever she was back from deployment. Your hands had slithered their way underneath her jacket and shirt, leeching the warmth from her body as she had one of her muscled arms thrown casually over you, keeping you tucked into her side as her fingers traced mindless patterns over your body.
Playing on the tv was a reality show you enjoyed, yet tonight you weren’t really paying attention to it. Simone had even chimed in a few times, to show her interest in the show for you, but her statements and questions remained unanswered. It wasn’t until something ridiculous happened that would normally have pulled a barking laugh from you that she decided enough was enough.
Switching the tv, she placed a hand over your shoulder, shaking you lightly.
“You gonna tell me what’s been rollin’ in your head since I got home or not, pretty girl?” Her voice startled you, breaking you out of your daydream as you pulled back from her, furrowing your brows.
“What? I’m sorry, wasn’t listening.”
“Clearly.” She gave you a pointed look. “Wanna know what’s on your mind, lovie. You haven’t been right since I got back.”
“Nothing. Just tired. Been a long day.” You tried to dissuade her, waving your hand as you reached over her to take the remote, only to my stopped by her firm fingers on your wrist.
“I’m not stupid, nor blind, love. You haven’t been yourself. You’ve been quiet.”
Cursing inwardly, you looked away from your overly observant girlfriend, trying not to show your discomfort. Of course, she’d noticed the small things that no one else would. Your brows furrowed and you wrung your fingers as you tried to search for the right words. Simone just sat there, a reassuring hand against your shoulder, letting you know she was there to listen. She always was.
“It’s stupid
 really, I don’t know why it’s affected me so much.” The hesitancy was evident in your voice, and her eyes narrowed slightly.
“It’s not nothing. It’s got you in a tiff.”
“It’s
” You faltered, eyes flicking around the room as you were unable to look at her. Only when her hand reached out to grip your jaw did you force yourself to meet her gaze and continue. “It’s about sex.”
“What about it?”
“I just
 don’t you feel left out?” Her brows knitted together, and she angled her head, signalling for you to continue. “I feel like I’m always just lying there when we have sex. I do nothing. You’re doing everything, Simone, including getting me off but not yourself. Don’t you hate that?”
Her hand went soft on your jaw as her thumb stroked your cheek, eyes boring into yours.
“What stupid video have you seen now?” Blinking, you cocked your head and looked at her in bewilderment.
“How did you—”
“Doesn’t take much. Let me guess, some wanker of a broad on tiktok made a video about how pillow princesses are lazy and should do more work, hmm?” Simone leaned forward, getting into your space as you stared at her, dumbfounded.
“But isn’t it true?”
“I think you’re missing the point of the term, princess.” She elongated the term of endearment as her hand ran down your neck. “I like making you feel good. Just you. Besides, the way you sound when you come, who wouldn’t want to hear that?”
Your face heated and you tried to push her away in protest as she smiled, flashing a toothy grin before running her tongue along her lips. Though her words struck a chord with you, there was still some lingering doubts swimming in your head.
You could count the total amount of times you’d gotten her off with your own mouth or fingers on one hand. The queasiness in your stomach, however, didn’t fade with her reassurance.
“Do you not like me in that way?” Your voice was small and filled with shame, as if you already knew the question was stupid, but you couldn’t stop the feeling from clawing its way up. Simone’s eyes softened and her long fingers ran along the back of your head.
“Lovie, it’s not like that. You know it takes me a lot to want to be in the mood to receive. It’s got nothing to do with not wanting you. I’m here, aren’t I?”
“But your job is stressful! Surely you’d want some release when you come back?”
“You’re my release, princess.” She whispers, voice lowering as she leans in. “The way you’re so obedient for me, how you spread your legs so eagerly, how wet you get when my fingers barely graze your skin
 you’re a fucking sight, princess. And you’re mine.”
The drop in her tone sent a rush of arousal through you. Pursing your lips and squeezing your thighs together, you whine in protest.
“I want to please you!”
“You do fuckin’ please me, lovie. The sight of you on our bed, legs spread open, begging for me to touch you like a good little slut. My good little slut. Makes my head spin. Hearin’ you scream my name as you squirt over my face? A fucking godsend.”
Simone was now shuffling over the couch into your space. You felt the sturdy armrest pressing into your body as you leaned back, face heating and heart thumping. True to her words, your legs were unconsciously spreading for her, accomodating her broad frame as she nestled between your thighs, her large hands caressing your pliant one.
“Simmy
” Your voice was barely above a squeak as she cocked her eyebrow up at you, the smirk on her face deadly.
“What is it, my little princess? What do you need?”
“You.” Simone hummed, shaking her head.
“More specific, princess. You know the rules.” Her hands slid up your thin shirt, tweaking at your nipples and drawing a gasping moan from you.
“Mouth
 want your mouth Simmy please.”
“My mouth where?” She pressed, squeezing your tits now in her large hands as her mouth descended on the bare skin of your stomach, pressing soft kisses as she waits for you to reply.
Moaning both in delirious pleasure and frustration, you managed to lift your head up and look down at her with a frown.
“You’re so cruel.” You pouted accusingly at her, and she laughed darkly in response, but she didn’t make any further movements. Not able to resist any longer, you tilted your hips up so they were closer to her mouth. “Want your mouth on my pussy and want you to make me come.”
