#YOU HANDED THIS TO US AND I AM NOW SCAMPERING OFF WITH IT

[risingblackmoon]

I wanted to add more tags but I reached the LIMIT I DIDN'T KNOW THERE WAS A LIMIT BUT. BUT. GESTURES. HEY GUYS GO CHECK THIS OUT. PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE.

I am handing you this 30 second song I wrote and sang

[lologoinsolo]

Hello sunshine, i believe i was your first ask and having read the tags I love you more ♥️

I would like to make up for not actually having an ask with the suggestion of ‘lost kitten’.

Either Simon comes in panicking because Bailey has escaped, or Bailey has decided to adopt you and goes on a heist retracing Simon’s steps to the pet store. Maybe Simon walks in (looking for help) only to discover his cat safe in your arms (clearly also having a crush on you) or you have to find Simon to return her.

Ive just caught up on the two parts you’ve posted- amazing progress. Big love to you and Bailey x

I love this! Okay, this happens probably after Simon gets off his ass and talks to reader. I’m gonna put this under In Between Moments.

Cats and Their Men Masterlist

Days like any other, the store is busy though with the sales going around. You’ve been stuck on cashier duty the longest and you feel like your brain is leaking out your head. The constant “yes ma’am, no ma’am, yes sir, no sir, receipt? Do you want bags? Oh, your baby is precious, will that be cash or card?” Has become so normal with your work that sometimes you’ll have a nightmare that you’re back in store. At least you’re getting paid and you’ve been pulling doubles.

You managed to find enough time to talk a break, you get an hour since you’ve been working since 6 am… it’s nearly 4pm… your stomach growls loudly as you wave your manager goodbye and walk down the familiar streets. There’s a good sandwhich shop nearby but you’ve been craving potatoes. As you buy your well deserved meal and make your way back to your store you notice the bushes twitching.

You creep a little closer, there’s no way a persons in there. The bush is barely a foot tall but it’s prickly. You look at it, observing it when you see a familiar blue collar. You gasp, “oh my god!” You put your packaged potato down and get on your knees. “Bailey!” The kitten, not so kitten like now but still baby, perks up. Her ears flickering and she has a bug. In. Her. Mouth. “Bailey, spit that out!” You forgo the need for safety when you reach an arm in and grab her before she has a chance to scamper off. Your arms a little cut but you hold her close. “Oh you are in so much trouble,” fuming a little despite the fact that it’s not her fault she’s a curious kitty.

You grab your takeaway and haul yourself into the breakroom with a very unhappy meow from Bailey. You drop her in the breakroom along with your food and snag a salmon can for her. You’ll have to rip the plastic of your takeaway but it’ll be worth it. “Here you go,” popping the can and letting her smell it before you dump it on the plastic away from your warm potato meal.

You eat first, you’re sure her dad’s losing her mind but you are hungry as can be. Bailey seems to eat but comes over to you. “No, no,” you try to say but no use as she jumps on your shoulders. “Bailey,” you whine her name long and tiredly. She rubs her face against yours and you don’t have the heart to be mean. You eat your food in peace, surprisingly, and once done. You take your phone out and snap a photo. You finger through the tiny list of contacts you have and find him in there.

“Missing something?” You text with a photo of his girl sitting on your shoulder and the biggest, shit eating smile you can muster.

It’s read. Immediately. The tiny “…” forming as soon as it is read and he replies.

“Coming.”

You sit up a bit making Bailey shake as she tries to get used to the movement. You’re texting him that it’s okay for him to pick her up later. You’re sure he’s… working… right now. You don’t want to be a bother but he doesn’t reply or read any of your texts. You move your hand back and scratch under Bailey’s chin. “Should’ve called you trouble.” Grumbling as she starts purring and nudging more of her face against yours.

You slowly stand, he’s probably gonna be here in a matter of minutes. You’re still on break, thankfully, so you ease the breakroom door open and out you walk. Bailey’s nails dig into your shoulder and you have half a mind to pull her down but as you make your way to the front. In walks her daddy and he looks positively mad.

“I have her can of salmon.” You try to say as he barrels down your way. He must’ve come from the gym instead with that compression shirt of his. Goddamn, the size of his arms and his fitted shirt leaves little to the imagination of how strong he is. “She was chasing a bug in a bush.”

“Should’ve let her starve.” He says, rather harshly despite the fact that you know he’d never harm her like that. “Bailey.” There’s a command out his throat and you, unfortunately, stand a little taller. Bailey’s ears perk up and he steps close enough that you can smell his musk. She leaps from your shoulder to his and you’d take a picture of how adorable they look but he’s glaring too much.

“They’re curious creatures,” you try to say for her sake. “She probably got out when you left.”

He grunts and Bailey is rubbing to the best of her ability against his masked face. The familiar black that you hope he didn’t wear while working out. His hair looks more buzzed than you remember, maybe he shaved it a bit ago.

“She probably forced her way out of her car patio.” He mutters under his breath. “Stupid girl,” he finally pets her. “Won’t let you out till it’s fixed. You’re grounded.”

You can’t help but laugh a little, he sounds like a dad scolding a teen. Well.. Bailey’s probably a teen now. “I’m glad I found her first.”

“As am I,” he tilts his head down. A flex of his hand again when he looks at you. Your cheeks warm and you tuck your hair behind your ears.

“I uh…” you clearly your throat, “I gotta get back to work.” You step back from him and something flashes in those brown eyes of his. You’ve never been able to tell just what though. “See you,” you swallow a bit, “Simon.”

[wendichester]

⋆ ִֶָ ๋𓂃 home sweet home,

summary. daddy's home after a day at work

pairing. dean winchester x reader ; apple pie life au

wordcount. 481

The second Dean steps through the front door, he hears the rapid patter of tiny feet against the hardwood floor.

“Daddy!!”

Before he can even drop his duffel, a little body barrels into his legs, arms wrapping tight around his knees. Dean chuckles, bending down to scoop his daughter up into his arms.

“Hey, munchkin,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. She smells like baby shampoo and crayons, her tiny fingers fisting into his shirt like she never wants to let go. “Miss me?”

She nods enthusiastically, curls bouncing. “So much! Mommy’s making pie.” Her big green eyes shine up at him, pure excitement. “For you.”

Dean’s lips tug into a slow grin. “Yeah? What kind?”

“Puh-cawn!”

“Pecan?” he corrects, smirking.

She huffs. “That’s what I said!”

Dean laughs, ruffling her hair as he carries her into the kitchen. And that’s when he sees you—standing by the counter, sleeves rolled up, hands dusted in flour. There’s a pie dish sitting on the counter, golden crust crimped perfectly at the edges, the scent of caramelized sugar and toasted pecans filling the warm space.

His stomach growls on instinct.

“Y’know,” he drawls, stepping closer, “a guy could get used to coming home to this.”

You glance up, grinning as you wipe your hands on a dish towel. “You mean coming home to your daughter tackling you or to me making your favorite pie?”

Dean sets your daughter down, letting her scamper off toward the living room before slipping an arm around your waist, tugging you close. “Both,” he murmurs, pressing a slow kiss to your temple. “Definitely both.”

Your smile softens, fingers finding the grease stains on his jacket. “Long day?”

