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oh-koenig-my-koenig · 8 months

Text

waking up in his bed

(cw: age gap 25/41, nsfw, mdni, marks, a bit of spit stuff, dry (wet?) humping, swallowing)

part before: hanging off König's shoulder

When I open my eyes up again, for just a moment, I don’t know where I am. My own confused image stairs back at me – right, the mirror on his ceiling! And I laugh to myself because it’s ridiculous. The whole concept is!

I stretch myself, yawning. Realising that I’m alone in the kingsize bed. I mean, it would be impossible to miss the big guy. I still feel his lingering touches, the way he held onto me as we fell asleep together. Reminders of the first time hooking up after the concert.

I’m somebody who normally can’t sleep in a tight embrace, but he was pratically latching onto me both times. Subconsciously in his sleep. Holding onto me, softly still. If it were possible for him to wrap himself around me completely, I bet he would’ve done it. His big arm resting over my torso, the forearm securely between my breasts, his hand on the side of my face. One of his legs strewn over one of mine. Almost like a human weighted blankie. And I still slept soundly.

I yawn and stretch again, until I notice a little piece of paper stuck to my arm. I peel it off and look at it.

That explains where he went off to, but it also makes him out be a liar, because I don’t believe I look anywhere near cute in the morning. Drooling into the soft pillow underneath my head. My hair standing off to the side. Probably snoring as well.

And I have to laugh as I see the little doodle in the right corner. Honestly, it’s a relief to see – considering the man’s many talents – that he isn’t good at everything. Drawing doesn’t seem to be his forte. But at the same time, this was painfully cute. The note, the doodle, everything. I giggle to myself and finally pull back the covers.

I assess the ‘damage’ while I get up: Booty hurts a little bit, probably from getting fucked into the hard wood surface of the bar. The muscles in my legs are a little tense, my shoulders and neck feel a bit stiff, and my pussy is a little bit sore (and deeply satisfied). The hickeys and the faint bitemark on my inner thighs bring a little smile to my face. It couldn’t have been clearer if he had written ‘König was here’ in waterproof sharpie on them.

I put on my shirt, still not daring to take one of his because of how it might look, and curse myself because I didn’t pack more clothes. It’s not terribly stinky or stained, but it definitely looked better yesterday. I quickly brush my teeth, my eyes darting to the shower, remnants of last night in the forefront of my mind before I go on a search for my panties.

I find them on the floor in the bar, the memories of yesterday flooding me, the forgotten cocktail still on the bar. He had to make another one, because the icecubes had already melted and the gin was warm.

I leave the cellar going up the stairs until I stand in the living room again, looking at the books I set aside yesterday.

There is another crystal tumbler on the end table, this one empty. Just one because we shared it.

The glass moving from my hand to his and back, while we were listening to music, talking. Cuddling on the couch. My legs splayed over his thighs, barely reaching all the way to the other side. His arm around my waist, his thumb painting little circles over my hip. My fingers tangled in his hair and digging into the scalp, massaging gently until he was humming quietly.

His mouth placed on the glass where mine was, just a moment before, taking another sip.

Lingering kisses, slow and sweet, turning into little sips of the drink being passed between us. Tasting him and the gin at the same time. A heady combination.

I felt myself getting sleepier and sleepier the later it got, until I yawned and almost fell asleep in his arms, then he finally got me to agree that we should head to bed.

I hear the front door open, the sound ripping me from my memories. I turn around, skipping in that direction.

König is standing in the hallway, taking off his shoes, a grocery bag in his hands. In his usual leatherjacket, shirt and… sweatpants? Casual black sweatpants. Yeah no, I totally feel normal about them. I can’t help but ogle him, because he looks like a wet dream, even in the most mundane outfits.

He sees me, his face lighting up in a grin. “No pants again, huh?”, he comments, his eyes dropping down my body.

I blush. “Uh, I can put some on, if it bothers you.”

He laughs. “Doncha dare hide that cute ass of yours.” He comes closer and leans down, dropping a kiss onto my mouth and his hand to my ass. Patting it twice, quickly and playful. “I almost didn't want to leave bed this morning...”, he whispers against my lips and deepens the kiss, for just a moment.

“I got your note.”, I say as we tumble into the kitchen.

He puts the shopping bag down on the counter. “Yeah, went to the supermarket. And I also got us some croissants from the bakery.”

“The little shop at the corner to Main Street?”, I ask.

“Yes.”, he smiles.

“Hell yeah, I love their croissants, they're the best.”, I exclaim.

“Baked goods, the only thing the french are good at.”, he comments pointedly.

“Oh man, you and the french.”, I laugh as I hop onto the kitchen counter beside the coffee maker. Watching him unpack the groceries and getting said baked goods.

He pulls one croissant out of the brown paper bag and hands it to me unceremoniously. I grab it and take a bite, the flakey dough bursting as my teeth cut through it. The little sigh that drops from my lips sounds a little too enamored, a little too enthused for just eating a croissant. He looks at me, his jaw dropping just a bit.

“What?”, I ask, still munching on the pastry dough.

“Nothing.” He shakes his head mumbling something that sounds a bit like "never thought I'd be jealous of a fucking croissant".

That makes me laugh. "Thanks for getting them, but you didn't need to get up early for that."

He shrugs. "I'm an early bird anyway out of habit, and I had to go out and buy some milk, because I forgot about that.", he explains, pulling said milk out of the grocery bag.

I look at him, a little confused.

"I drink my coffee black, so I never have any milk at home.", he adds, as if that was a given.

A grin stalks on my face. “Of course you do.”, I say pointedly.

“Now, what's that supposed to mean?”, he asks.

I tilt my head and pull my brows up, all like 'are you being serious?'. “Let's just say that I would have been way more surprised if the over 40-year-old metalhead, who has a car that looks like it's from the nineties, who still collects vinyls and CDs, who would rather drink his gin neat and who's biggest kitchen appliance is a barista coffee machine with all the knick-knacks – if he drank a latte in the morning.”

He laughs, the hearty sound making me all giddy. “Tell me how you really feel.”, he says, his eyes sparkling at me, while jokingly clasping one hand over his heart.

“Sorry.”, I say, grinning at him.

He waves it off. “Don’t be, I deserved that.” He gets some coffee beans ready, putting them through the grinder and then fitting the portafilter into the barista machine.

While the coffee drips down into the cup, he comes closer standing right in between my knees. “But, how about you, missy? Do you like a latte in the morning?” The little quirk of the corner of his mouth is telling me that this isn’t just some question about my coffee preferences. It’s one of his telltale signs.

“I do, but I feel like I'm missing the joke here.”, I say, looking up at him. Sitting on the counter, he still towers over me, more than a head taller than me.

He chuckles. “Well, ‘Latte’ is also another word for boner in German, so...” He sees the grimace I'm making and laughs some more, and I join in, while shaking my head. He steps away and repeats the process, getting another coffee ready.

"I'm starting to think that your language only has dirty innuendos and curses.", I remark, jokingly.

He grins. "That just might be my vocabulary." He pours some milk into a metal jug and froths it, adding the froth to the mug after the coffee is ready. Wincing at the shitload of milk he put in. "Here, a latte for the lady.", he says, while handing me the mug.

My eyes drop down of their own volition, as I take it from his hands. Openly staring at his crotch, where his sweatpants are clearly tented by his dick. And he comes even closer with the way I'm looking at him.

My gaze pans up again until it lands on his face, his expression stoic, as he’s pulling an eyebrow up, like he’s awaiting what I’ll do. I take a drink, tasting the coffee on my tongue. "Thank you. For the latte." Trying to hide my grin behind the mug. "Sir.", I add, cheekily.

He leans forward, placing his hands on either side of me, caging me in. The look in his eyes burning into me. I still grin up at him, but I feel like I'm in danger. In danger of getting devoured like one of those flaky croissants.

"You wanna say that again with your lips around my dick? Hm?", he asks and my breath halts. Thinking about yesterday again. When I sat on his bed, gagging around his cock.

"Maybe.", I whisper. He just leans down to kiss me and I can taste the bitter coffee on his tongue, as it strokes against mine. Slow and deep.

I put the cup down to the side before my arms reach up, holding onto his shoulders, his hair falling to the front, the tips of it brushing over my skin. I push some of it back, my fingers tangle in the long strands, while I answer his kiss.

He's not breaking away, still caging me in, even though one of his hands moves to my panties. The fingers toying with the hem, easily slipping under the fabric. My legs spread even wider, I squirm into his touch and our kiss gets messier, sloppier. His thumb finds my clit, softly pressing against it, and the light touch makes me needy for more.

"Fuck, please.", I whimper into the kiss, and I can feel his lips turn up into a smile. He breaks away, keeping up the constant brushes against my clit, kissing down to my neck.

My hand tries to reach for his dick, but he catches my wrist. "Just- let me.", he murmurs, pressing his hot mouth against my pulse point. Sucking on it softly. A needy mewl escapes me when his middle finger slips into me. Just one digit, not quite enough to fill me up, even with his big fingers.

Soft teasing touches, enough to get me worked up, but not enough to get me anywhere near finishing. And he knows what he's doing.

König pulls back, his lids hooded, his gaze intently on me, which makes me acutely aware of the expression on my own face, the O shape of my mouth. His finger is still moving inside me, the brushes against the most sensitive spot make me squirm.

I teether on the edge of an orgasm, until he pushes another one inside me, filling me up. His fingers move fast now, against my fluttering walls. Coaxing the release out of me and I come, pulsing around them. Leaving me wet and needy for more touches.

He pulls the panties over my pussy again, the fabric soaking up my juices in an instant. His hand clasps over it, softly massaging over it, until they soaked wet with my own juices.

König simply pushes his sweatpants down, pulling out his cock, letting it rest against my clothed pussy. Then he spits and a dollop of saliva drops onto my panties. The sound alone makes me whimper, while I lean back until my shoulderblades hit the cabinets behind me.

The spit runs down, right over the tip of his dick. He drags it through it, spreading the wetness on his length, soaking my underwear even more. Slow and deliberate, taking his time. The slick just being enough, so he can flit over it.

I groan at the sight, the filthy little move making me even hotter. He pulls up one eyebrow while looking at me, the smirk on his lips infuriatingly cocky. He ruts his hips forward, his hard dick pushing against my pussy lips and clit. The friction due to the fabric in between us, against my sensitive skin, is almost too much to handle, my hands gripping his arms, nails digging into his biceps.

His hands splayed on my thighs and he looks down, my eyes following his until we're both fixed on the spot where he is rubbing himself against me. The little hickeys on the skin next to it. His thumb coasts over the bitemark on my inner thigh, a faint imprint still showing up. He lifts his hand for just a moment, pressing a kiss to his pointer and middle finger and then pressing them onto the mark.

If I wasn't so wound tight from his teasing touches, I think I would've actually awww'ed at the little gesture, him kissing the bite better. Like this, I only sigh, grinding against his dick, searching for more friction.

He slumps forward, his forehead resting against mine. "Fuck, I need to be inside you.", he grunts, his words sending a shiver down my spine. He lifts me from the countertop, my legs wrapping around him.

"What, no magic condoms appearing out of thin air this time?", I tease him, my fingers stroking over his shoulders.

“The magician is out of props for such stunts.”, he grumbles. “And there will still be enough time to fuck you on every surface in the whole house.”

He hurries upstairs to the bedroom where he sets me down on the bed and we both scramble to get off our clothes. I pull my shirt over my head and fall into the soft mattress, watching him shed his. His dick is hanging out his sweatpants, half caught in the waistband, bobbing up and down with his movements before he lets the pants fall down to the floor.

He grabs a condom out of the pack that's lying out on the nightstand, the packaging torn at the front, and puts the rubber on.

My eyes pan up from the dark fluff of his happy trail, the tummy, the upper abs and his huge pecs, dark hair peppered over them. His nipple piercing. The broad shoulders, adorned with black ink that spans down his arms as well. Trying not to look at the parts where cuts and other scars disturbed the otherwise impeccable images inked into the skin.

He looks back at me, from underneath his eyebrows, one of them quirking up, as he climbs onto the mattress, his weight pushing it down.

I yelp and giggle, as he grabs me by the hips, pulls me into him, until the swells of my ass hit his thick thighs. My legs drop to the side on their own, and he takes that as the invitation it is, his hand pulling the wet panties to the side and just slipping into me.

We both groan as he settles deep inside me, the stretch of his thickness making my head drop back and my eyes roll back.

His hand catches my chin, softly digging into it. Making me look up as he sits back on his knees and slowly starts to fuck me.

“See how fucking pretty you are?”

His eyes are on me, on my face, while I look up at the mirror, focused in on the point where we are connected. Seeing how his dick pushes into me, until he's balls deep, his tip pressing up against my cervix.