This time, your girlfriend grinned wickedly, adjusting you both so your legs were thrown over her muscled shoulders.
“My good fucking girl, using her words. Gonna reward you for that.” And she did.
Her lips immediately latched onto your clit after pushing your underwear aside, dragging her tongue up your slit as she moaned, fingers digging into the plushness of your thighs. Moaning into your cunt, she moved down, tongue lapping over your wetness as your fingers wound their way into her hair.
She usually buzzed it short whenever she left for the field, then let it grow. Right now, it was just long enough for you to tug at with your fingers as you cried out her name. Simone had always been godly with her mouth, and tonight was no different.
Tonight, she was taking her time with you, pressing soft kisses over your sensitive flesh, her tongue sliding languidly up your cunt, delving into your wet hole and groaning at your taste.
“So fuckin’ wet f’me lovie. Practically dripping on our couch.” Our couch, she says. You grin amidst the pleasure, thinking about how quickly Simone began to call your home hers as well.
Sucking your clit back into her mouth, she reached down so the pads of her fingers were prodding at your soaked entrance. Clutching at her hair, you rolled your hips, eager to feel the delicious stretch as she pressed her long fingers into you. But she didn’t. Instead, she clicked her tongue and pulled back.
“So greedy tonight, princess. What was all that talk about earlier? Wanting to do all the work? No sweets, you belong here, beneath me writhing and moaning like the little slutty princess you are.”
“Simone.” You whined, rolling your hips once more as your cunt throbbed in need.
“Look at you.” She cooed, grinning salaciously as her eyes raked over your body, clothes having been shoved haphazardly out of the way. “Looking like a proper slag now, princess. Cunt all wet and swollen, perfect tits out on display. Should take a photo.”
Your lips parted at the suggestion, the debate waging in your head.
“Is that what you want?” She hummed thoughtfully.
“Probably not. As much as I’d love to show you off and brag to the blokes that you’re a fuckin’ babe, you’re mine, princess. And only I can see you like this.” To back up her words, Simone’s teeth dragged possessively along your inner thigh, wringing out another moan from you.
Returning her attention to your clit, she flicked it with the tip of her tongue, the barest stimulation still sending shivers up your spine and making your thighs clench around her ears. Ghosting her middle finger down your slit, she pressed it inside you, groaning at the ease.
“Fuck lovie
 never gonna get over that feeling.” She pressed another in for good measure and curled, making you squeal and grip her hair tightly, holding her face to your cunt as she ravished you.
“Please
 oh god please Simmy. ‘m gonna come.” You panted, heat pooling in you. She pulled back, thumbing your clit as she grinned down at you, fingers still plunging into your slick hole.
“Yeah? You gonna be a good girl for me and come, aren’t you? Gonna make a mess all over our couch and make it smell like you?” Now it was her turn to moan as she leaned back down, alternating between her tongue and thumb as she spoke.
“Love the way you smell, the way you taste
 I’d live off you if I could, sweet girl. My good girl. Mine.”
“Yours, Simmy
 always yours.” You managed to get out, head spinning as your fingers tightened. You were spiralling, her attentiveness to you was unparalleled, knowing exactly where to press, flick, and suck.
Unable to contain the feeling, you cried out, one hand flying to grip the couch below you as your back arched and thighs trembled. You could feel your pussy pulsing around her fingers, clenching around them tighter as the coil in your gut tightened. Your body was tantalisingly close, perched on a knife’s edge before the spring snapped and you moaned her name as your eyes fluttered closed, head tipping back.
Simone hummed contentedly into your pussy, lapping gently as she worked you through your release. Once your body had sagged back down onto the couch and your walls had stopped spasming around her fingers, she lowered back down to place a soft kiss on the hood of your clit. Jerking from overstimulation, you whined softly, but giggled as you opened your eyes blearily to look up into her smiling face.
“So fuckin’ pretty, lovie.” She whispered before diving in to claim your mouth, tongue immediately pressing in so you could taste yourself. Pulling back just as quickly, her eyes darkened with lust, she looked down at you, head cocked slightly.
“Got an idea, princess. Since you had all that talk about doing some work in the bedroom, why don’t you get out that strap of mine that makes you scream?”
Drawing your lip into your mouth, you nodded eagerly, quickly getting up on shaky legs as you stumbled to the bedroom. You could hear Simone laughing as you walked, but you didn’t care. Returning, strap in hand, you held it out to her.
It was a mean thing, cruelly thick and curved, large enough to hit that spot inside you that made you cream with ease, and she knew it too. Standing up, Simone loomed over you, shucking off her jacket and pants revealing her hulking frame, she tugged on the strap before sitting back down on the couch, legs spread in a way that made you want to crawl between them and worship her. But she had other plans.
“Want you to ride me, lovie. Ride my cock until you can’t take it anymore and need me to take over. Wanna watch that pretty face fall apart as you realise you can’t come without me, then I’ll plow you into the couch.” Whining softly, you crawled into her lap, positioning yourself over her strap.
“Be a good girl and ride Daddy’s cock, like a pretty little slut.”
337 notes · View notes
kitkatscabinet · 2 months
Text
far from prudish but just got blazed porn of someone's pussy spread out so hard and up close like it's a map of the polish-lithuanian commonwealth and I'm king and grand duke sigismund II augustus inspecting his lands to plot defense against the swedes
109K notes · View notes