Dean exhales, resting his forehead against yours for a moment. “Yeah. Couple of stubborn transmissions, some asshole who didn’t know how to change his own oil. Business as usual.”

You hum, reaching up to brush a smudge of oil from his cheek. “Well, now you’re home.”

“Damn right, I am.”

Dean leans in, lips brushing over yours, slow and easy, like he’s tasting the very thing he’s been craving all day. When he finally pulls back, there’s warmth in his gaze, something deep and grateful.

You poke his chest playfully. “Now, go wash up. Dinner’s almost ready.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirks, but before he moves, he steals another quick kiss, grinning against your lips when you sigh into it.

His daughter peeks her head around the corner. “Daddy, are you kissing Mommy again?”

Dean winks at her. “Get used to it, sweetheart.”

She giggles, disappearing with a squeal when he playfully stomps toward her.

And as he heads toward the sink, rolling his sleeves up, listening to the quiet hum of home—his daughter’s laughter, the clatter of dishes, the smell of fresh-baked pie—Dean swears, for the first time in his life, he has everything he’s ever wanted.

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[banj0possum]

Bloody Red Roses

Yandere!Evil King x GN!Reader

CW: kidnapping, weirdo behavior, pretty mellow for now

👑 It was known throughout the land that King Alistair of the Obsidian Kingdom was a terrifying and cruel ruler. His heart held no mercy for those who opposed him.

👑 His dark magic was one to be feared, many know better than to ever go against him and his undead soldiers.

👑 Recently, he’s set his sights on your kingdom. He was planning on overthrowing a few lands and expanding his territory, and with your kingdom’s promising resources and location, he saw it as the perfect prize.

👑 But he isn’t a war mongering psychopath who declares war right then and there, no no he’s much more sophisticated than that, he’s going to kidnap the princess instead!

👑 He needed a bride anyway, so for him it’s a win/win!

👑 “Sir! We got her! We got the princess!” The door opening and the rattling of bones got Alistair’s attention. He sent a few of his skeleton soldiers to capture the princess whilst on a carriage ride through the borders of his territory.

👑 There were many guards protecting the area, but their weapons were no match for enemies who couldn’t die, and with a little bit of sleeping potion, carrying the princess away will be easy as pie.

👑 “Excellent~ and you brought her to my chambers like I told you correct?”

👑 They nod and scamper alongside the king to meet the princess

👑 “Oh princess~ are you awake ye- !!” His eyes widen and he cuts himself off. The person unconscious and tied up in his bed was indeed a royal, but the princess they were not.

👑 “What. Is. This?” He growls, the soldier’s bones rattle in fear

👑 “W-well you sai-“ “Does this look like a princess to you?! How am I going to take over their stupid kingdom if don’t have a bride!?” He scowls angrily.

👑 He hears you tossing and turning in your sleep, you let out a soft little squeak as you reposition yourself to be hugging one of his pillows.

👑 “…”

👑 “Uhm…your highness..?”

👑 “Leave. I’m done with your stupidity..I’ll deal with them myself..”

👑 The soldiers waste no time running off to who knows where as Alistair looks at you with cold eyes.

👑 “Hm…”

👑 He takes a seat by the bed, watching you as he figures out what to do with you.

👑 He’s trying to figure out a strategy, but he keeps getting distracted by your form. You looked so small and delicate, maybe he could…no that’s stupid he could never..could he?

👑 His thoughts plague him a awhile longer until he notices you waking up.

👑 Your muscles are weak, your head feels like it’s spinning, and it takes a bit for you to get back to your senses and realize what happened.

👑 You jolt awake, remember of the attack and almost scream at the sight of Alistair, but he was quick to covers your mouth and try to ease your panic. It took a while, but he managed to get you to stop fussing so he could take off your binds.

👑 “Apologies for this little..incident, I was supposed to take your sister..but now that you know my plan for your little kingdom, I have no choice but to keep you here. Perhaps I don’t need a princess to marry after all, I could just use you as ransom..” he chuckles.

👑 He sees the tea in your cup rippling in your shakes hold and scoffs, bringing his hand to hold your wrist to still your trembling “Oh don’t be so scared now, I don’t bite..”

👑 It was just supposed to be a means to make you stop shaking, but your skin…your big pitiful eyes staring up at him..he didn’t want to let go.

👑 So he kept you, for ransom of course, not for anything else..

👑 With you at his disposal, he started preparing negotiations with your kingdom to see what they’ll do to get you back.

👑 But in the mean time, he had to deal with you somehow..

👑 He settled on just letting you wander around the castle (with supervision of course)

👑 But then he starts to wonder what you do everyday, what did you even like to do? If you were staying with him, he might as well talk with you for the time being.

👑 It started off sort of awkward, he spotted you by the garden feeding some birds with two soldiers watching you. He approached and waved at the soldiers to leave them alone together. You thought you were in trouble but to your surprise, he just asked you how you were doing..

👑 “I uhm..heard you like going out here everyday..I figured I’d join you…Don’t take it the wrong way, I just had some..free time..that’s all..”

👑 The whole interaction was unusual. It wasn’t like him to be so casual and calm with someone, especially a royal of another kingdom.

👑 He enjoys the reactions you give him whenever he talks about his role as the dark king of the Obsidian Kingdom. Your nervous but polite smile masks your mortification of him, but it’s adorable to him nonetheless

👑 “What? A scared of the big bad king? How cute.”

👑 Your little talks slowly became frequent, for the king, it even became something he couldn’t help but do. What can he say? He was so used to your presence it seemed wrong to not talk to you at least once..plus he had to check to see if you weren’t planning an escape so..

👑 “Where have you been my little rose? I haven’t seen you all day.”

👑 His interest in your interactions turned to fondness the more he picked up on your cute little quirks. He takes note of the things you find funny or interesting, he brings them up in order to see that adorable little smile of yours, and that giggle, oh god that giggle…

👑 He denies it so much at first, but slowly starts to accept the fact that he wants- no, needs you with him

👑 Soon he started to want your presence even more, offering to eat meals alongside you instead of eating whenever he’s schedule allowed it, he started eating scheduled meals for you <3 we love self care guys

👑 “Of course I’m eating with you tonight. After all we never got to finish our conversation.”

👑 He loves watching you, even when simply eating or any mundane thing, you will more often than not catch him staring at you. You’re just so cute and soft! Definitely not like the snobby and overly stiff men and women he’s seen.

👑 He couldn’t have you trying to escape so what better plan than to keep you by his side 24/7? Then you’ll never be out of his sight!

👑 “What’s so wrong with letting you tag along my dear? I’m sure you’ll enjoy yourself with me.”

👑 And what if you try and sneak out from your chambers? Clearly you need to be moved to his chambers, that way he can make sure you’re behaving.

👑 Oh and of course in case you get lost, he made you a cute collar with the royal insignia on it! Isn’t it pretty? He used your favorite colors and everything!

👑 Of course he needs to fulfill his kingly duties. But how can he leave you alone for that long? No worries, you can sit right on his lap! That way you won’t have to stand for a long time and hurt your feet.

👑 And those clothes? So simple and out of style, perhaps you should wear something more fitting to his kingdom’s styles? Like a cute outfit with lace and ruffles! You look so delicate and graceful in it! He can’t help but buy you lots more outfits like that! Tis only fair for a person of your status.