Sliding out, inch by inch, almost completely pulling out. In again. I feel the stretch as my pussy takes him in. It's a tight fit, but I'm wet and dripping from how he worked me up.

And out. The feeling of emptiness only dissipates, when his hips snap forward, filling me up quickly, and a moan drops from my lips, the shape contorted to an O.

He starts to fuck me harder, his hand coming around my throat, his fingers closing around my neck, gentler than I would have liked. Pulling me into him while he pounds into me. His hand is other still grabbing onto my panties, the fabric aching as he uses it as leverage to move me into his thrusts.

Rip.

The sound of fabric ripping cuts through the otherwise soft erotic soundscape. The drowsiness drops out of his gaze, his eyes widen in shock, as he looks down, stopping his thrusts. "Scheiße, sorry.", he curses.

I laugh a bit while I shake my head. "Don't worry, it's just clothes.", sitting up on my elbows, reaching out for him. Needing him to continue.

He lets go of them, the fabric hanging from my hips, and leans forward, pressing a deep kiss onto my mouth in apology. His hand softly strokes the side of my face, his thumb caressing my cheek. Close, so close, his forehead resting against mine, as he rolls his hips against me.

He straightens back up, picking up his thrusts again. His arm spans over my whole body, the muscled limb covering half of me. I feel so small compared to him, the contrast so stark when I'm splayed out like this in front of him.

His hand moves down a bit and his thumb pushes against my lips. I lick it, play with it and then release it with a pop, but just a moment later two of his fingers push into my mouth again.

He sinks in deep, my lips closing around them. Two is almost too much already. I start to lick them, to suck on his fingers, hesitatingly at first, but the little sounds that drop from his lips spur me on.

He moves them in unison with the pushes of his dick into me. The combined touches making me lose my mind fast. It almost was like he was fucking me from the front and back at the same time.

I gag around him, spit coats his digits as I suck them off like I would another part of him. And I guess, he is thinking about that as well, the heat in his gaze intensifying.

The sight mirrored back to me – of his dick pounding into me, while his fingers are fucking my mouth all sloppily, pushing into the wet heat, my lips barely reaching the lettering on his knuckles, is getting me worked up.

From the way he's looking at me, his eyes fixed on my face, while I swallow him up, it's driving him crazy too. Groaning, as I take him deep.

Him, just him, fucking me. And me at his mercy. Full, so full of him. And I can't help but think about what it would be like to have him fill all of my holes. The thought alone sends a tingle of filthy desire down my spine and I hum around him.

"Fuck, look at you, taking me so well.", he drawls. His words, the soft growl in them, wash over me and I can feel the zap of pleasure deep, when he bottoms me out, his dick hitting the right spot again.

I come, my body arching off the sheets, my sighs and screams muffled by the fingers in my mouth, as my eyes roll back.

He doesn't stop, fucking me through it. My pussy squeezes around him, and while I still come down from the orgasm, I can feel his other hand grabbing my hip, holding tight. His fingers still in my mouth, stroking against my tongue. Sinking into my throat, the letters on his knuckles disappearing as he pushes further in, and I gag around them once again.

They leave my mouth, all of a sudden, and I take a deep breath. "Please fuck, I-", he groans. "I want to come in your mouth. May I?" The inflection in his voice is almost pleading.

I nod, the thought alone sending another shiver of arousal through me. “Yes.”, I answer breathlessly, still a little hazy from my orgasm.

He pulls back entirely, his dick slipping out of my pussy. I scramble onto my knees, while he gets up from the bed, standing in front of it.

Getting off the condom quickly, his hand running up and down his length, continuing to chase his release. My spit is still on the two digits that were just inside me, now slowly coating his cock.

I press a soft kiss to the tip that is leaking precum, tasting the saltiness on my tongue. Flicking it over the piercing. My eyes pan up, searching for his, before I take him a little deeper into my mouth. Sucking on his tip while he jerks himself off. Hasty and desperate. A rumbly moan shakes his chest, his eyes rolling back.

"Fuck, gonna cum.", he mutters, the words all breathy.

I hum around his dick, licking and sucking eagerly, when he spills onto my tongue and down my throat. I lick up every single drop, swallowing it all. He shakes and shivers when I don't stop sucking until he's spent.

I release him with pop, when his fingers grip my chin, and open my mouth to show him. "Good fucking girl.", he drawls, the praise washing over me, as I sit back on my knees. He crouches down a bit, his eyebrows raised in anticipation. Like he's waiting for something, but he doesn't say anything.

My cheeks blush red, as I remember what we talked about before. "Thank you, Sir.", I say, looking him straight into his eyes.

His answer is a deep satisfied sound, almost turning into a growl, as he leans forward, capturing my mouth in a kiss. Crawling into bed again, pulling me onto his front, until I’m strewn over him like a blanket that isn’t even big enough for the big man. He’s softly stroking my back, the touches comforting and gentle.

I push my cheek into his pecs, the hairs on his chest tickling the soft skin, and I breathe in his scent. The warm calming tone. I feel his upper body rising and sinking with every single breath of his, until we are in unison. The deep calmness almost carries me away, and I feel myself getting sleepy. I mean, we didn’t get a lot of sleep. And getting fucked liked this was tiring, although not tiresome at all.

In the silence around us, a thought of mine cuts through post-fuck haze.

“I don’t wanna go home.”, I whisper against his chest, after looking for the right words to say.

His hand stops for just a second. “Then don't.”, he answers simply, continuing his soft caresses.

I lift my head from his pec, looking at him. “Are you sure? I don't want to disturb your vacation.”, I ask.

“I'm not on vacation, I'm on leave.”, he explains. “And you're not disturbing anything.” A little reassuring smile is appearing on his lips.

“I didn’t bring much though. Not even like any more clothes.”, I say hesitatingly.

“Would it be terribly selfish of me to put you in my stuff to keep you here?”, he asks, the smile widening a bit.

I laugh. “I fear, I won't fit into any of that. I mean, I think I could build a tent to sleep in from the shirts you wear.”

“That's fair.”, he grins at me, pushing my hair out of my face. And then he kisses me again, sweet and slow, until I sigh against his lips.

“You have to stop kissing me like that.”, I say, teasingly.

His smirk drops from his face. “Why?”, he asks.

“Because it makes me want to sit on your dick again.”, I jokingly confess.

He starts laughing, his whole body shaking. “That can be arranged.”, he grins at me.

“But – we can’t stay in bed the whole weekend.”, I retort.

“We can’t?”, he pipes up, his question somewhere between a pouty joke and sincere query.

I think about it for a second. “Mmh, I don’t know. Might tire you out, old man.”, I tease him, sticking my tongue out at him.

His eyes light up, all of a sudden, I get flipped, the whole world is spinning around me. He is on top of me, his weight presses me down into the mattress. His thighs spread my legs for him, his dick lying over my tummy, already hard again.

He grabs another condom. “If you keep this up, we’re gonna go through the whole packet.”, he jokes, one side of his mouth topping up in a smirk.

“Is that a challenge?”, I ask, caressing down his chest, inching in on his dick, while he is still fiddling with the rubber.

He grabs my wrists and pins them over my head, stretching me out on the mattress, while I grin up at him, splayed out like that.

“If you want it to be…”, he whispers against my face, his lips kissing down to my neck while he pushes inside me.

The mug on the kitchen counter is still half full, the coffee now cold. I take a sip, relishing the milky liquid running down my throat. Sitting here at the kitchen island in just his shirt. The Dark Tranquility one he wore when we first met.

“What are you doing?”, he asks me, utterly confused, as he sees me. He put on his sweatpants again and they are as delicious as they were before. Especially in combination with his naked chest.

“Finishing my coffee.”, I explain, taking another long sip.

“But that’s… cold.”, he says, the disgust palpable.

“Yeah, I like it like that. I drink them lukewarm. At best.”, I explain, with full confidence.

“Woman, you drive me crazy.”, he sighs, then laughs, making himself another coffee. Fresh, hot and black. “One of these days, we’re gonna manage to drink the drinks at the temperature they’re so supposed to be enjoyed at.” The loud noise of the coffee maker cuts through my laughter.

“We can certainly try.”, I say, taking another sip from my blasphemous coffee.

“So, about your stuff.”, he starts, as he leans against the kitchen island. The mug in his hand is looking ridiculously small compared to him. Just like me.

“Yeah, my panties are kinda ruined now, too.” I say and shoot him a pointed look.

“I don’t have any panties that will fit you.”, he says, the corner of his lips quirking up.

“No shit sherlock.”, I remark sarcastically, lifting the shirt that is hanging from my shoulders. That’s almost reaching to my knees. You could fit three of me in there.

“We can go to your apartment, you can look after Mimi and get some clothes, and then come back here. It’s no big deal.”, he suggests.

I sigh. “You sure?”

He nods, just waiting for my answer patiently. While I contemplate if it was okay to stay here for longer.

“Okay, quickly, just to get some stuff.”, I agree.

When we go to leave, I notice that my shoes are neatly lined up, not at all how I left them, when I stormed into the house yesterday evening. Standing just right beside an old pair of his combat boots.

next part: painting his nails or more stuff in the Masterlist ~

#metalhead!könig #she likes the dark #könig #könig cod #könig mw2 #konig #konig cod #konig mw2 #könig fanfiction #cod mw2 smut #könig smut #konig smut #cod smut #könig x reader #tw: age gap

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octoberautumnbox · 9 months

Text

Aquamarine

Soloist Lee Chaeyeon & Male Reader

Word count: 1.7k

Categories/tags: smut, shower, glass, camera/picture, standing sex, standing doggy, creampie, fluffy (at least thats the plan)

a/n: birthday piece for the second half of IZ*ONE'S HoneyWaterz! she gets like one fic a year y'all are missing out. and as usual (lol) no proofread no beta im sorry i know its terrible

The water glistens against her skin, shining as it falls down her back. The city lights seem so far below you like you're in the clouds yourself. The smoke doesn't reach up here, nor the hustle and bustle of the metropolis below. It's only you and her.

Click, click, click. Find her through your camera's lens, taking perfect shot after perfect shot. She turns around and smiles a divine smile at you, and you suspect that she's stopped posing a long while ago; now, she's just glad to find you nearby.

She paddles adorably over to the shallow end of the pool and takes a seat. "Thank you for taking me out like this, babe. I love you so much. Everything is perfect."

She wrings her hair carefully and looks up over the moon, enjoying the cool breeze of tropical air on her face and chest. Click.

"Ugh, stop it," she giggles. "I wasn't ready. Delete that one."

You chuckle and place your camera on a dry, flat surface and join her in the pool. The water is warm between your toes, and you accept the welcome by sitting down in it right next to her.

You try to put your arm around her shoulder, but she shrugs it off cutely. "Don't, you idiot," she scolds lovingly, "I'm all wet."

Sulking away playfully, never mind your lightly damp Hawaiian shirt, you respond. "Wow, calling me an idiot just for trying to love you. I knew it, you've just been using me all this time..."

She laughs her signature laugh, painting the skyline of your heart in vibrant tones of aquamarine. She takes your hand and pulls slowly, bringing your arm around her once more.

"You're gorgeous, you know that? Everything about you is perfect." Place a hand on her cheek and bring her gaze over to yours. "How'd I end up with someone as breathtaking as you?"

"Shut up, babe..." she chuckles lightly as she places her hand over yours. "You know I fell for you first."

Close your eyes gently as the gravity of your hearts draw your lips together. You find her halfway through the darkness, but of course you did. When has she ever let you down?

The kiss you share is slow, respectful. You ask for permission from each other wordlessly, giving and taking just a tiny bit more from each other's love with every singular peck.

She breaks the kiss gratefully. As you open your eyes you're met with a goddess, ethereal and alluring. And she's all yours.