👑 “How about this one? It compliments your form…what do you mean it looks too cutesy? I think it looks perfect for you.”

👑 he’s the type to not do much physical affection, but dear god does he crave both giving and receiving it. Give him a kiss or a caress of his cheek and he struggles to keep his composure and not melt to your touch

👑 Simply put, he might not seem like it (at least he thinks he does) but he can’t live without you. He couldn’t fathom the fact he was planning on trading you for a kingdom, you’re way more valuable than some puny kingdom!

👑 He even considers his original plan, you wouldn’t mind right? Besides, he bets you look absolutely exquisite in a little wedding dress~! Even if you don’t want a dress, an elegant suit would perfect on you~!

👑 “Where do you think you’re going my rose?”

It’s finally here guys ✨✨✨ I know it’s been a while but I’ve been busy with school and genshin. Anyway we got em in the end! Thank you for being so patient guys !! qwq

[novaursa]

Web of Gold (aegon in love)

- Summary: Alicent could only watch as you handle her son like a lioness who plays with her food.

- Pairing: lannister!reader/Aegon II Targaryen

- Rating: Mild 13+

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: aegon has a cold

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne @oxymakestheworldgoround

Alicent Hightower stands at the entrance of your solar, her brow furrowed, a determined gleam in her eyes. You can see her reflection in the mirror before you as you sit, surrounded by your ladies-in-waiting, a soft murmur of conversation filling the room. They are laughing at something you said, oblivious to the instant change that thickens as Alicent steps further inside.

The room quiets. Your ladies glance nervously at each other, sensing the charged air, but you remain poised, turning your head only slightly, as though the Queen Mother's arrival is of little concern.

"Your Grace," you greet her warmly, but there’s an undercurrent of something sharper beneath your voice. "How lovely of you to visit." You flash a charming smile, but the glint in your eyes betrays your amusement. Alicent’s sudden need to speak with you is, of course, no coincidence.

"Leave us," Alicent says to your ladies, her tone stern but not harsh. They all rise quickly, dropping curtsies before scampering out of the room, not wishing to be caught in whatever this confrontation might become.

You rise slowly, smoothing your gown, a rich crimson with golden embroidery that glistens in the candlelight, making you look every bit the queen you aspire to be. "To what do I owe this pleasure, Your Grace?" you ask, maintaining your sweet tone, though the question drips with false innocence.

Alicent steps closer, her lips pressed thin. She’s trying to appear calm, but you can sense the desperation simmering beneath her composure. "I wanted to speak with you," she begins, her voice softer than it was with your ladies, the sort of voice she uses when trying to remind others of her maternal presence. "About Aegon."

"Of course," you reply, as if it’s the most natural topic in the world. "I was just speaking of him with my ladies. His strength and wisdom are unparalleled, don’t you think?" You watch the flicker of annoyance cross her face, savoring the way her attempt to steer the conversation in her favor is already faltering.

Alicent shifts, clasping her hands in front of her, trying to appear serene. "Y/N, I understand that Aegon values your… opinions. And I do not wish to interfere. But…" She hesitates, searching for the right words, something that will make you listen to her. "He is still young, and he needs guidance. Proper guidance. From those who truly have his best interests at heart."

You raise an eyebrow, the smile never leaving your lips. "Proper guidance?" you echo, as though you are truly considering the meaning of her words. "But who could possibly care more for Aegon’s best interests than his own wife-to-be?" Your voice is light, playful, but the implication is clear. I am the one at his side now. Not you.

Alicent’s mouth tightens. "As his mother, I’ve always sought what is best for him. I’ve been by his side since he was born. I raised him. No one knows Aegon as I do."

You tilt your head slightly, stepping closer so that your presence looms just a bit. "Oh, I don’t doubt that, Your Grace. You have been a wonderful mother to him, no one would dare dispute that." You pause, letting the praise sink in, then adding with a soft, calculated edge, "But he’s no longer a boy, is he? Aegon is a king now, and kings must make their own decisions, form their own judgments." You take a step back, shrugging slightly. "It’s what all rulers must do."

Alicent stiffens, the tension rolling off her in waves. You see her jaw clench as she speaks, trying to keep her voice steady. "And what decisions has he made under your… influence?"

You laugh lightly, almost as though she’s told a joke. "Influence? Your Grace, I only seek to support Aegon. To give him the love and devotion he so richly deserves." You look at her knowingly, your eyes flicking up to meet hers. "A man like Aegon needs to feel appreciated, cherished for all he does."

Alicent's expression tightens further, but you can see the cracks forming. She knows what you're doing, yet she can’t stop you. "Y/N, you must understand, this is not about appreciation. This is about responsibility. You cannot simply—"

You cut her off with a gentle smile, stepping toward her with the grace of a predator that knows its prey is cornered. "Alicent," you say softly, dropping the formalities. "You needn't worry. I’m not here to replace you. You’ll always be his mother." The way you say it feels like a reassurance that holds no real comfort. "But I think we both know Aegon is happiest when he is free to act without feeling… pressured." Your eyes flicker with amusement. "And he seems so at ease with me, wouldn't you agree?"

Alicent looks like she’s about to snap, her eyes burning with frustration, but she holds herself back, her voice now low, tight with warning. "You don’t understand what it means to be close to power like this. It is not about flattery and affection. It is about duty, about making the hard decisions, even when they are painful."

You place a hand on your chest, pretending to be wounded. "Oh, Alicent, I understand more than you think. It’s just that I approach things… differently." You let your hand fall, turning toward the window to look out over the courtyard, where Aegon can be seen laughing with a group of knights. "Aegon deserves to be happy, doesn’t he? And I make him happy." You glance back at her, your smile serene. "Isn’t that what matters?"

For a moment, Alicent just stares at you, her hands clenched so tightly you think her knuckles might turn white. But she says nothing. She can’t. Because as much as she might want to fight you on this, she knows you’re right in one regard—Aegon is happy with you. And that happiness is what keeps her from lashing out, from saying what she truly wants to say.

Finally, Alicent exhales sharply, turning on her heel. "Enjoy your day," she says stiffly before sweeping from the room, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

The moment she’s gone, you let out a small, satisfied sigh, turning back to the mirror. Your reflection smiles back at you, victorious. Alicent may have been the one to raise Aegon, but now? Now he is yours.

The courtyard of the Red Keep bustles with life, knights sparring and squires scurrying about, tending to their duties. Aegon stands in the middle of it all, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he watches the knights with a bemused grin, half-interested, half-distracted. A goblet of wine is clutched lazily in one hand, because of course he’s found a way to turn a casual morning stroll into an excuse for drinking.

"Did you see that, Ser Criston?" Aegon calls out, watching as two knights clash swords with a loud clang. "Not bad, but no match for me." He laughs, though he’s never been particularly interested in actual swordplay. He much prefers the idea of being a great fighter, especially when the wine is flowing.

Ser Criston Cole offers a tight-lipped smile, as he always does when Aegon starts boasting about things everyone knows aren’t true. "Indeed, Your Grace," he says, ever the dutiful Kingsguard, though even his patience is wearing thin.