Without her forehead leaving yours, she whispers to you, "Let's go inside, babe, I'm getting cold."

~~~

Pull her by her waist into the shower enclosure and take her lips again. She strips you of your Hawaiian shirt, now soaked, and tosses it out of the glass cubicle. Her arm wraps around your neck, while her free hand finds the shower handle.

The showerhead comes to life, and warm water falls onto your back. Chaeyeon slips her fingers under your waistband and pulls down, taking away your last bits of clothing and relieving you of the growing pressure in your shorts.

You do the same, pulling off her dripping wet bikini bottom. Without ever breaking the kiss, she kicks them away and takes your hands onto her plump and firm ass. She moans lightly at your touch, music to your ears.

As much as you want to keep them there, you know there's more you have to do first. Break the kiss for just a moment, and see your girlfriend out of breath.

Grabbing the hem of her top, you pull up. She raises both arms to help you out, knowing that this also gives you the best view of your favorite part.

The wet piece of fabric moves up past her chest, and her beautiful tits bounce free from their containment. You keep pulling until the bikini top clears her head and finally her arms, and then you toss them out of the cubicle and shut the door.

She wraps her arms around your neck again. Grip her ass cheeks and pull her towards you, savoring her firm behind while you force your cock between her thighs.

She moans cutely at the sensation of your head right at the entrance of her heat. You kiss her again, torridly this time, and she returns your affections hungrier, more impatient, less quietly than earlier.

She pulls you even closer, pressing her soft breasts onto your chest, and the feeling could not be more heavenly. You know she's doing this on purpose, and so you respond in kind by giving her a smack on her butt cheek, forcing it to jiggle. As she's groaning into your mouth as a reflex, you leave her at a loss for a more heavenly moment.

Chaeyeon finally frees your lips, and the both of you take a deep breath. You can't get enough, though, and bring her over to the glass pane nearest to you.

"You're so fucking hot..." She traces all over your body with her fingertips. "How do you want me, babe?" she asks courteously.

"You have to smile for the camera, sweetheart." Turn her around to face the glass, and wipe away the steam obstructing her view of outside. She spots your camera sat on a table, facing the pair of you, and she blushes and smirks devilishly as she catches wind of your plan.

"Naughty boy... Hurry up and take me." Chaeyeon bends over and gives you a clear view of her ass, and shows off her pink lower lips for your pleasure.

You make her lean on the glass pane with her forearms as you grab her by the hips. Always the gentleman, you don't keep her waiting. Pull her lips apart, hear her groan at the feeling, and, finally, push your hardened cock into her tight pussy.

"Fuck..." Click. The flash goes off in front of her, and she turns redder in her cheeks. "This is so fucking hot, babe..."

"Happy birthday, baby. You're getting a private photo book of tonight as one of your gifts. Smile your prettiest."

You feel her velvet walls clench lovingly around your cock. It isn't a challenge at all though, with her slick lubricating her insides, to pull out nearly all the way, and force yourself back into her core.

Relish the feeling of fucking the most beautiful woman in the world. Take pride in how she powerlessly surrenders herself to your will. With every thrust deep into her pussy, you show her that she'll only ever belong to you.

"Babe, harder... Please fuck me harder." You comply with her request, as you thrust forward you forcefully pull her back. Her ass meets your pelvis at every pump, producing a symphony of slaps and groans.

Click, click, click. The camera makes its presence felt as flashes fill the other side of the bathroom. Push your goddess of a girlfriend harder against the glass, and she lets out a loud "ahhhh" as her nipples and breasts are squished onto the cold surface.

"Right there, babe, keep fucking me just like that..." Her walls only get tighter as your cock splits her apart. The sounds of her pleasure fill the bathroom as you bring her closer and closer to climax.

"I love you... so... fucking much, babe..." you mutter next to her ear. You can tell she's losing control of herself, she answers only in moans of ecstasy at the rough fucking she's receiving.

Hook her leg under your arm, raise it for the camera. Click, click. The view of her pussy being violated by your cock is crystal clear for the camera to capture. Click. Chaeyeon screams in pleasure as you reach new depths in the lewd position she finds herself in. Click. Her face is smushed against the glass with how hard you're pushing her. Click, click, click. Her nipples grow stiffer against the clear pane, spurring her on and on towards her eventual release.

"Sweetheart, you still good?" She can't answer, you know she can't. Just one look and you can tell she's long gone: her head thrown back, eyes rolled into the back of her skull, no regard for whatever she might be saying anymore.

Figure she's had enough. Conclude her long day with a bang. Give her a high note to end a perfect celebration. Better yet, make her sing the high note herself.

You grow more ravenous with your hold on her. "You know... One of your gifts... a whole photo book... of just tonight." Click. You thrust into her sex more roughly, chasing your high as you force her to reach hers. She can't defy you, and you know she won't. She's yours.

Her climax comes to her like an earth-splitting bolt of lightning. All at once, a guttural scream rips through her throat, click, streaks of her cum spray onto the glass she's pressed against, click, she stumbles as her legs give out underneath her, click, click, and her walls grip you in a desperate attempt to prolong her unholy pleasure as much as she can, click.

"I'm cumming, baby... Happy birthday--!!!" With a deep groan you shoot your cum into her womb, making sure every spurt stays in and takes. Her walls apply a heavenly amount of pressure on your cock, milking you for more, and you give her exactly what she wants. With every spurt of your hot cum into her abused snatch Chaeyeon screams louder yet, click, begging in gibberish for something she herself doesn't even know anymore.

You realize she's full up when your cum overflows from her pussy and down her thigh. She's taking heavy breaths now, and your wits are slipping away from you.

~~~

You find yourself sat on the cold tiled floor of the shower. Warm water still falls from the showerhead and onto the pair of you. Chaeyeon is taking her sweet time filling her lungs with air and steadying her breathing. Her head's leaned onto your shoulder, so you push her hair aside to give her a kiss on her forehead.

"I love you, sweetheart. You might not have heard me earlier, but happy birthday."

She can only respond in deep breaths and scratchy hums. She brings her lips back over to yours, last kiss before getting dressed for bed. And you know that meant "I love you too."

a/n: yknow i should just stop planning fics at this point lmao. anyways, happy birthday our feather chaeyeon!!!

#lee chaeyeon smut #chaeyeon smut #girl group smut #izone smut #kpop smut #fic box

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planete777 · 8 months

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꒰ BABY BOY .:. LN4 ꒱

(lando norris x fem!reader)

IN WHICH. y/n knows how to treat her boy; lando loves it all.

WARNINGS. 18+, MINORS DNI!, sub!lando x softdom!reader, unprotected p in v, riding, bondage, use of blindfold, choking, slight dumbification, lactation kink, pre-consented overstimulation, praise kink, lando just gets treated right!!!

NOTE. reverse reverse!! guess who's domming this time 🙈 after my friend said that lando looked like someone i would dom (fact), i've been planning on writing something pretty self indulgent like this. and after the whole discussion about his boob/lactation kink... yh i'm going wild!! im a tad bit sick rn so it might not be as good as usual, butttt i hope you enjoy it 🤭

credit to @bangssefi for the dividers.

‧₊˚✩彡 taglist @laciijane @ferrarrigirl @norrizzandpia @mimi-luvzyu @multifandomwhore-003 @nzygftoji (use askbox if you'd like to be added!)

"you okay, baby?"

y/n shifts to settle her hips just mildly off lando's crotch. she sees how his fingers twitch, writhing to rest on her waist, yet they've got a smooth red ribbon cascading and meandering upon the soft skin, binding both hands to the head board.

he whimpers, lip caught between his teeth, but nods. the cloth around his eyes slide up, minutely, and a gentle hand pulls it back down again.

"that's good," y/n smiles, although lando's blind to it, "you remember what we talked about?"

lando takes a while to reply, breaths in rapid succession, "yeah."

y/n wishes he can see her, but all she can do is let her touch bleed enough reassurance into his flushed skin, cupping his cheek, "baby, you're good, i promise... unless you want us to stop."

"no! please i— i'm just really horny. keep going i'm begging you," lando's words leave in an almost-sob, hands finding their way to clench around each other and his legs bending upwards. his girlfriend soothes him again, hot body gluing to his own and pillowy lips pushing into the skin of his forehead. he doesn't realise how much he needed it, his body untangling every tense knot embedded in his muscles, and he's relaxing into the sheets.

"ready, baby?"

lando replies with a whorish mixture of a moan and whine, hearing the dull snap of his girlfriend's bra clasp being unhooked. his mouth puddles with saliva, toes curling as his hands begin to tremble. his brain feels chopped to pieces and blended, giving him some sort of a hazy euphoria.

"open your mouth, lan'," there's a warm hand gently, but firmly, gripping his chin, and he's dropping his jaw, tongue stuck out like a slab of meat.

y/n's pushing the tit into his mouth and fuck, he has to clench his fists to not cum right there and then. it's so warm and heavy, his tongue coming to flick at the swollen nipple, and y/n's moaning so thickly, lando's cock plumps up even more than he thought it could.

"good boy," she sighs, eyes closed in veiling pleasure, "look at you, lando."

she's hitting right where it sends him crazy, it's pulling out a dirty whine, mouth sloppily moving against her nipple and then she's squeezing her breast.

the milk is so sweet, and so good, lando doesn't think he could get through it without crying. he's lapping messily, some of it trickling down his chin, and y/n wishes she could paint the picture behind her eyelids forever.

"fuck, you're so beautiful, baby boy, you're making me feel so good," her mouth just tumbles away, barely thinking as the pleasure seeps down to her weeping pussy, and the unexpected endearment has lando moaning loudly, mouth falling open, making the milk drip into the crease of his neck.

"y/n, please, fuck me," his voice is strained and broken, like it's been completely char grilled, and his girlfriend moves downwards to lick her tongue into his mouth. it's a rather soft, heated makeout, y/n licking, and biting and soothing as she goes. her breasts are welding into his chest, leaking milk into his skin and the sheet, and he feels so filthily good.

a hand grips his cock, tight and assertive, and he's choking and bucking his hips, whimpering at the sweet relief that washes from the pleasure.

"oh fuckkk."

his legs are quivering, his fingers dig half moons into his palms and his vision is so dark and concealing that every touch feels like a thousand zaps of electricity. y/n's strokes, just teasingly, and his legs are shaking, mouth slack open and unyielding.

there's no warning when y/n sits upright and drags her cunt over his dick like a tight, hot, plush cock ring. she's groaning and clenching when lando let's out a sound he's never heard from himself before. it's a scream borderline wail, and he's so fucking close to cumming, he tried to think of something else to flatten the knot.

"y/n, shit, you feel so good," his eyes are watering, catching the cloth around his head, and he's drooling before he's even property fucked.

his girlfriend grinds, caressing his face with a touch as light as feather, "so do you, baby boy. making me feel so so good, i love you."

his heart is swelling, and he's going to return the endearment when there's a slam of hips against his own and he's gasping, eyes flying open behind the blindfold. there's a litany of sounds that escape him, he can't even place what they are, but they all melt into sobs and moans as y/n's hips speed up.

his arms are so strained, he can barely feel them, and all he can is the repeating weighted drop of of his girlfriend, the slick grinds of her pussy against his crotch and the suffocating grip of her cunt around his cock, milking it for all it has.

"god, lando, your cock," she sounds so gone and slutted out, he's speechless, "you're so amazing for me."

the praise is too much. she's unrelenting with it all, the words, the riding, the love, that he's cumminh with no warning, spurting hot stickiness deep into her pussy.

"fuck fuck fuck, y-y/n— oh shit!"

there's a visceral tremble through his flesh, and he's so sensitive everywhere, he must be on fire. but y/n's not stopping.

her hips are eager and hungry on his cock, and after a while, lando stops bucking up his hips to meet her thrusts because he's tingly all round and all he can do is cry.

"you can give me one more, baby, can't you?"

he hears it, trust he does, but his throat feels grated, and he has no control over his brain. it's all milky and cloudy up there, and as his girlfriend continues to hop on his cock, the more hazy everything becomes.

he fucking loves it.

"can't speak baby boy?"

it's slighting taunting, but endeared nonetheless. she slows down, palms raking his chest, pulling at his nipples and then she's pressing a hand into his throat and squeezing.

they'd discussed it before, agreed that they'd both like to try it out with boundaries set, but fucking hell, lando never expected it to feel this good. his eyes are rolling behind his head and he's nodding, high pitched moans being pulled from his throat.

and then she's moving again, bouncing and slapping her hips, and what can lando do but indulge and let her? his cock is so hard again, it's nearly painful, and his face is so wet and clammy with tears.

"come on, baby, cum for me," y/n's moaning out, another hand flicking at his nipple as her fingers press further into his neck.

it's not on his own accord that he's cumming, semen dribbling pathetically into the plush walls, and he's feeling y/n tighten around him.

she's about to cum, but instead of feeling the warm wetness trickle down his dick, y/n is telling him to open his mouth, and a half-assed aim of milk sprays onto his face, narrowly missing his mouth.

he licks at whatever he gets, face wet and so fucking ruined, before she's properly cumming, body tense and juices flowing.

"yes, baby, just like that— hmm."

she's riding it out before stopping, leaning forward to press kisses into his wet skin.

"how are you feeling, baby?"

there's no words to describe it. he just says whatever comes to mind.

"i wanna see you, please."

there's a soft laugh, "i'm taking that as a 'i feel fucking great'."

lando grins at that, tiredly, as he nods, just as fingers nimbly untie the cloth around him. he blinks, acclimatising his vision, before seeing y/n, fucked out and glorious, before him.

"you're so beautiful, y/n," he sighs, watching as y/n leans forward, tits in his face, to detangle the silk around his wrists. his visions zeroes in on them, and pushes forward to give each one a kiss.

"that's all you, baby boy," she's sitting upright again, and he immediately wraps his hands around her waist, "all you."

#‧₊˚✩彡 planete.writes: ln4 #lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #lando norris smut #lando norris x you #lando norris x y/n #f1 fic #formula one x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1

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fabdante · 3 months

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my first piece colored for the @zutaracoloringbook !

the lines were done in clip studio paint, the color in marker, colored pencil, gel pen, and paint pen. with some minor digital touch ups after scanning.

you can color this piece for yourself for free! it's in this years @zutaracoloringbook , go pick yourself up a copy! there's tons of beautiful pieces in it including this one, all for free!

under the cut, for anyone interested, im going to ramble a lot about the process of this one because i just have a lot of thoughts asdfghjk the tldr is: this is not at all how i expected this piece to look, i fell asleep working on it at one point which is just wild to me, and 'ooo pretty colors'

i've sat on this one for a little bit and im still not sure how i feel about it? i like it but it's also not at all how i expected the color for this piece to look asdfghj

i originally thought the palette would be darker but after printing the piece i realized, given the lines were not as dark as they would have been if they'd been drawn traditionally, that i'd drown out the lines with that color scheme.

i also made a lot of little mistakes ranging from using colors darker then i wanted for shading to at one point Literally Falling Asleep While Coloring With Black Marker, thus leaving a black spot on the page that I then had to work around.

the paper also was a double edged sword. i did not print on marker paper or artist paper, which usually is not an issue with me. i know most marker artists will strangle me for saying this, but i have never drawn on marker paper? like ever? i taught myself how to use marker on mixed media paper and i have rarely used marker paper since. i've just never felt a need? contrary to what people have said, i've never seen any like abnormal wear and tear on my markers doing this and i, personally, just accept that markers are going to bleed. it's not my enemy it's just part of the medium. it's what markers do. they're a wet medium even on paper made for wet mediums they will bleed out and often bleed through a little bit. i learned how to work around that and use it to my advantage. this paper however, the markers didn't bleed at all? and they dried so fast it made maintaining an even texture and blending like i normally do a challenge. it just didn't have a lot of give? HOWEVER the color pay off was CRAZY like the colors are so vivid and bright and rich. like, i made my own color chart for my markers on index cards and then i would often test the colors on scrap paper of the same paper to confirm what the colors going to look like but when i would use colors on the piece itself they were always darker, richer, brighter, and just all around way more vivid. which makes the piece very nice to look at, admittedly asdfghjk. so paper pros: fantastic color pay off like crazy color pay off, paper cons: I Don't Know How To Blend.

for anyone wondering why i didn't print on marker paper: firstly, i don't have any this size. secondly, marker paper tends to be pretty thick and not super malleable so i didn't think it'd be safe for my printer. likewise, i didn't think any of my other paper would be either. so i decided to do what i did last year which was use a fancy paper stock i had that was printer safe for my printer paper so it's not just regular thin computer paper.

some of these technical issues i blame on being out of practice, i haven't worked in marker for a minute and this piece involving such large scale blending was a bit ambitious especially on unfamiliar paper (learning how to blend with markers i find is just a lot of practice with your particular markers to know how they behave while also knowing your paper). but im also just confused because i feel like the paper behaved better when i used it last year and with my self portraits asdfghj im wondering if i just printed this on the wrong side? more testing is in order before i work on my next two pieces dfghjklfghjk

so, anyway, i might try to color this one again because i don't know how satisfied i am with it. like, i like it, but also it just doesn't feel correct. i might do it digitally or i might do it traditionally, we'll see. but im not going to try again until i finish the other two i need to color. i think this stems from the fact that i just feel like the palette was meant to be different then the one i ended up with so it just still feels incomplete to me. we'll see how i feel, though, when i finish the other two.

anyway, if anyone read all of that, thank you for coming to my ted talk.

#zuko #katara #zutara #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar #atla fanart #zutara fanart #prince zuko #atla katara #atla zuko #zuko/katara #my art #i feel like when i use my markers i just want to talk about markers a lot because i love my markers asdfghjk #but also working on this piece was so weird like i did my self portrait first and it went so smoothly and so well #then i did this and so much went wrong asdfghjk

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solbaby7 · 10 months

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Burn Baby Burn (pt.2)

Cassian x reader

warnings: flirting, some angst, violence, maybe a little smut and a jealous Illyrian baby—i got a little carried away but i had a vision

summary: Cassian’s been busy and you come up with a plan to get his attention back—no matter how toxic your tactics may be

—

“Now remember, we just need a rough estimate of their troops.” Rhysand had already gone over the details of the mission three times, his violet eyes stern when regarding you. “The second you feel danger, you leave.” The words hold no room for defiance, hands curling around the fleshy parts of your arms as he continues, “I don’t need you being a hero, I need you to get back in one piece. That is an order.”

“Yes sir.” The term of respect sounds foreign on your tongue when regarding a male you’d looked at as family but something in his tone forces you to understand that even while a huge part of accepting the mission in the first place was just to piss off Cassian, the true danger of the situation never changed. Silly games aside, you’d be in the Autumn Court, filled with males with fiery gifts and even more heated tempers to match. Rhys had went over it twice, stressing how little regard they had for their women and for you to be twice as cautious as usual. “Get a number and get out. Should be easy enough.”

He runs an eye over you, taking in the dress Mor had chosen with a sigh. “Has Cassian seen you yet?”

“Cassian doesn’t seem to have much time for that sort of thing lately.” There’s no hiding the bite in your words or the little frown at tugs at the sides of your mouth as you run your fingers over the glimmering gems on your dress. It covered enough—the material thick and sturdy as it moulded to the shape of your breasts. It took some getting used to have so much midriff exposed, the cut out slicing at an angle from one side to another, the two pieces of fabric at your hip connecting by thin gold chains adorned in more diamonds.

It was classy enough but the sex appeal was unmistakable and while none of the important bits were exposed, the material of the dress made it seem like you were wearing nothing but your skin. Rhysand sighed, fighting the urge to buy into affairs that technically weren’t his own but the two of you were family and seeing you both fighting threw off the feel of the house. “Are you sure this is a good idea? I don’t think you should be going if you’re only doing this to get back at him.”

“Not everything is about him, Rhys.” You take a step back, willing your anger to contain itself as you fixed yourself, a painted finger running over glossy lips and curls that Nesta had promised would last all night if you just stopped running your hands through them. “I meant what I said. One night where someone will actually notice when I walk in a room and compliment me—even if it is Eris and his stupid, disgusting mouth saying it.” Tears well in your eyes at the embarrassment that swells from the confession and with a sharp breath, it’s all gone and a smile that doesn’t quite reach your eyes pulls across your cheeks. “I should go—I promised Nesta I’d say bye before I left.”

“Just Nesta?”

Your heels stop their clicking on the floor, the skirt of your dress held in your hands when you turn your head to look up at him. “She’s the only one who asked me to.”

You walk away before you can see the look of pity you’re sure is settling into his eyes and you don’t turn back when you walk down the hallway until you’ve reached Nesta’s room at the end of the hall and slipped inside.

She’s in bed; hair wrapped in tissue paper curlers, book nestled in her hand and you notice that she still refused to touch the fireplace, the oil lantern burning in its place to her left. “You headed out?”

You nod with a little smile, offering a little twirl when she admired your dress once more. “Right after this.”

“You visit your general yet?”

Nesta had always been good at that—prodding at sensitive topics while appearing uninterested, steely grey-blue eyes returning to her books pages as if she’d never said anything at all. There’s a pause, a gulp as you swallow and she doesn’t miss the nervous cracking of your knuckles at your sides. “No.”

“You going to?”

“I don’t see how that would be helpful.”

Finally she looks at you, a brow raised in faux confusion as she pointed a finger at you, your clothes, the hair and makeup that she and Mor had spent a little more time than necessary on—silently picking their sides without rattling the stability of their home and its structure. “Oh?” It comes out a little bored, as if you should’ve been clued in already. “Forgive me, I had just assumed that you’d understood that we didn’t take such time on you for no reason. I said get his attention—can’t do that without showing him what the hell he’s missing.”

A beat of time passes, you mouth a little wide as you look down at yourself once more before staring at the eldest Archeron sister. “Where did you learn about all of this?”

Nesta shook her book a little, her face finally morphing from its permanent cool expression to a content smirk. “I read. Now leave, I’m just getting to the good part.”

An incredulous laugh passes your mouth and it doesn’t subside until you’re in the hallway, the door not even fully closed before you’re slamming into a body much bigger than your own. Hands wrap around your waist before you fall back, profanities mixed in with apologies until you recognize that smell—those hands. The dark hair hanging at his shoulders. “My bad, I was just—“

“You’re actually going.” It comes out no louder than a whisper, hazel eyes widening at the realization, hands tightening their grip on your waist as if pure brute strength alone would be all it took to make you stay.

A few seconds pass and the house suddenly seemed too small even with its many rooms and wide hallways. All rational thought scrambles with his hands on you, warmth radiating on the skin exposed at your left hip. He’s so close, the smell of his soap, the conditioner he’d no doubt used more than necessary because he liked how soft his hair felt afterwards. You take a shuddering breath, hands on his forearms, fingers curled around, unsure if you wanted to tug him closer or push him off. “Yes, I am.”

For the first time he seems to take in your attire, the sultry eye makeup, your pouty lips covered in shiny gloss and something like anger flashed in his iris as he seemed to remember who’d you claimed you were wearing it for. The warmth on your body retracts in an instant, a sneer on his mouth and you can’t help the pang that digs into your chest.

Your arms cross over your body, insecurities on overdrive at the disgust that radiated from him the longer he stared. You blink away the tears that burn at your waterline and after a sharp breath, you square your shoulders and straighten your spine. “If you’re quite finished—“

“As a matter of fact, I’m not.” Your brow quirks at his raised voice, your hand settling on a poked out hip at his outburst. “What was that back there?” Cassian questions, tone settling down to nothing but barely a whisper as he stood before you more so resembling a young boy rather than a great commander of armies. “The things you said—were they.” He stops himself, eyes closing briefly before clearing his throat. “Did you mean it?”

“Which part?”

“Which part?” He repeats as if you’ve said something stupid, hands smacking at the sides of his thighs. “All of it. You—“ Cassian stops again, eyes squinting a little as if he’d called a council meeting in his brain and the whole sleuth of determined soldiers gathered, firing off a million different possible sentences. “You want another males attention?”

You sigh, anger beginning to subside when he spoke so softly, eyes so wide and vulnerabilities beginning to make themselves known. “I do if it gets yours.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Cassian snarled, hand waving the words away as if it were smoke in the air and you force yourself not to notice the tight fit of his sleep-shirt; sleeveless and snug, the grey color doing little to hide every dip and hard ridge of his body. The sharp ‘V’ peeking from the loose sleep pants have you sucking in a harsh breath, a blush fanning as you tear your eyes away from him.

“Is it?” You sound a little distracted, mainly because of the growing need that ensued from such proximity with the Illyrian and when you begin back down the hall and towards the foyer, Cass is hot on your heels. “I mean have you even noticed anything at all this week? I’ve been practically throwing myself on you and I’m certain you don’t even have a single clue on what I’m talking about.”

There’s no need to turn back to face him, you’re positive his silence is his filing through every second that had passed since returning home, every rejected attempt at spending a second of time together, every dejected sigh, every unreciprocated declaration of love and for a split second, you think he finally gets it when a softness settles into hazel eyes. “I am the General Commander of all armies for the Night Court.“

The ember of hope dies just as quickly as it burned to life and a snarl pulls from your throat. “Obviously, I know that.”

“—I am busy.”

“I know.”

“There’s just not enough time in the day for me to complete all of my responsibilities and then come home and baby you—“

Your steps halt to a stop, body freezing in place and the rigid line of your spine seems utterly unnatural. “Oh?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Cassian waits for the yelling, maybe some tears,braces himself for a few well placed smacks before showering you in apologies. “I really didn’t mean that.”

But the yelling never comes.

“I really should get going.” Your steps continue and this time when Cassian reaches out a hand to curl around your arm, you rip it away, steps faltering in your heels as you stumble to create distance between the two of you.

“Please—“

“Save it.” The eerie calm lacing every syllable is enough to make him flinch. “I’m busy and there’s just not enough time in the day to complete my responsibilities and baby you so just fucking save it.”

Words died on his tongue, mouth still parted with the intent to explain but you’re already gone, winnowed away without so much as a glance and Cassian can’t stop staring at the spot where you once stood. His jaw clenched when he hears a sigh emit from his right and none other than Nesta stood in the archway, tissue paper curls still tied in her hair, shoulder leaned against the wall with arms crossed over her chest as she peered at the soldier. “Idiot.”

“Excuse me?”