Aegon takes another sip of wine, glancing toward the entrance to the courtyard just in time to see his younger brother, Aemond, striding purposefully toward him. Aemond, with his ever-straight posture and single piercing eye, always looks like he’s about to declare war on someone. Today is no different. He approaches with his usual air of superiority, his long coat billowing behind him as though he’s a dark storm about to sweep through.

"Aemond!" Aegon calls out cheerfully, raising his goblet in greeting. "You’ve arrived just in time. I was telling the knights here about how truly lucky I am." He lowers his voice conspiratorially, a grin spreading across his face. "To have Y/N as my future wife."

Aemond’s expression doesn’t change. He stops in front of Aegon, his eye narrowing slightly as if he’s trying to determine how much wine his brother has already consumed this morning. "Lucky, you say?" His tone is dry, unimpressed.

Aegon chuckles, seemingly oblivious to the fact that Aemond isn’t remotely interested in this conversation. "Oh, absolutely. She’s the most beautiful woman in the realm, wouldn’t you agree?" He claps a hand on Aemond’s shoulder, completely missing the way his younger brother stiffens. "And clever too. The way she speaks to me—like no one else ever has. It’s like she knows me better than I know myself." He sighs, lost in the fantasy of it all. "Aegon the Conqueror himself would be jealous, I swear."

Aemond blinks slowly, as if processing the absurdity of what he’s just heard. "Yes, I’m sure the original Aegon would be incredibly envious of your arrangement," he replies, his voice laced with sarcasm. His gaze flickers toward Ser Criston, who wisely keeps his face neutral, though one can see the amusement dancing in his eyes.

But Aegon is far too enamored to notice any of it. "Oh, Aemond, you just don’t understand. Y/N… she’s perfect. Beautiful, charming, sweet… and she’s so attentive to me." He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a dramatic whisper. "She calls me her king. All the time. Every morning, every night… my king." His eyes sparkle with pride as if this is the pinnacle of all achievements.

Aemond’s eye twitches, just the tiniest bit, though his expression remains otherwise unreadable. "I’m sure she does," he mutters, clearly unimpressed by the idea of his brother being doted upon like some pampered pet. "How fortunate for you."

Aegon nods enthusiastically, taking another sip of wine, his cheeks flushed with both alcohol and excitement. "It’s like she worships me," he says, completely missing the biting edge to Aemond’s tone. "I swear, no woman has ever made me feel this way before. I can’t wait for the wedding. She’ll be my queen soon enough."

Aemond crosses his arms, clearly struggling to maintain his composure. "Your queen," he repeats flatly, though the way he says it makes it sound more like a burden than a blessing. "And what exactly will she bring to this… royal arrangement of yours? Other than your own inflated ego?"

Aegon, completely unbothered by the jab, shrugs. "Love, devotion, all that. She just gets me, you know? It’s as if she was made for me. And gods, the way she speaks to me… she’s so… warm." He sighs contentedly, swirling the wine in his goblet. "Unlike some other women around here." He glances sideways, clearly referencing their mother, though he’s too drunk to bother hiding it.

Aemond’s lips thin into a line. "She manipulates you, brother," he says sharply, his patience wearing thin. "Or are you too blind to see that?"

Aegon blinks at him, confused, then bursts into laughter. "Manipulates me? Nonsense! She adores me. Why would she ever want to manipulate me when she can just… you know… bask in my presence?" He gestures to himself with a flourish, as if he’s presenting a grand prize.

Aemond pinches the bridge of his nose, visibly frustrated. "You are hopeless," he mutters under his breath.

But Aegon, ever oblivious, just grins at him. "Hopelessly in love, more like." He sways slightly, his eyes glazed over with more than just affection. "Ah, Y/N… my beautiful lioness…"

Aemond looks at him with something resembling pity, then shakes his head, clearly done with this conversation. "Just… try not to embarrass yourself at court later," he says before turning on his heel and walking away, the stiff set of his shoulders making it clear he’s already resigned to Aegon doing exactly that.

Aegon watches him go, then glances at Ser Criston, still grinning like a lovesick fool. "He’s just jealous, isn’t he?" he says, winking. "Who wouldn’t be, with a woman like mine?"

Ser Criston gives him a measured nod, his expression betraying nothing. "Of course, Your Grace."

And with that, Aegon takes another swig of wine, looking entirely too pleased with himself.

[witchthewriter]

𝑷𝑨𝑹𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑹𝑬𝑬 𝐌𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬: 𝐴𝑛𝑛𝑜𝑦𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝐴𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛

⤷ gender neutral, ambiguous race, and any size reader. Requests are open, thank you for reading!

Also this is 18+

ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ | ᴹᵃˢᵗᵉʳˡᶤˢᵗ ᴵᴵ

𝑽𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・“Darling…” He sighs lightly, fingers over the bridge of his nose. "Must you have your human zoomies in here. There is a whole castle and I am trying to do work."

・Pouting, you scamper over to his desk and climb upon it.

"It has been at least a year since you've kissed me."

"I kissed you three minutes ago."

"How would you know."

"I have a clock on the wall."

・Sighing, you climb off the desk and peer over his shoulder. His work looks like the most boring thing on earth to you.

・Then that restless feeling takes over once more.

・With gusto, you announce: "I MUST be ravished or else I'll DIE."

"Well, we mustn't have that," he says in a voice that leaves your thighs wobbling.

・As he turns around, you look him in the eye and grin.

・He knows that grin.

"But I must be chased first."

・You turn and run.

As you leave the room he mutters, "You test my patience like no mortal ever has."

・And yet, he still follows after you. Indulging you by not using his vampire speed.

𝑾𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒘𝒐𝒍𝒇 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Usually, you're quite well-behaved in meetings, but today you just needed ...attention. Well, more attention, than usual.

・And it did not help that Winter was starting again...and your warm boyfriend was much too involved in the meeting.

・Right now, all you want is to crawl into his lap and be lavished upon with kisses...and praise.

・Sighing, you place your cold hands underneath his shirt and rest them on his back.

・Immediately he growls under his breath, low and rumbly. “Pest.”

・But doesn't remove your hands, only shifts closer to you, but to your dismay, he is still engrossed in the meeting.

・To be fair, you had been trying to annoy him... a bite here, a nudge there - you even unlaced his boots with your toes. But he endured it all. With a small smirk on his face.

・But your next action brought him to the brink.

・Letting out a little whine, you move your legs so they're resting over his massive thigh. Instinctively he wraps his large hands over your legs.

Wrapping your arms around his muscular one, you whisper: "I'm bored, can we leave now. Please."

・Since you had worked him up for the last hour, all he can do is nod.

・Without a word, he scoops you up, and as your leaving, whispers in your ear: "you do know you're gonna pay for this at home? My pretty pest."

𝑶𝒓𝒄 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Completely and utterly focused on sharpening his blade, you've called his name again and again.

・Yet all you get in response is a grunt.

・So, with every right...you go over and give a little tug on his tusks.

・He growls, low and gutteral, a warning. But does not stop you.

・Nor does he stop sharpening.

・You groan.

"When will this torture end," you whisper.

・Your boyfriend frowns.

"There is no torture?"

"You aren't paying attention to me!"

"I am busy."

"Then be busy with me."

"You do not care for sharpening blades?" He knows you too well.

"Obviously. I meant ... with ... me ... so put the blade down!"

・He looks at you and squints. Confused.

"Oh my god, I want you to kiss me."

"Then why not say that at the beginning?"

・You squint back at him, take the blade from his hands, put it aside and straddle his lap.

"I guess I will kiss you now," he says with a smile, and all you can do is huff.

𝑫𝒓𝒂𝒈𝒐𝒏-𝑯𝒚𝒃𝒓𝒊𝒅 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Perched somewhere stupidly high and dramatic. You’re tossing pebbles at his tail from below.

“Come down, you dramatic lizard!”

・Frowning he looks down at you.

"I am watching the perimeter!"

"No! Come down and watch me instead!"

・With hands on your hips, you quirk your head to one side.

・With a huff, and the knowledge that you would throw pebbles at him for hours on end, he decides to come down.

・As he lands, he looks at you.

"Lizards cannot fly. I can fly. Therefore, I am no lizard."

"Would it make you feel better if I said you were a sexy lizard?"

"A little - No, no it would not. Do not call me that again."

"Okay..." you reply in your most sultry voice.

・In one swift motion, you move your hand towards his ass and smack!

・He yelps and looks at you.

"You need to be put on a leash."

・With a huff, you look at him with that look..."That's the plan-"

𝑫𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・Your boyfriend loves chaos. He loves annoying you. But somehow when it's your turn to do the annoying, he cannot endure it.

・For the past fifteen minutes you have been flicking his tail, pulling and pinching as he makes dinner for you both.

・Everytime you touch it, he swats you with the end of it.

・After the tenth swat to your face (you've been giggling the whole time), he looks at you and raises an eyebrow.

“Do you enjoy testing my patience?”

・You poke his tail once again. “Yes. Also, how do you control your tail?"

"My darling, it is another limb. Like any other."

・You nod and stand up.

"What about these?"

・You stand on your tippy toes and rub his horns.

・He stills and looks at you, although not pulling away.

"I'm in love with a menace," he whispers, looking down at you.

"Gods, finally you look at me!"

"Excuse me?"

"It has taken you forever, to have your full attention."

"All of this was for-"

・He looks at you and grins.

"My dear, you are going to regret saying that..."

𝑨𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・One of your favourite things about your boyfriend is his sensitive wings ...

・A single finger brushing against his white feathers is like someone trailing their finger over your nipple.

・It's why he doesn't like to be around people with his wings out. The wrong touch makes him clam up.

・But when it's just the two of you...well...things are entirely different.

"Beloved, must you - ah!"

・He had only been staring out of the window, watching the sunset. But you wanted his attention on you.

"Ohh...does that tickle?"

"You know it does," he replies with a frown.

"I really shouldn't do it again," you said with fake self-discipline.

・Your boyfriend did not register the tone in your voice until it was too late.

・You did the same action again, only on the other wing.

"Oh!" He said with a jump.

・The look on his face made you feel a little guilty...but only a little.

"What is the matter with you?" He turns around, hands on his hips.

"I'm bored," you say with a sly smile.

・In a swift movement, he walks forward, lifts you from the floor and carries you to the bedroom.

"My love, you are going to regret those words."

𝑺𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒏 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・You hum off-key, while your boyfriend sings his melody.

・And gods do you know how much he hates that.

・As if on queue, he groans, flopping dramatically on the couch. “You’re ruining the harmony.”

・You scoff, throwing a pillow at him.

"You've actually said in the past that my voice is angelic."

"When did I say that?"

"You're kidding right? People have said I sound better ... than you."

・His eyes open with pure shock.

"Who said that."

・Nose flaring, arms crossing, he stares at you like his whole world has been a lie.

"A fisherman."

"..."

・Fighting to keep a straight face, you nod. About to continue when your boyfriend loses it.

"I am a siREN! I WAS BORN WITH THE SIREN'S SONG. MY VOICE HAS KILLED MEN FOR CENTURIES-"

・You start laughing but he does not stop.

"- I WAS MADE FOR THIS. I AM LITERALLY KNOWN FOR HAVING ONE OF THE BEST VOICES. EVEN IN MY POD. THEY SAID I HAD THE BEST VOICE-"

・Tears in your eyes, you snort and continue laughing. With a wheeze, you come clean, "I was joking-"

"Joking?"

"I was messing with you!"

"Ah."

𝑬𝒍𝒇 𝑩𝒐𝒚𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅

・He has so much patience.

・Especially for you.

・Your boyfriend is completely loving. He treasures your time together. Loves every second he's with you ...

・But his hair ... he doesn't like it messed with.

・And yet, for the past twenty minutes you have been braiding random sections of his perfect hair while he reads.

・His once long, perfectly brushed hair is now being plaited into hundreds of strands.

・You said to yourself, you'd stop as soon as he puts the book down. But an hour has gone by and his head is nearly complete.

“You are utterly insufferable,” he murmurs...though without moving away.

・With mischief in your eyes, you give him a sweet smile, "I just wanted your attention."

"If you wanted my attention, my love, you could have just asked."

"I do not like asking."

"I see that."

・His arms wrap around you in one quick motion, and hoist you into his lap.

・Smothering you with kisses.

・You laugh as the braids fall over your face.

・You cannot wait until he undoes them and is left with frizzy waves.

[giuseppe-yuki]

naps

lando norris x ferret shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 2.2k

warnings: none :)

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: lando's late night streaming causes you to be real tired the next day...

picture credits from pinterest :)

it was currently three freaking AM in your monaco apartment, but your boyfriend was not where he was supposed to be. instead of being curled up next to you in your ridiculously big bed buried under at least five layers of blankets with the ac blasting, he was in his streaming room yelling about “cream coming out of his chick” to angryginge (you supposed he was playing fortnite, and not some other weird game). for the second time in the last five minutes, his voice echoes across the spacious apartment. 

“YOU TWAT, GET OUT MY WAY!” 

it wouldn’t be surprising if you woke up in the morning with noise complaints from the neighbors, a sleep deprived lando, and a telling-off by your boyfriend’s pr manager for showing up to media day halfway-asleep. you were super tired as well, but lando seemed to unknowingly choose the second that your eyes fluttered shut to yell at the top of his lungs. rubbing your eyes, you get up from the bed, slide on your slippers, and shove your phone into your pj shorts’ built in pocket. 

as you shuffle closer to lando’s streaming room, his voice gets impossibly louder. 

“HE���S OVER THERE!! THAT WAY!!”

you think you can hear angryginge’s voice through the door from lando’s gaming headphones, which are probably turned up way too loud. 

“WHERE??? WHERE IS THERE MATE??” 

you roll your eyes, and get ready to turn the doorknob to storm into the room, but decide at the last second that it’s probably not a good idea. the creased pjs from rolling around the bed while waiting for lando to end stream plus your worn-out slippers probably made you look like a mess. thinking, you come up with a quick solution. you could crawl into the room in your ferret form- it was probably easier to enter the room without being spotted by fans on the stream and you also get extra cuteness points that would help you convince lando to come to bed. 

you crack open the lando’s streaming door for easier access and place your phone on the ground to avoid getting squished (you knew that from experiences after being squashed one too many times by your phone). after shifting into your ferret form, you slip through the crack in the door and scamper towards lando. 

the screen in front of him acts like the only light source in the room, aside from the led sign on his wall. it casts a glowy halo of light on him in the darkness of the room that makes him look ethereal. you stop in your tracks for just a moment to admire him, except the moment is immediately ruined when a shrill scream erupts from his mouth- this time cursing an opponent for killing him. it was a wonder that your eardrums hadn’t exploded yet. 

you climb up his chair and plop yourself in his lap, glaring at him with your tiny round eyes. 

noticing your presence on his lap, his eyes widen. he immediately whispers a hurried “one moment!” to ginge and his stream, and turns off his camera and microphone. 