She scoffed, glare never faltering and if Cass was being honest, she didn’t look intimidated by him in the slightest. “You heard me then, so hear me now. Keep up what you’ve been doing—keep pushing her away, neglecting her to the point where she’s skipping meals and guzzling down half her body weight in alcohol or when she looks in a mirror and stares at herself like she’s the scum beneath your shoes—“ Nesta’s voice catches and the soldier doesn’t dare comment on it with her arms now hanging in fists of rage at her sides and the growing fire in that blue-grey stare is enough to have Cassian’s fingers twitching for the hilt of his sword. “You keep that up and I’ll show you exactly what I devoured when Hybern threw me in that Cauldron.”

—

The Autumn Court certainly knew how to throw a party and after a quick scan of the attendees, your previous nerves about your revealing clothing immediately subsides. Remaining aware is an easy feat with so much to look at, bright balls of golden flames floated in the air around the room casting their romantic shadows over the crowd.

One half of the room was dedicated to food, giant tables filled with refreshments, cheeses and breads, fresh fruits and cured meats. Giant flower arrangements beckon you closer, bending at the waist to take in the smell of blushing roses and golden azaleas. “A beauty admiring beautiful things,” A voice sounded from behind you , the arrogant aura washing over like the nights tide. “That’s not something you see very often anymore around here.”

“Eris,” You greet, a picture of professionalism as you refrain from smacking him clear across his face for what he’d done to Mor alone. Instead you offer a smile when he grabs your hand and presses a kiss to the back of it. “I’m sure you say that to all the pretty ladies.”

“That may be true,” Eris held a glass of champagne casually between two fingers, his suit such a dark shade of red it appeared black in certain lighting, a fitting contrast with his crimson tresses. “—but you’re the only person I’ve said it to tonight. Stole my attention the second you stomped through the door.”

A blush begins to burn at your cheeks at the complement, face turning to the side and you busied your hands by stealing a champagne flute of your own when the waitresses in flowing auburn dresses glided by with trays full of drinks. “I did not stomp.”

“You did,” He insists over a gentle chuckle, staring down at you over the rim of his glass. You’re too busy skimming over the assortment of food to notice the way the eldest son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court is taking in your figure like you’re one of those sculptures carved from marble that resided in the museum—its beauty forever persevered for others to observe. “I looked over because I thought one of the horses had wandered in.”

The laugh that emits isn’t exactly pretty, a quick bark of a thing but Eris still smiled because it was real. “Prick.”

“That’s definitely true.” The glass of champagne is finished in one gulp, shirt unbuttoned so low you could see the entirety of his firm chest flexing as he reached out a hand. “Dance with me anyway?”

Your eyes squint up at him, taking in the offered hand carefully before copying his actions and downing your glass, hand sliding into his own when you’d set the flute down. “I had a few glasses of wine before I got here,” You say without thinking. “Don’t complain if I step on your toes.”

The grin that smears his face is purely mischievous, interlocking your arm with his own, one hand resting over yours where he’d placed it on his bicep, he leads you through the thick of the crowd. “I’m sure I can handle it.”

Eris spares a seconds worth of a glance towards the group of pristinely dressed people with all sorts of instruments in their hands, music changing on cue and the bouncy tune shifts into something slower—more sensual. He faces you fully, the distance between you no more than a few inches and the burning warmth of a hand that settles low on your waist is borderline unbearable. It had been so long since you’d been this close to a male—to any male other than Cassian and Baron’s eldest son seems to notice. “Just relax,” He croons, decades worth of entitlement evident in the smooth glide of his dancing, the movements fluid, second nature as if he’d done it every morning since the day he could stand sturdy on two legs. “I’ll protect you if your big, bad Illyrian soldier comes looking for you.”

Your head jerks back at the taunt, fingers gripping tighter where they’re loosely resting on his shoulders, the lingering smell of cedar wood and bonfire smoke, freshly cut grass and the nights breeze in the middle of August present on Eris’ skin. “Trust me, he won’t be.”

His brow quirks at the underlying heat in your tone, the flicker of upset in your eye that he nearly mistakes for a shadow from the burning balls of light above. “In that dress? He’d be an imbecile not to.” You squirm under the attention, unable to keep eye contact as doubt crept in. A finger curls under your chin, forcing your head up gently and the undeniable hunger in Eris’ eye burned hotter than the crackling flames of the bonfires outside. “You’re the most beautiful thing in here.”

“It’s not kind to lie.”

His tone shifts, a frown pulling at the corner of full lips and abruptly he stops dancing. “I have never claimed to be a kind man,” Eris informed, words firm and it takes little time for you to realize that this was now the first born heir of the Autumn Court addressing you. “Hundreds of thousands of soldiers suit up for battle and die by my command.”

Hundred of thousands?

That was certainly a higher number than Rhysand had anticipated after the war with Hybern.

“I have never claimed to be a kind man,” He repeats, his hand never leaving its spot on your hip, his finger still remained curled under your chin, thumb tracing against the line of your jaw. “But I am honest and you are the most beautiful thing in this room. The fact that you don’t already know that,” Eric lets out a gentle scoff, seemingly transfixed with your mouth. “—I should waltz through the Night Court and steal you from him myself.”

Your breath catches and you pray he can’t hear the hammering of your heart against your chest. Your lips part to say something back. What? You’re not yet sure but a familiar scent fills your senses before you can figure it out. “I’d say she’s just about done here.”

“Oh look,” Eris all but purred, lids going lazy as his gaze dragged from your face to the towering man behind you, wings pulled tight behind his back and swords sleuthed between them. “It seems your Illyrian did come after all—we should’ve put money on it.”

“I’m not much of a gambler.”

Cassian’s hand clamped around your arm, grip firm when he pulled you from Eris’ grasp and tucked you under his arm, wing fanning out to completely block you from the eldest son’s line of sight. “If you ever touch her again—“

Eris shrugged casually, an amused smile on those sharp features. “Someone should be. If you can’t get the job done then let her be with a male who will.”

It all happens so quickly, you being gently moved to the side before Cassian threw a punch right at Eris’ face. “Shit,” You snap into action, quick to use yourself as a shield between the soldier and the High Lords heir, hands firm on Cassian’s shoulders as you use all of your strength to push him back. It takes a second but he finally allows you to move him, retreating from the crowd of gaping citizens too drunk to comprehend what had even happened.

But Eris only laughs, blood staining his teeth as he watched you leave.

—

Rhysand is already at the front door when you return, jaw set and eyes dark in your anger as you stomp into the house, hands reaching down to rip your heels off as you pass him. “I take it, it didn’t go well.”

“It was going perfectly fine until that fucking overgrown pigeon showed up.”

The High Lord hides a laugh behind the back of his hand, face returning to its original expression at Cassian’s sharp glare. “So you got the intel.”

“Oh, I got it alright.” You snap as you bound through the office doors, throwing your shoes to the side as you immediately start for the High Lords liquor cabinet. “He’s got hundred of thousands of able bodied soldiers at his command.”

Rhys and Cass filter in behind you, shutting the door with a click and both keep a healthy distance from you. Rhysand watches the drink you pour, the harsh grip on the glass and the way you barely flinch at the eighty year old whiskey. Cassian is no better, hands shaking, blood smattered across five knuckles and chest heaving like a bull preparing for battle. “Alright, well then what happened?”

“Everything was going fine,” The words break from you like a dam, a mix of frustration and anger, embarrassment for all those eyes on you while Cassian caused a scene, the burning need that pulsed between your thighs watching the Illyrian punch at Eris like the sand filled bags they used at the war camps. “—we were just dancing and Eris was telling me everything until he showed up acting like some white knight and fucking punches him in the face.”

Rhysand’s lips purse into a straight line, violet eyes filled with disappointment when he turned to regard his brother but Cassian wasn’t having it. “His hands were all over her! I mean seriously Rhys, you should’ve been there—you’d have done the same shit if it was Ferye.”

There’s a pause, a moment where Rhys’ eye glaze over and Cassian remained rooted in place, hazel eyes never leaving his High Lords as he bared his mental walls and broadcasted the entire scene like a motion picture movie. “Oh,” The High Lord murmured, hands settling into his pockets after leaving Cassian’s mind. “Well since you’ve returned safety in one piece as promised, I’m going to go anywhere else but here.” He backs out of the room, a smug little smile on devilish features. “Keep it down though, people are sleeping.”

You scoff at him, intent on grabbing your shoe and throwing it at his head but Rhys is gone before you can even get it in your hands. “I’m going to bed.”

“Like hell you are,” Cassian stops you with an outstretched wing, arms crossed around his chest and stance rooted in place as he regards you firmly but there’s something in those hazel eyes that compels you to listen—to stay. “We need to talk about this.”

“What is there to talk about Cass? I had orders, I followed them and you nearly ruined everything because you don’t want me but another male wanting me is somehow much worse.”

The Lord of Bloodshed raised a brow, utter confusion lacing hard features. All the fight seems to dissipate at once and he’s quick to fill the space and take the drink from your hand. “Why would you even say that? I love you, you know that.”

“Do I?” You say but it sounds more like a whine than anything remotely worth respecting and it’s pathetic how easily your body gravitates closer to his radiating warmth. “I can’t even remember the last time we’ve even talked for this long without you disappearing off.”

A stressed sound claws its way from his throat and suddenly his hands are on you. Cupping your cheeks to keep your eyes on him, sliding down to where Eris had touched near your jaw, down the length of your neck and collarbones before stopping at the dip of fabric near your chest. “You’re right.” You’re prepared to need to explain further, to plead your case to the stubborn General but the low drag of his voice catches you completely off guard.

It feels as through he’s robbed you of breath when he continues his exploration down your frame, thumb grazing over a jewel near your heaving breast and the little whimper that it pulls from you makes your head fall down. “You’re mocking me.”

“I’m not,” He assures, palms sliding slowly up and down the length of your arms before finding their home around your waist, long fingers splayed out at your hips and for once the warmth there feels right—comforting. “You’re right.” Cassian murmured softly as he lifts you up and sets you down on the giant work desk.

Words escape you when those hazel eyes are finally on you, large body towering over your own as he rakes in your dress and it doesn’t take much to know he can surely hear the pounding of your heart against your ribcage. “I got too caught up in the work,” A finger goes with the gem lined chains at your hip and the touch sends goosebumps down your flesh. “—forgot about my duties at home.”

There’s a pause and when you look up from where his hands are touching you, you realize he was waiting for an answer, a brow raised expectantly. You nod slowly, voice barely audible. “Right.”

“Right,” His finger trails down further, down the slit on that side and his touch is greedy when feeling the soft skin of your legs. Cassian steps closer, hips caged in by your thighs and a breathy sound passed glossy lips when you feel the hardness of him press right there. “How foolish of me.”

“Cass—“

The bottom of your dress is sliding up before you can even comprehend that this was really happening, everything you’d been hoping for all those nights you’d spend stuffing yourself in those corsets and flimsy underwears for a second of this kind of love and affection. You can’t even remember what you were arguing about when you’re gently nudged to spread out for him and then the General Commander of the Night Courts armies knelt down before you. “Will you let me make it up to you?”

“I—“ But the response get stuck when his mouth begins pressing kisses into any skin he can get his hands on, suckling gentle marks on the inner parts of your thighs until you can feel his breath fanning over the flimsy pair of underwear covering you. “Fuck—I can’t think.”

“I’m sorry baby,” He croons and it’s supposed to be soothing but with his hands all over, his mouth so near to the place where you’d needed him the most for weeks now—your body is on overdrive, squirming and desperate for a breath of air that isn’t laced with Cassian’s seductive words and eyes that were telling you everything he planned to do to you before he’d actually done it. “Such a pretty thing like you should never have to wait so long to feel good. Could you ever forgive me?” It comes out so soft, almost patronizing when he pulls your undergarments to the side and pressed a kiss to your weeping cunt.

A string of profanities tumble past your mouth and your hands are grasping for purchase at your sides to brace yourself but you can’t focus and every single inch of your body felt like it was being kissed by lightening. “Cassian, please.”

“Don’t beg me baby,” He’s not even looking at you anymore, too focused on running his fingers through the sloppy mess between your thighs. “Command it—I’m at your mercy.”

The words pull something out of you, a moan that can’t be contained and your hand digs into thick dark hair to guide his face back to your pussy, voice cracking with want when you pant out, “Show how sorry you are and don’t stop until I tell you.”

Cassian’s tongue is lapping at your dripping sex before you can even finish your sentence, words replaced by broken moans as he fucked you with his tongue like those sweet ice creams Elaine always had in the freezer. It’s instinctual the way your hips buck up into his mouth, legs shaky and toes curling around the edge of the desk as that tight coil in your belly grew tighter. He only groans when you cum on his tongue, fingers breaching past your clenching hole while he worked you through it.