“baby! are you okay? what’s wrong?” he asks, using one hand to stroke your fur.

the calm voice that lando was talking to you now was vastly different from the wild, screaming side of him that he showed his twitch chat. you reach your paws outward, as if beckoning for a hug. he complies, softly squeezing you into his chest and smothering you in his quadrant hoodie that just smelled like him. after years of dating him, you still got giggly after he gave you the best hugs ever. it makes you feel so content that you almost forget your mission of dragging him back to bed. quickly, you jump off of his lap and land with your four feet on the ground. lando turns his gaming chair towards you, this time to find you standing there, still in your wrinkled pjs, with a frown on your face. 

“lando,” you say slowly, “you promised you would go to bed soon! i waited at least two hours in bed! not only that, you were yelling so loud, i bet even charles could hear you from two blocks down! besides, you do have media day tomorrow, and we all know your pr manager is going to be pissed if you show up with no energy like last time!”

glancing at the clock, he realized that you were right. it was pretty late. 

he runs his hand through his rowdy curls, and flashes you an apologetic smile. “i’m sorry, i genuinely forgot about the time,” he explains. “let me shut down everything really quick.”

under your watchful eye, he apologizes for the sudden end to stream, says bye to ginge, and shuts down his pc and and monitors. you’re still frowning when he finally turns back towards you. 

“come on baby, i said i was sorry!” he exclaims, pouting. then, a grin flashes across his face. “why don’t i carry you back to bed?” 

to that, you finally crack a smile. 

once he carries your squealing body back into the bedroom, you find yourself again alone on your bed waiting for lando. he was probably washing his face and brushing his teeth, judging from the sound of running water. you pull out your phone to find to find a text from lance stroll’s girlfriend, a good friend that you made when you attended one of your first races back then as lando’s partner. 

hey, what r u doing up? i saw your online bubble on tiktok like two seconds ago, lmao! u do know we have media day tomorrow right?

you quickly text back a response, 

i was gonna go to bed early but lando was streaming and forgot about the time.. you know i can’t sleep when he's yelling at the top of his lungs. anyways, what are you doing up at this godforsaken hour???

you adjust the blankets around you, and listen as lando hums a tune from inside the bathroom. when you check your phone, you see that she has already texted you back. 

yeah girl, i get you. lance always starts raging at his monitor when he plays his video games 🙄 no but i was up because my bf was literally online shopping till like five minutes ago! like, what are you buying that is so important it needs to be bought now?? its almost four am, istg we are going to be so sleepy in the paddock tomorrow!

the sound of lando shutting the door of the bathroom makes you hurry to type back a response.

omg, maybe he’s buying you that limited edition birkin you told me you were eyeing a couple of days ago! but yeah, we should get to bed. goodnight!

after hitting send, you shut off your phone and throw it onto the nightstand just as lando climbs into bed, now dressed in a worn-in tee that looks like its seen better days and comfy pj pants. He turns off the light using the switch next to him, and places a kiss on your forehead. “goodnight!” he whispers quietly into your ear. you turn around and hold him close to you, burying your head into his chest yet again. “goodnight,” you whisper back. 

if you closed your eyes for more than two seconds, you felt like you were going to fall asleep. the sun shined brightly in the monaco paddock, but it just felt like it was hurting your eyeballs on purpose as it pierced through your shaded sunglasses perched on the bridge of your nose. honestly, you didn’t know how lando did it. he looked energized and ready to go with his freshly moussed curls and bright smile, not a hint of tiredness on his face. it seemed you looked as tired as you felt, because as you walked through the paddock, not only did max offer you a redbull, but charles also tried giving you a celsius, much to the dismay of lando (he not-so-gently slapped the drinks out of their hands, as mclaren was sponsored by monster, and he did not want to cause a pr disaster). 

you stumble into the mclaren hospitality five minutes later, clutching to lando’s arm for dear life. laughing, he starts dragging you to his driver’s room, which had a comfy sofa that you could probably nap for a bit on. 

before he could get too far, oscar passes by, casting a few concerning glances at your exhausted figure shuffling behind lando. 

“err, is your girlfriend alright, mate?” he shoots at lando, eyebrows scrunched in confusion.

you answer for your boyfriend. “yeah, yeah, i’m fine, thanks for asking. it’s just that lando was streaming until like, three am last night, and so i didn’t get a wink of sleep before having to wake up and get ready!” 

oscar’s face morphs into one of amusement. “lando! how could you do that to her?” he gasps dramatically in a joking manner. he then flashes you a smile. “i’m just making sure you’re all good. honestly, if you didn’t tell me that lando was streaming though, i would have assumed it was because you guys were getting  𝓯𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝔂 last night or something.”

both you and lando’s mouths drop open. “oscar!” you exclaim, as lando throws a nearby empty cup at oscar’s head. 

oscar expertly dodges the cup and cackles and he runs away. 

lando quickly guides you to his drives room, and makes sure to get you a can of monster, which you crack open and take a sip of before promptly passing out cold on the couch. 

you open your eyes an hour and a half later, to lando softly shaking you. 

“yes?” you say, rubbing your sleepy eyes. 

“so, my pr manager wants me to head out now for the pr videos and interviews. i just wanted to let you know,” he explains.

you grab you bag and stand up quickly, intending to follow lando out the door. you didn’t come all the way to the paddock to sleep in lando’s drivers room- you were here to support your boyfriend, even if he was just recording boring videos for the team youtube channel or talking to a reporter about past race results. 

“what are you doing?” lando says, brows scrunching. “i thought you were tired? you don’t have to go with me to media day?” 

“no, i want to be out there to support you,” you counter, “besides, i can sleep later.” you let out a big yawn that kind of destroys your argument. 

lando laughs, seeing you yawn. “i can tell you are still sleepy…continue your nap, it’s okay! there will always be another media day you can come support me at!”

adamant, you shake your head. “no, i’d really like to come with you.”

your boyfriend thinks for a second, blinking his aquamarine eyes at you. “why dont…you shift into your ferret form and sleep in my hoodie? that way you can still take your nap and be there supporting me- but more like emotional support.” 

you nod once. “deal!”

that’s how you find yourself buried inside lando’s quadrant hoodie pocket as he walks through the paddock. you feel each jostle of his body as he walks through the paddock. his fingers toy with your fur mindlessly. you smell the comforting scent of his cologne mixed with the slight scent of burnt rubber and oil of the circut. you surprising stay awake as he babbles on to a reporter about the updates on the car over the weekend or when he is quizzed on his top three favorite foods with oscar. it’s only when he sits down and is forced to sign a hundred fan merch when you finally fall into beauty sleep.