Nothing can tame the ravenous moans that emerge, breathless gasps and hands that rip the dress up higher just to watch him work. “Cass,” His name breaks on your tongue, head thrown back and the gravely groan that rumbles through his chest is enough for you to begin to pull away; legs too shaky and body too boneless to hold yourself up but the grip around your waist is too tight. “Fuck, I can’t—“

He doesn’t stop. He doesn’t hear you or maybe he just doesn’t give a fuck because once he’s started he really wouldn’t stop and you worried that if he’d ripped another orgasm from you so soon, you’d pass out. “Cass, please.” Your legs won’t stop moving, toes spreading and curling at his shoulders and you suck in a greedy breath. “Need your cock—I want it Cass please.”

His movements slow to a halt, fingers retreating, mouth dripping and chin glistening when he stands to his full height, wings spread out behind as stiff as the fat cock straining under his fighting leathers. “That’s all you had to say.” Cassian doesn’t even bother fully taking them off, just undoing the buckle and sliding it down enough to fish out his length and tap it gently between your thighs. “I really am sorry, you know.” He confesses, his cock sliding between your slick lips and when the thick head of his tip catches your clit your eyes flutter shut. “So, so fucking sorry.”

The emotion in his voice makes you chin wobble a little and you push away the need to say more when his tip teases your entrance. “I know.” Your hand raised to caress his cheek, to tuck back the dark strands of hair that hang hear his shoulders and the your comforting tone shifts into something different—slower and filled with need as you spread your legs wide, dress sliding from your shoulders and neither of you move to pull it away from where it bunches at your middle. “But, if you fuck me real good, I might just forgive you.”

A glint shines in those hazel eyes. “Is that an order?”

Your hands brace yourself on his neck, grin matching his own. “It’s a command, General.”

Taglist:

@justdreamstars @star611 @wallacewillow0773638 @amara-moonlight @beezusvreeland @aroseinvelaris @naturakaashi

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar x reader #acotar x you #cassian #cassian acotar #high lord rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand #rhysand x reader #cassian smut #cassian angst #nesta archeron #a court of mist and fury #a court of silver flames #feyre archeron #acotar x reader smut

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thylacines-toybox · 1 year

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A strange find from the local recycle shop, an oddly seal-like plane with a dog pilot who can sit inside! Made by Clifford B McGuire, who upon searching seem to make a lot of pilot/aviator animals.

Process of cleaning them up below...

The sealplane caught my eye in the big toy bin first! A friend looked it up and discovered it’s meant to come with a pilot, who I found hiding way at the bottom of the bin. They made me laugh so I had to save them, either for me or for somebody.

The sealplane had a couple of stains on its wings and body, while the pilot had a very stained shirt and torn tie, and was just a bit scruffy looking. Apparently the sealplane is supposed to have a couple of engines under the wings too, oh well! Guess it just glides now.

First I unpicked all of pilot dog's clothes to clean and fix separately! The different materials would need cleaning different ways, especially felt which doesn’t wash well.

To help the hat hold its circular shape better, I turned it inside out and trimmed down the edge of the seam on the inside, then added a circle of foam to help keep it flat.

I decided not to wash this part, I just trimmed off the bobbly and tufty areas on the surface of the felt to neaten it up.

Dog had a hole in his neck so I stitched that up too. Actually I stitched all the way around his neck just for some extra strength.

Wash time! Using some warm water and a little dish soap, I gently scrubbed the sealplane's yellow spots without soaking it entirely, then brushed clear water through to rinse. I avoided scrubbing the felt pieces.

Dog actually wasn't too dirty under the clothes! I just gave him a little bit of cleaning, mainly on the light areas.

Since the shirt looked like normal shirt material, I tried soaking it in normal shirt stain remover! It worked really well! (Also it looked cool in the cup because a rainbow was shining through it while it fizzed!)

All the parts hung on the line to dry. Flying! Dog pilot must have pressed the eject button.

Once dried, I stitched the clothes back on to the pilot. I used the remaining piece of his tie as a template to cut out two new pieces of black felt which tie together.

Sealplane’s printed lettering was lifting up in a few spots, so I used a teeny tiny dot of superglue on the end of a pin to just dab under the letters and pressed them back down with my nail. I trimmed stray tufts off the felt around them too.

It would have been nice to touch up the flaked paint on the plane’s zipper too, but I don’t really have the right stuff for that, so I’m calling them done!

#plane #dog #pilot #airplane #aeroplane #not sure if this fits my ‘not animal’ tag #or my ‘seal’ tag #plushie #toys #white #brown #plushie modification #not really but it fits that tag for being a walkthrough of a process….#these guys really like upsetting my tag system huh

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snippychicke · 6 months

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Poppy Seeds --Part Two

Inspired by TooManyPsuedonyms work, which in turn was inspired by @semisolidmind fanart/cabin!Au for Playtime Poppy.

Dogday/Player!reader (attempting keeping it gender neutral)

Warnings: will touch on the after effects of trauma, but nothing is super explicit. Maybe some unhealthy coping skills (Dogday holding Reader on a pedestal) But otherwise we're giving everyone a happy ending. (Everything is wonderful and nothing hurts)

@twistedcece wanted tagged, anyone else?

Four: Water

It did end up raining later that afternoon. You had found Ollie a fresh change of clothes and had been showing the four around the farm. Thankfully, the day was warm enough that the cold droplets weren’t going to chill anyone too much, though Ollie squeaked as soon as the first droplet hit him.

It was just a light spring shower, but it was still tricky to convince Ollie to come out from the chicken coop he had taken shelter in. It wasn’t until you decided to join the others that he slowly peeked out, sunken eyes wide.

Kissy was twirling in the middle of the drive, her arms spread wide and her smile bright as ever. Poppy had her own arms outstretched, her face tilted up against the tickling drops and a smile on her eternally-painted lips. Dogday was brightly laughing as he pulled you out from the sheltered area to where several puddles were quickly forming.

Seeing you and Dogday stomping in the water looked far too fun for the boy to ignore, and soon he was brave enough to leave his place of safety (to the relief of the hens not used to the small child in their home). IT took him a moment to get used to the constant patter on his skin, but both you and Dogday were becoming him closer with open hands.

Laughter soon echoed in the air as the three of you would stomp from puddle to puddle. Kissy and Poppy didn’t join in --both not fond of getting muddy-- but enjoyed watching the three of you, two acting like overgrown kids and one finally able to act his age.

Things seemed perfect.

---

Later, Kissy and Poppy had corralled Ollie into the upstairs bathroom for a ‘proper’ bath. Judging from the splashing and outraged squeals from Poppy, the boy was still enjoying the new lease on childhood… or maybe Kissy had decided to join in the impishness. You weren’t sure, and was more focused on Dogday anyways.

Your bedroom had its own bathroom, complete with an old large clawfoot tub that Dogday was able to sit in, though it was a tight fit. So you had taken it upon yourself to grab a basin and a few washcloths to scrub his back that was still coated in sticky things you rather not think about while he handled the rest.

“I wish I could have done better on these stitches,” you offered as you gently cleaned around the sloppy uneven stitches where you had sewn his bottom half back on. The thread you had been able to find was a bright neon green and easy to see against his tan hair, and the ‘hide’ of his top half flapped over a bit of his bottom half since you had no idea how else to stitch the pieces together. Sewing has never been your forte.

You swore magic had to be involved, considering that a simple sewing together and undoing the tourniquet had somehow ‘healed’ the connection and he could feel and control his lower body once more.

“They’re fine,” Dogday reassured, currently scrubbing a stubborn stain on his arm. “The fact you were able to fix me in the first place is a miracle in itself, angel.”

“I know,” you whined, unable to stop glaring at the poor stitchwork. “But it’s green. And all wonky…”

He paused to look down at the stitching, a fond expression on his face (though you couldn’t see it.) “I like it that way. It’s a visual reminder of how much you cared.”

Your heart thumped at his words, and you bit your lip. It had been an act of desperation… but he wasn’t wrong. You had cared-- you had been terrified that you would do something to hurt him. To cause him to die no matter what you did. You wanted to save him-- to be able to save someone.

The memory threatened to overwhelm you, and you dropped your washcloth so you could wrap your arm around his shoulders, uncaring that you were getting your clothes wet by hugging him.

You had been so close to losing him. Close to losing your own life. Failing everyone yet again after you had failed years prior.

“Angel?” Dogday managed to shift, and before you knew it, you were in his arms, cradled against his body as you cried. “What is it?”

“I-I-” you stuttered, clenching your eyes as if you could push those memories out of your mind. Not just of him, but of everything. It was like a crack had formed and everything you had stubbornly ignored came rushing in.

“Oh Angel,” he sighed as if he understood, pulling you closer. “Sweetheart. It's okay.”

“How can you call me that?” You choked out. “I-I left all of you, ten years ago. I saw what they were doing and I ran away.”

“You were little more than a child yourself,” was not the answer you were expecting. As if he remembered just like Mommy Longlegs had. “Probably a bright-eyed intern or something, am I right?”

You weakly nodded your head. You had been so excited when your application had been accepted. Everyone was hushed about the project, but they were looking for brilliant minds to help lead the future. You had been chosen out of hundreds of others. You had signed so many non-disclosure and other legal papers you thought it was weird for a toy factory but dismissed it as corporate paranoia.

You didn't realize why until you stumbled upon that first file. Realized the toys looking after the kids weren't advanced animatronics. You hadn't discovered the whole story, but enough to send you running for the hills.

Literally.

You quit everything, and ran away into the woods hoping they would never find you.

“Besides, you came back. And now we're here. Safe.” His thumb wiped at your tears. “Cuddling in a bathtub.”

The last but made you laugh despite yourself and helped bring you back into the moment. You had to admit, it probably looked odd; giant Dogday squished in the tub with you--a full grown adult--more or less cradled in his arms. Both of you now thoroughly wet.

Your laugh made his smile widen faintly. “There we go. I know we'll all have hard days, but as long as we're here for each other, I think we'll get through it.”

Five: Wait

“I won’t be gone long, I promise,” you had said as you climbed into your truck. Without him. Dogday had all but whined at you, unashamed at the puppy-eye expression he gave you. “Day,” you had sighed, leaning out the window to cup his cheek as he leaned down. “I’m sorry, but the back is going to be full when I come back. And besides, who’s going to look after them?”

He should have pointed out that Kissy and Poppy were well able to deal with anything, the two girls were much more capable than they appeared. However, he had quietly conceded and stood back, allowing you to disappear down the steep drive.

That had been early this morning. Nearly five hours ago.

Dogday had barely moved from his spot, waiting to see the sunlight glint off your truck as it climbed the driveway. Or to hear its engine grumble as it approached. What if something happened to you? His sweet angel? He may have been trapped in the factory all those years, but he still knew the outside world could be just as dangerous. Especially to someone sweet and kind as you.

“You’re really whipped, aren’t you?” Poppy spoke as Kissy approached, carrying the smaller doll on her shoulder. “When I said they’d be our angel to come save us, I didn’t think you would take it this far.”

“They saved me,” he answered, his eyes still focused on this distance. He meant more than just his life, when he was strung up like a piece of meat for the miniatures to come feast upon. When he had been so blinded by rage and the need for revenge…

He could still see your eyes through the thick glass of the gasmask, begging him to stop. Your voice as you asked him to spare Catnap’s life because there had been enough death.

“If that doesn’t deserve loyalty, I don’t know what else would.”

“Loyalty. Right.” Poppy sighed, shaking her head. “You sure you’re not suffering from a bad case of puppy-love?”

Dogday paused, his thoughts screeching to a halt at her words. Kissy Missy giggled behind her yellow hand as he struggled with the idea. Puppy love? Certainly not. What he felt wasn’t all warm, fuzzy, yet superficial.

It was deep and all encompassing to the point it almost overwhelmed him sometimes when he looked at you. Whether covered in blood and dust with a look of grisly determination, or freshly showered and wet hair clinging to your face while you laughed, you were his angel. He’d do anything for you.

“Not puppy love… but I do love them.”

Just as the admission left his voice box, he heard the grumble of an engine, and looked down the road to see your old truck making its way up the zig-zagging path, the bed filled with things as you had predicted. His tail slowly started to wag behind him, belying his excitement and joy.

He loved you so much, and he didn’t care if you never felt the same. As long as you let him stay by your side day after day, he’d be happy.

Even if he had to wait sometimes.

Six: Memories

Ollie may have been naive to things you presumed as common knowledge, but when it came to technology, he was a veritable genius. Considering he had to use the old machines to often run and hide from the others in the factory, it wasn’t that much of a surprise.

The scrawny boy was able to help you hook up the various equipment you had brought home with you amongst the tons of groceries. A scanner, an old VHS reader, and an internet router with enough power to accomplish what you wanted.

You hadn’t left the factory empty handed, after all. Dozens of VHS tapes, hundreds of files and loose papers. You had collected every bit of proof you could. And you were going to finish Rowan's work.

“Are you sure about this?” Ollie asked as you popped the first VHS tape to convert into a digital file. “You’re going to be in big trouble if they find out…”

“I should have done this a long time ago,” you said with determination. “Besides, I promised everyone else. They’ve waited long enough.”

Poppy and the others were silent. This had been part of Poppy’s plan all along, after all. Bring the crimes of Playtime Co to light and assure nothing like this happens again.

Yet your hands shook as you scoured for the email address for every news company and journalist you could find. You remembered what Playtime did to Rowan, and while their factory had been decommissioned a decade ago, it was hardly the only one. They were still one of the largest companies on the scene.

Who’s to say that similar things weren’t happening there? More than one had an orphanage on site, after all.

This would certainly be their downfall, and they were bound to come after you if given half the chance. This little piece of heaven that you had these last few days would be stolen away from you…

Dogday leaned on you from behind, lanky arms wrapped around your shoulders while his chin rested on your head. The heavy weight was comfortable, as was the soft scent of vanilla that you had worked back into his fur after his bath the other day.

“Nothing is going to happen to Angel,” he growled softly. “Or any of us. We’ll protect our new home.”

“Our family,” Poppy added quietly, and got a determined nod from Kissy and a cheer from Ollie. You relaxed into Dogday’s embrace, wrapping your fingers around his arms.

--*--

Dogday and Catnap circled each other, growls and snarls echoing in the small chamber. Red Mist filled the air, yet somehow Dogday was still awake. Aware of what was reality and what was a waking nightmare.

Catnap had not expected to see his old friend again after ripping him in half and sacrificing him to the miniatures. All these years and he thought Dogday was with him--with the Prototype-- and only to learn he sided with her. Poppy. And you. The one Dogday called angel.

Dogday finally made the first move, swinging a broken pipe he had been carrying. Normally Catnap could avoid it, but his feet stumbled over the debris hidden in the thick red mist.

“Stop it!” You screamed, voice muffled by your gasmask as you suddenly appeared out of the mist. Dogday nearly slammed the pipe into you, but stopped a hairbreadth away. Catnap was just as stunned as his counterpart as you stood protectively between the two large beings.

“There’s been enough death,” you continued as Dogday lowered his weapon. “I know he hurt you. I know he’s done a lot wrong, but…”

“He doesn’t deserve your mercy, angel,” Dogday growled softly. “None of us do, but especially not him.”

You shook your heads, arms still stretched wide. “Maybe, but I’m tired of all this death. Everyone’s been wronged here. The horrors that you all went through, even before the Hour of Joy. It has to end, and I want it to end now.”

You protected him. Stood up against the Prototype when He came down and tried to end Catnap’s life and steal his body to integrate with His. Catnap vividly remembered the determined expression on your face as you faced off against his fake-god.

You… were merciful. Kind. Real. While the Prototype had stayed to himself, distant from everyone else, you walked with them. You had taken those four away from the factory, swearing to those left behind that help would soon come.

You would save them.

Catnap had to waitfor little less than a week before seeing your promise come to fruition. Not years, or another decade of pain and suffering. Less than a week and all sorts of people were swarming the factory.

You had made everything public knowledge, so the company or anyone else couldn’t just sweep them under a rug and dispose of them. He watched as humans cared for the little ones, offering the food and water that they had been deprived of for so long. PJ Pug-a-pillar, Huggy Wuggy, and others he didn’t know were still alive were pulled from the hands of death and into life. Freedom.

He could have stepped into the light and joined them. He knew the miniatures would be happy about that…yet watching one of miniature counterparts huddle close with its brethren, all of them with juice boxes and blankets, reminded him harshly of what he had done. He had done so much in the name of that false-god…

He had to find The Savior and do what he could to be redeemed.

#poppy playtime #poppy playtime chapter 3 #dogday poppy playtime #dogday x reader #dogday/reader #dogday x player #dogday/player #poppy #kissy missy #ollie

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anadiasmount · 8 months

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painting date with jude filled w messy kisses 🤭🤭

cherry coated lips - jude bellingham x reader.

psa 🗣️: what about first kiss with soon to be bf! jude??? 😋😋 (also i did not proofread this so i hope it isn’t to bad to read.)

the rain had been predicted but part of you wished an prayed it would’ve been clear so your date with jude wouldn’t be canceled. it would been your 6tg date with him. the first one was him taking you to a fair, and latest where you had invited him over to make dinner and watch movies.

you loved his ideas of dates, always going above and beyond to make you feel special, he always knew how to leave his mark, and today wasn’t any different. he planned to take you on a evening out to a nice restaurant and finish the night by going to his favorite spot with a view of the new city he lived in, painting and having late night conversation.

with jude it could be just that, talk hours and hours together till the sun rose and moon was bright. he made you feel like the luckiest girl and you were. you were lucky to have met jude, and in any given occasion he became your person. he understood you, he cared for you, he knew you better than yourself and that was a bit scary at first.

while you always surrounded yourself with your circle of friends, when meeting jude you grew a soft spot and love for him. you both agreed to take it slow to relish the slow burn every time you were together. to feel the feelings inside every time. the tension was always present but lately it began to fill the room anytime you were together.

you became a nervous and stutter mess with him. not being able to keep eye contact when he stared into you. you skin burning everytime he held your hand or kissed your cheek goodbye. you wanted more but you felt unsure if he felt the same way you did for him.

you wanted this to go different from your past relationship. the last one made you feel like a shitty person, always calling you naive or clingy, being insecure when you went out or even alone in private. always complaining to you even when they were in the fault. they blamed you for everything and in the end you had enough. it wasn’t love it was being manipulated and constantly controlled by a person who couldn’t even figure out their own life.

with him it was different. he was almost too perfect to be true. a gentleman straight out the movies who made you feel like there could be no one else in the world besides you two.

which is how you felt right now. you were sat on the carpet of your flat, candles surrounded the place as the power had gone out due to the storm, but in a way it made it feel more romantic. the evening was filled with yummy takeout from a hidden spot in the city, a place only you and jude knew after going finding it randomly. since then it became your guys spot.

you giggled and laughed at the stories he told from when he started the academy at birmingham, later on in his teenage years in year school. about how jobe and him were day ones and valued family over anything. football was his life, but family and friends? we’re his main priority. just like you since they were the only ones there to lift you up after anything.

“have you seen those artist on tiktok where they use their led lights when painting? i feel like that right now with all these candles. i wish i could see the colors properly to see what i’m working with,” you said, licking your lips in concentration as the thin brush ran over the outline you had drawn into the canvas.

you looked over to the side, jude had suddenly came close to you, a arm around you and but placed on the couch cushions barely touching you. you could smell the faint cologne on him, driving your senses a bit into overdrive. you had been sitting on your bum but your knees began to hurt and now they were angled to the right.

“whatever the ending piece is, i’m sure it will look great, y/n,” jude said with a smile on his face, clinking the brush inside the glass of water on his side. jude looked over to see which brush and paint color to use next, quickly looking at his canvas before going with his intuition.

the familiar tension grew in the air, your bodies close together that if you moved you’d be side to side. you cleared your throat scratching your temple feeling like you’d explode any minute that passed by if you didn’t say or do anything. you attempted to distract yourself in the art but your mind was tracing back to him. jude. ir always seemed to be him.

you thought of every encounter together. that first time you met him and the kiss on your cheek when you had left, to right now where you wanted to do more than that. not sex but share your anticipated first kiss. the kiss that seemed to be interrupted by someone passing by, a loud noise, or a sudden jult or text. it was always something that had delayed the moment.

jude could feel your sudden change in body language, the end of the brush tapping against the canvas as you think loudly. he wanted to hold you against him, before he had to leave and wish he had done more than that. he wanted to taste a small bit of you, show you that whatever you felt he felt the same and stronger.

without hesitating, he brushed closer to you, being able to smell the hair products and see the glint in your eyes as he approached you. “penny for you thoughts?,” he asked softly, seeing you smile nervously as yo finally landed your brush on the outline. “not much, just thinking about school and work. the usual,” you shrugged as lighting struck again.

“what’s the usual?”

“you…” you confessed, looking up to see jude already starting at you. you were being openly honest with him, not wanting to lie because he was the only thing that consumed your head.

“what’s about me?” jude hummed, his finger discreetly tucking a piece of hair behind your ear as he cocked his head to the side. your stomach clenched tightly with butterflies as you could’ve sworn he stared at your lips and leaned closer.

“that if you…” you licked your bottom lip unable to get the words out, feeling like a shy school girl when getting called out or seeing the popular guy at school. “that if you feel the same way i do… feelings wise and that this isn’t just a waste of time or anything like that…” you said quickly, feelings jude’s nose ontop of yours.

“oh those feelings…” jude traced and e his nose into your cheek, watching the way you bit the corner of your lip as he did. “the feelings where you want to be reassured huh? the feelings you’ve hid because you’re afraid they won’t feel the same way? but deep down you know they do feel the same way…” he taunts, closing his eyes and breathing loudly at the proximity.

jude’s nose traced back ontop of yours, watching how you gulped heavily as his top lip ever so slightly brushed against yours. “tell me you want this, y/n… i’ll grant you every wish you want or ask for because i’ll do anything to call you my girlfriend…” jude said breathlessly, his hand coming to hold the back of your head as your pupils grew wide.

your hand came to his jaw, tracing your thumb over his jawline as he closed his eyes and hummed in relief. “kiss me jude…” you whisper not wanting to hold back or be interrupted by anything. jude sucked in a breath tasting your cherry coated lips he pulled you closer, his lips molding with yours that made his heart race a bit.

his lips danced with yours in sync, not once pulling back as all he could focus on was the way the two of you had gotten lost into it. his tongue wanting to be grant permission and tracing over your bottom lip, to be inside to fully taste you, and once he did all he could do was let out a groan as you whimpered. jude was in love with the way you kissed, touched his chest as your lips never parted from his, the way you tasted sweet and all his.

you pulled away first catching a breath as your hands rest on his chest, biting your lip in nervousness. jude looked completely in utter chaos, fucked over, his brown eyes now hooded as they continued to stare at you, running his tongue over his lips to see you shyly smiling. you placed a final peck onto his lips, jude closing his eyes rapidly so he could relish the kiss further.

“god i’ve been dying to do that since we were on that ferris wheel…” jude said chuckling, kissing your closed eyes and tip of your nose, not failing to notice how your lips were slightly swollen and plump from the kiss. he wanted more and now that he said what he wanted to say, there was no going back for the two of you.

“about the girlfriend thing-” you started to say but jude cut you off, “thought our kiss made it clear?” jude teased, watching how you tucked yourself into the crook of his neck feeling giddy. “you are my girlfriend right, princess?” he asked you again, wanting to hear fall from your lips. “yes jude… as long as you’re my boyfriend handsome…” you say coming back up from your spot.

“i think a kiss will confirm it all…” jude cocked his eyebrow, leaning down to capture your lips again, smiling into it as he heard you giggling. a familiar sound of the microwave turning back on and the lights suddenly brighting the room made you realize the power was back on, your kiss interrupted again or maybe was the cause of it.

“oh my gosh! jude look at my painting!”

#judey thoughts 5️⃣#jude bellingham #jude bellingham imagine #jude bellingham x reader #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham one shot

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sprout-gt · 8 months

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thinking about borrowers

while borrower human interactions are very fun, i think its just as nice to imagine how borrowers live on their own. how their unique living situations influence their lives and what they do when no humans are around.

thinking about borrowers making connections with the animals that roam the house/apartment they hide within. a borrower taking a dog treat they need to handle with both hands in order to befriend the canine. a borrower creating a makeshift cat toy out of random scraps of fabric and feathers pulled from pillows. getting so close with the animal they are able to ride them around.

thinking about borrowers making art out of the bits and bobbles they collect, turning all the possessions they know won't be missed into their own creative expression. a borrower snapping of the graphite end of a pencil and tearing off a corner of a notebook page so they can sketch like they've seen a human do. a borrower learning they like to paint and draw and make and write.

thinking about borrowers having unique notation to communicate important information silently. borrowers scratching symbols into the wood of their crawl spaces to show what times are safe to venture into human territory, what kind of room it is, if there are any animals to look out for, directions to take. since light is a dangerous giveaway, borrowers will have to learn how to navigate these dark passageways relying on their sense of touch.

thinking about borrowers constantly wondering what the world is like when it is built for your size. a borrower gazing up and up at the elevated kitchen cabinets, almost being unable to think about being able to reach up to them without effort. a borrower seeing all the things that the humans have made for them, when everything they possess has needed to be made or taken. a borrower wishing that just once they could tower and stretch and fit into places.

thinking about borrowers making meals together, cramped in the small unnoticed spaces of the foundation, using recipies passed down for generations using bits and pieces of different foods whose absense wouldn't be noticed. borrowers laughing together over small mistakes and teaching each other the techniqes of how to properly heat something over candlewick. borrowers eating together with their hands, using bottlecaps as plates.