“OMG OSCAR???” screams lando, jolting you from deep sleep and almost deafening you. why is that lando always manages to disrupt your sleep because of his screaming problem?

you hear lando’s voice above you again. “oscar, i genuinely think i lost my girlfriend! i don’t know where she is! i checked my driver’s room and literally the entire paddock, but i can’t find her!” he says, worriedly.

is this guy serious? you think, bewildered. how can he possibly drive one of the fastest cars in the world but not remember that he put his own girlfriend in his pocket before media and pr? you think its probably because the lack of sleep was catching up to him. 

you are jostled around more forcefully in his pocket as he starts what you think is sprinting around the paddock. 

you hear oscar next to your boyfriend, running next to him. “well, i have no idea where she is either?? the last time i remember seeing her was in the motorhome where you were dragging her to your driver’s room?” 

hearing this, lando skids to a stop. “OMG WAIT?!” he shouts. you feel his hand reach into his hoodie pocket next to you. 

before his hand can touch you though, you stick your head out of the pocket and lando, who has relief written all over his face. you snap your teeth towards lando’s outstretched fingers that were starting to reach for you. 

oscar shoots an exasperated look at lando. “mate, you had me sprinting around the whole paddock. no way you forgot your freaking girlfriend was literally in your pocket.”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary

@mbappebby @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks @madkohi

[recareels]

⋆₊˚⊹♡ wriothesley + putting you back in your place (before you can even fully slip out of it!)

character: wriothesley warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, reader is a Brat, daddy kink, pet names, fem reader, dry humping, talks of spanking, use of the term sir words: 1.6k

wriothesley will never give into your bratting. just like you’ll never stop testing his patience.

The chattering of your teeth echoes throughout his office—soft, dainty, incessant, a soft hum vibrating on the back of Wriothesley’s tongue in question. Glancing up, Wriothesley’s gaze finds your shivering form easily, huddled into a small lump on his office couch, buried beneath the fluffiest blanket he has. 

“Whassa matter? You cold?” 

Features scrunched in a pout, you raise your head a little, glaring at him. “It’s freezing in here.” 

“Yeah, but you’re always freezing,” he clicks his tongue, as if he can’t trust your judgement, but there’s a small smile on his face, his eyes softening as he stares at you. 

“So?”

“So, you are not apt to complete such an evaluation. Here,” he shoves away from his desk, wooden legs of his chair scraping against metal. “Why don’t you come sit on Daddy’s lap, hm? He’ll keep you warm while he works.” 

And just like that, you’re tossing the blanket off—a quickly abandoned heap of fluff on the couch cushion—and scampering towards him, eager to climb onto his thighs, to submerge yourself in his everlasting heat, to garner a shard of his strained, stretched-thin attention. 

He’s chuckling as he rearranges you, large hands helping you into a more comfortable position—face buried in his broad chest, body pressed flush to his own, legs straddling his hips, the bones pressing into plush flesh as your thighs flex around him twice, a feeble attempt to pull yourself even closer to him.

“Not bringing the blanket with you?” 

“Nuh-uh,” you shake your head against his sternum, nuzzling into him. “Don’t need it. You’re warm enough.”

“Oh, am I, now?” he questions as he tucks himself back into his desk, one thick arm wrapped around your waist to keep you in place. “Are you sure this whole thing wasn’t just some ruse to wedge yourself between me and my work?” 

He’s joking, of course, can feel the cold tip of your nose pressing into the dip of his clavicle, can feel your icy fingers creeping their way up his shirt, burrowing into his muscled stomach and soaking up warmth.

“I would never, Daddy.” 

Now, that he doesn’t believe. 

“Mhmm, sure. And you’re going to behave while you’re on Daddy’s lap, right?” 

“‘Course I am.”

“No funny business?”

Nodding sleepily, you press a kiss over his heart, drooling out a promise. “Scouts honour.” 

And, for a moment, Wriothesley thinks you might actually co-operate—a rare but not impossible occurrence—might actually cuddle yourself against him, let his heat deliquesce your limbs and lull you comfortably into dreamland, just like he had expected half an hour ago, when he had decided it was time for a nap, and ordered such.

How utterly foolish. 

Because not even ten minutes into his resumed work—just shy, actually: nine minutes and thirty-two seconds, he’d been counting—and you’re starting to squirm, hips grinding into his as your shift, gyrate, then shift again, much too calculated to be a natural movement. 

“Baby,” he singsongs, pen tapping his paper twice. “I thought you said you were going to be good.”

“M’just tryna get comfy, that’s all,” you mumble into his skin, lips dragging along his protruding collarbone, leaving a steadily cooling streak of saliva.

“Misbehaving and lying? Wow, you’re really trying to earn yourself a punishment today.” 

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

“I’m not, I swear!”

“You know,” he begins conversationally, hands creeping beneath the hem of your dress, calluses grating against supple skin as his palms slide up your thighs, careful, calculated. “Daddy didn’t invite you onto his lap so your could wiggle around and make him hard.” 

His grip clasps around your hips hard, fingers tensing as he holds you in place, nails sinking into the flesh just above the waistband of your panties, latching onto you in tiny stinging bites.

“It’s distracting.” 

The words are spit through gritted teeth, chewed out between heavy molars, the defined hinges of his jaw clenching. 

“Feels good though, doesn’t it?” your hips roll twice in his grasp, slow and forceful, the head of his cock gliding over your swelling, throbbing clit.

It nearly slips between your folds, cunt perfectly outlined by the thin silk clinging to your creases, slick material making the slide easy, panties already drenched all the way through with your arousal. 

Another rock forward has his cockhead catching on your hole, and you swivel your hips in tight, fast circles, almost as if you’re attempting to suck him in through your scant clothing. 

You’re sure you’re making a mess all over his uniform, sure he can feel how disgustingly wet you are from just this alone—a mere bit of dry humping and his stern, strong voice, rumbling against your ribs; doesn’t take much, now, does it?—sticky desire staining the crotch of his pants in a large, irregular patch of dampness. 

“No,” he says sternly, the sheer authority in his voice making you mewl, thighs squeezing his hips again. “It doesn’t.” 

His cock twitches, contradicting his words, and he growls. 

His cock always gives him away. 

A giggle froths in your throat, just barely kept at bay, and he growls again.

You know it’s bad to be laughing, but you just can’t help it—here’s a man with impeccable self-discipline, meticulous, iron-clad control over his own body, and you still manage to make him feel like some horny little virgin, your pelvis rutting again, this time with a vengeance.

It’s a thrill, a rush, to know you have a potent affect on a powerful man, dense heat beginning to sprawl deep within the pit of your belly, empty cunt aching as it flutters against his hard cock—a gentle begging, another surge of wetness rushing to flood the apex of your thighs. 

Still, that doesn’t mean you’re in charge. 

“Move another inch and I swear to the Archons—”

“You’ll do what?” you breathe into his neck, the question hot and beading on his skin. 

“I’ll put you right back on that couch, in time out,” his fingers tighten to near bone-crushing, a cry cracking in your throat. “I mean it.”

Lips molding into a sulky frown, your rub your face into the curve of his shoulder.

“Not fair,” you grumble, the words low and whiny, hitching on the beginnings of a sob. “You’re a big meanie.”

A deep sigh weighs heavy on his chest, ribs decompressing as he exhales, his grip on your waist loosening just a touch.

“Look at me.”

Your head shakes, cheek nestling further into him, a stark refusal.