#g/t #g/t community #giant/tiny #g/t writing #g/t prompts #borrowers make my brain go wrrrrrrrrr #all the possibilities are delicious

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lucky-draws · 10 months

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(transcript + some notes/explanation under the cut:)

i feel like the context of this is maybe only apparent in my own head LOL so basically ive kind of imagined an au where, based on the rebirth ending, james has succeeded in bringing mary back to life, but also maria, and also james gets killed in the process. so it's basically just maria and mary alone in the townTM trying to figure each other out. and this is a letter maria sends mary at some point basically. transcript in case the font is annoying to read:

Mary, You’ll have to forgive me if any of this sounds a little weird. I haven’t written anybody a letter in years, and I’m not sure if I have much of a way with words. Though I’ve been spending a lot of time in Ernest’s library lately, so hopefully some of his great literature has rubbed off on me. Somehow, I had this idea that I never liked reading much - that it wasn’t really my style - but I ended up getting kind of hooked. His dusty old books sure aren’t the worst company in this town, at any rate. I wonder what we really are, you and I. I used to think of us as two music box dolls: dancing side by side, spinning in perfect unison to somebody else’s tune. Like a pair of clocks keeping the same time. Two parallel lines, and an impossibility for us to ever intersect, to face each other head-on without some kind of disaster.

We’re not completely identical, though. If you looked closely at me - if you could bear to do that - you’d see all my imperfections. I lack your fine details. The paint on my lips is messier, my joins are showing, and there are bits of sprew left between my fingers. Pick me up, and you’ll feel how much lighter I am - I’m missing a lot of internal parts, you see. I’m a knock-off - we were cast from different molds. You were born of nature, while I was born from your very own killer. But I suppose I don’t need to tell you that. Do you hate me? I understand if you do. Or maybe I’m not so important - maybe you can only think of him. Or perhaps you’re trying not to think of anything at all when you sit by that lake for hours on end. I don’t know how you can stand it - going to the lake every day. It's so quiet. No ducks, not even a single bird. I’d go crazy, I think. That’s why I like to stay at the bar: there’s no one here either, of course, but it feels easier to imagine there might be. To pretend that we’ve only just closed, that those drinks on the table belonged to the last customers, and not to me. I’ve been so restless lately, sitting in the bar all night. I wonder if - no, I guess I’m hoping that - something’s going to give, soon. I think I’m losing the beat - I’m spinning slower than you are. I think it’s because I keep getting distracted, always thinking of you. I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s simply because you’re the only thing in this dreadful town that’s not a monster. But I think you must be as lonely as I am. Much more so, probably. And I can’t help but wonder what it would be like if you’d only reach through the mirror and touch me. I’m full of missing pieces, I know - but I have this notion that between us, we might just be able to come together into something like a real person. You know, some days I feel I hardly know who I am; but other times I feel so sure that I’m beginning to dance to my own beat. It’s no fun dancing alone, though. Well, I guess you know where to find me. I’ll be waiting at the bar tonight. I always am. I’ve waited there every night - for something, someone, anything, anyone - for what feels like forever. But these days, I’m just waiting for you. See you around, Maria

#silent hill #sh2 #silent hill 2 #maria silent hill #mary shepherd sunderland #just realised you can see the cursor in some of these because i was being insane and creating these in google docs. oh well <3 #i was gonna do an art piece w like the music box doll visuals and a bit of text but then i realised i had much more than just a bit of text #so it became a whole ass letter

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only-the-moon-will-tell · 8 months

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Headcannon: Poly relationship! With Noah and Nick

A/N: Now my intention was for this to be a lil fluff piece but somebody and I'm not saying names or nothing @artificialbreezy 👀👀 was discussing something with me and brought out my whore mindset and so here we are 🤷🏾‍♀️

- imagine you come downstairs one morning and you see Noah cooking breakfast while Nick is sitting up on the counter and they're just talking and joking

- Thankfully they don't see you yet so you just stand there with your arms crossed in awe watching them filled with nothing but love in your eyes and amazed at how you got so lucky

- Noah perks up and says "hey it's almost done you wanna go get y/n?"

- And Nick hops down from the counter and turns to leave and sees you standing there and jumps "oh shit you scared me how long have you been there?" You don't answer as your too zoned out

- Nick comes closer and taps your shoulder and waves a hand in front of you "hellloooo earth to y/n" which snaps you out of it

- You shake your head and look at nick not quite looking him in the eyes (his eyes are so pretty I'd fucking panic I'm sorry)

- Lots of "yes princess?" And you going "yes my love?"

- Physical touch! One of them is always touching you whether it be laying their head in your lap when chilling on the couch or an arm around your shoulder in public they just need to touch you!!

- NSFW

- Noah? Daddy Kink

- Nick? Sir AND Daddy kink

- When it's just the three of you at home you just call them "daddy" or "sir" because that's their name now no discussion 🤷🏾‍♀️🤷🏾‍♀️

- Degrading 🤝 Praising

- As Miley Cyrus says ✨ You get the best of both worlds ✨

- "Oh look at that our little slut does know how to follow instructions"

- If you're a brat then it's OVER

- Cause Noah? Oh he might lessen up on you if he thinks you're learning your lesson but nick? He stops when he knows you've learned it

it doesn't matter if it's writing line while one of them is stuffed deep inside you and filling you with cum you better still be writing those lines and they better be legible or it's just gonna get worse for you

Or maybe they'll tie you up to a chair and attach a vibrator to you but it'll barely touch your clit giving you just the bare minimum to keep you on edge for as long as they want you too

noah would probably eat you out (he's a fucking MUNCH i just know it) meanwhile Nick is holding you down making sure you can't squirm away while just saying shit like "aww you look so pretty when you cry"

or or "don't beg him to stop now you wanted this didn't you?"

- Nick has a dacryphilia kink so when you have tears running down your face Noah might soften a little bit on you it just eggs nick on more

- He wants to see how many more tears he can make you cry

- Not his fault you look so pretty when you're ruined behind repair

- "Aww your mascara is running a little baby...here let's make it run a little more"

- Their favorite part of ruining your makeup? Your lipstick of course

- It's all smudged and nearly gone cause they had to put that fucking mouth of yours to work

- Its not their fault you decided to keep running your mouth all day talking about how they weren't gonna do anything to you and they were just so so weak

- Now here you are hands tied behind your back and hair an absolute fucking mess cause they can't stop yanking it and caressing your head as your struggle to take them in your mouth

- "Finally getting to put this filthy mouth to good use"

- One would grab ahold of your hair so you can't move while the other grabs your face so they can fuck your throat just how they like it

- Spit running down your chin and onto your chest but don't worry! They fuck your pretty tits too and paint them with cum

- Facials!!!! Gotta make sure you don't forget who's cumdump you are

- They probably jerked off at the same time so you could be covered with both of their cum

- "Open up and tongue out princess" and *click* there goes another picture to add to their private folders

They're favorite part of it all tho? when you're so far gone you can't even think let alone speak

"You gonna keep acting like a fucking brat?" and all you can do is babble about absolute nonsense and moan in response

#bad omens #noah sebastian fic #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #noah sebastian smut #noah sebastian #nick ruffilo #nicholas ruffilo #nick ruffilo smut #Nicholas ruffilo smut #bad omens smut #bad omens cult #Nicholas ruffilo x reader #nicholas ruffilo fanfiction

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sporadicthingcollection · 6 months

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Paint Job (Buggy the Clown x F!Reader)

Summary: In which Buggy indulges his two favorite hobbies: doing your makeup and driving you crazy. Pairing: Buggy the Clown x F!Reader Rating: General. Word Count: ~1k. Warnings: Pregnancy. A/N: my birthday was yesterday so i wrote this for myself

Your belly button popped out. He had no idea until you stripped your clothes off for a nap and fell asleep cradled in that dumb pregnancy pillow you use instead of cuddling with him.

He squints at it. It looks funny. Round. Sticks out. Kinda like...

...hmm.

The intrusive thought hits him like a fish jumping out of the water and into a boat.

You'd look so cute and he'd get to show off his artistic talent. Not to mention that everyone would know whose baby is in your belly. Not that there's any doubt, of course, but he has to mark his territory somehow and he suspects that you wouldn't appreciate being peed on.

(The obvious answer of putting some jewelry on those naked ring fingers of yours has occurred to him many times, but that thought is somehow scarier than fatherhood. So he ignores it.)

Grabbing his bag of tricks from the vanity, he tiptoes to the bed. He sets himself down slowly, gently, carefully. The bed squeaks as he eases his weight onto it, but you don't stir.

He works quickly. First some white greasepaint, squeezed onto his wrist and dabbed onto your belly with a makeup sponge. Follow that with a bit of black paint, applied with a careful stroke of the brush. Then pigment sticks for the detail work and outlines...

The baby seems to enjoy it. It occasionally moves in response to his touch. Nothing herky jerky -- just little shifts and nudges. Makes his heart melt. He can't wait to meet the little rugrat.

And now the piece de résistance, a dab of red right on the mound of your navel.

Et voilà. Perfection.

He leans back to marvel at his artistry as he wipes the extra makeup from his hand. In another life, he'd have made a damn good painter. Hell, maybe he should invest in some acrylics and canvas. Start a money laundering scheme.

Buggy notices that your eyes are open. Two little windows into a warm, dark abyss. The same color as falling asleep in a cozy bed on a cold, dark night.

“Having fun?” you ask.

“Tons,” he says coolly. “How was the snooze?”

“Great, ‘til your kid started tap dancing on my bladder.” You lean back on your elbows as you stretch your legs out, splaying your toes out like Richie does after he wakes up from a nap. Your belly rests on your thighs now. Try as you might, you can't see over the top. “What were you doing?”

He hops off the bed and offers you his arm, easing you to your feet. He guides you to his vanity with a hand on your waist. Your gait has gained a wobble and, while he's never seen anything hotter, being on a constantly rocking ship makes him nervous.

Your eyes go wide when you see his Jolly Roger painted across your stomach, your belly button forming the nose. You twist this way and that, your smile growing with each shift.

He rests his head against yours. “So everyone knows just who put you up the pole,” he murmurs.

“As if there's any question with how handsy you are,” you snort. You turn that warm smile to him. “Love it, Bugs.”

He didn't think you'd be upset, not really, but hearing you happy eases his nerves greatly. “I decided to take an impressionist approach,” he says. “You can tell from the brush strokes and my liberal use of white.”

You were right, that night you first spent together: you laugh like a gaggle of News Coos. Clattery, loud, inelegant. It's his third favorite sound in the world. The second is that snort you make when you're trying not to laugh, and the first is... Well, his pursuit of that sound is what led to your current condition.

He pushes the gag a little further. “Made it during my Alabastan Period, where I was influenced by--” You push your lips against his. He keeps talking, just to annoy you. “--traditional geometric patterns of nomadic--”

You grab his cheeks and shove your tongue in his mouth. Once he's runs out of breath, you pull away with a big red splotch across your smile. “Shut up,” you say.

“Never.” He moves behind you. He pops his hands off to lace his fingers underneath your belly as he drapes his arms around your shoulders. "How's that?"

You sigh in relief as the weight is lifted off your organs, your spine, everything. "Fucking hell, thank you," you breathe.

He makes a mental note to thank the old ex-con who told him the trick. Surefire way to make your old lady love you forever, she'd said, grinning at her husband. How else you think I ended up with having six kids with this knucklehead?

The thought of six little humans running around fills him with dread... but at the same time, everyone loves a family act. Matching threads for everyone, him in his best and you all dolled up like a work of art. Suits for the boys and little tutus for the girls.

Six little faces looking up at him in adoration, six little creatures to do his bidding, six little people guaranteed to worship the ground he walks on...

You snap your fingers in front of him. "Hey. Clown."

That's enough to bring him back to earth. He hopes to every god that will listen that it's just one in there. "Just distracted by your beauty," he says.

You give him a dry look. "Liar."

"Alright, ya got me. I was thinking about your tits." Buggy rests his chin in the crook of your neck. “How much longer?”

You reach up to pat his cheek. “Couple months.”

He groans. “But I wanna meet Buggy Junior noooow-wuh,” he whines.

Your smile vanishes. “Over my dead body you name my kid that.”

“Why not? It's a great name. Buggy Balthazar Zebulon Xerxes Mixolydian Macadamia--” You pinch his lips shut with your fingers, but he keeps talking. “--Jeremiah Jubilee--”

You turn and shove your tongue in his mouth again. He shuts up for good this time.

---

To the "Curious Courtship" Masterpost | To the Mastahpost | Tip Jar

#buggy the clown #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy the clown x reader #kiss marry kill #one piece x reader #one piece #one piece live action #fan fiction #one piece fanfiction #reader insert #x reader #emberly writes #smash or pass #the curious courtship of buggy the clown #dad buggy

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