“Look at me,” Wriothesley repeats, his voice strict, firm, cold, The Duke seeping out past his Daddy facade. “I won’t ask again.”

The command sends a small jolt zipping through your blood, fierce dominance demanding instant attention, and finally, you obey, peeking up from the safety of his shoulder and wincing a little at the intensity of his stare.

“You know what happens to little girls who act like fucking brats,” he warns, ice blue searching your face slow and thorough. 

You do—of course you do. You’ve been in that position more times than you can count. 

They get treated like fucking brats. 

“They get treated like fucking brats,” he echoes your thoughts. “Keep acting like a disrespectful little girl and watch what happens.”

You already know what happens: no sweets, no letters to your friends or trips to the surface, no boardgames before bedtime. 

No fun. 

“But—But! Maybe riding you will help warm me up even more.” 

“You wanna know what else would warm you up even more? A spanking.”

The yelp that hitches in your throat, automatic and half-stifled, is gratifying, satisfaction tugging at a corners of Wriothesley’s lips, edges curling slightly. 

You know he’s not fucking around.

“Is that what you want, huh?” his head dips with yours, effortlessly inhibiting your gaze from escaping his own. “Huh?”

“I—I dunno—”

“Let me revise the question, then.” His voice softens marginally, mollifying beneath your unsure trepidation. “Is that what you need?” 

His eyes are attentive as they scan your face, intent on cataloging and dissecting every slight change in micro-expression, desperate to make sure that you don’t require a therapy spanking.

Is that what you need? Daddy’s strong, solid hand colliding with your bottom in perfectly timed intervals, hard enough to leave a stinging, raised imprint of his palm across your flesh but not harsh enough to procure bruises, or a soreness that lasts more than the night? Daddy’s steady voice, calm and even, calling out numbers echoing after each sharp slap!? Daddy’s thick thighs, sculpted from lean, firm muscle, grounding and pressed tight to your torso, absorbing every shudder of your ribcage, every shiver of your flesh, rippling through your form following each strike?

Do you need a safe space to scream and cry and kick, to let go in every sense of the word and then allow Daddy’s scarred hands to put you back together, piece by painstaking piece, with loving fingers and hushed affirmations? Are you acting out because you’re in dire need of something more, instead of just craving shallow attention and exhilarating entertainment? 

No, you shake your head, you don’t think so.

“Words, sweetheart.”

“No, Sir.” 

“That’s what I thought,” he says, stringent, but his touch is tender, fingertips trailing up your spine in a comforting caress, his other hand massaging small circles into your hip. “Try something again and you will be receiving a spanking. This is your final warning, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good.” He drops a kiss to the crown of your head, then scatters a few more across your scalp for good measure. “Now, be a good girl and go to sleep for me, yeah? You clearly need a nap.” 

You may always test Daddy’s patience, but Daddy always wins. 

[woso-dreamzzz]

Mimic III

McFoord x Toddler!Reader

Summary: You're being suspicious

There is a hole underneath your fence, at the very end of the garden.

Also at the end of the garden, is a shed. It doesn't get used much so it's a little run down.

There's no connection between the hole and the fence, not an obvious one anyway. Not one that would make Caitlin investigate them both so obviously.

She's much more concerned finding out the reason for your strange behaviour.

You've been shifty recently, which is especially strange for such a little girl. Your second birthday is coming up very quickly but you've seemed to develop fairly quickly now that you've been hanging around with Sam and Kristie's Chook when Caitlin and Katie are busy.

You've also gotten shockingly independent.

There's no need for your leash when you're in the house and Caitlin's happy to let you run around the garden by yourself as she does the dishes, checking on you through the windows periodically.

You're being a little weird and what's even weirder is Coopurr's food going missing.

Caitlin's sure that she's not overfeeding him because he hasn't put on any weight but his biscuits and his wet food are going down so quickly that someone must be taking them.

That someone, it turns out, is you.

Caitlin catches you doing it one afternoon when you grab the whole box of biscuits and a sachet of wet food before toddling out to the garden.

She sighs, letting you scamper up the far side and duck behind the shed before getting up to follow you.

Caitlin really hopes you haven't been eating them like you were when you were younger.

"Gremlin!" She calls," Don't take-"

A puffed up ball of fur hisses at her from where it's dangling from the scruff of it's neck in your hand.

"What is that?!"

"My Spicy!" You say proudly," Spicy, Spicy, Spicy!"

"Katie!" Caitlin yells," You better come out here!"

You're still holding the kitten by the back of the neck, humming to yourself as Caitlin notices the pile of cat food you're been hoarding.

She crouches in front of you, gently reaching for the kitten before flinching back when it tries to scratch her. "Where...Where did you find it?"

"Stuck under fence," You tell Caitlin," I save Spicy."

Caitlin forces a smile on her face. "That's nice. How long have you been looking after him?"

"One week," You reply," My Spicy is special!"

Caitlin warily shuffles closer, kept at bay by the flashing claws off this feral kitten.

"You're being very good with Spicy but can I have him?"

You frown. "Spicy's hungry."

"I'll feed him."

"Caitlin? What's-"

Katie skids to a stop in front of you both, mouth hanging open and discarded dish towel on her shoulder from where she was using it to dry the dishes.

"Spicy, my kitty!" You exclaim," See?"

Spicy snarls and Katie very gently throws the dish towel at him before taking him from your grip.

"Spicy!" You cry, moving to kick Katie but Caitlin's already got you by the back of your overalls, dangling you above the ground as you whine," My Spicy!"

"Katie's just...taking Spicy for a bath."

"I am?"

"Yes, Katie, you are and then we'll take Spicy to the vet."

Secretly, Caitlin hopes the vet will tell her that she needs to take the kitten to the shelter. She doesn't particularly want it in her house but you seem to have gotten attached, if the way you keep fighting against her hold is any indication.

"Want Spicy! Spicy's mine!"

There's that as well and, when Katie comes downstairs with the kitten suitably pissed off and still hissing, you go straight up to it for cuddles and it relaxes in your arms.

"No vet for Spicy!" You insist," Spicy's good!"

"I'm sure Spicy is..." Katie's arms are full of scratches. "...Tolerable but we still need to check he's not sick."

"Then bring home!"

"I don't know, Gremlin, he might want to be with other cats." Katie's very proud of herself for coming up with that excuse, mentally patting herself on the back even as Caitlin shakes her head in disbelief.

You unwrap her excuse so easily, pointing to where Coopurr is sitting, licking his own bum.

"Have Coopurr," You point out," Coopurr is cat. Spicy is cat."

"Er..."

"We keep Spicy," You declare, nodding and rocking your new kitten," Spicy, new home!"

[lostintransist]

Chiseled Heart | Part 3

CW: A man being creepy at the gym

AO3 | Part 1

“She gave me a gift card.”

König stares at his boots, arms crossed and shoulders resting against the back of his therapist’s couch.

“I’m not seeing why this makes you so upset.” Rich shifts in his chair across the small room, putting his stylus on the screen of his tablet. “Last time we talked you told me you were worried about a woman you had helped at the gym since she had been hurt and now you’re mad that she gave you a gift card to say thank you for the help?”

Frustrated, König turned to stare out the window. Sometimes squirrels would scamper down the powerline and give him an excuse to avoid trying to find words. He doubted he would find the words for this feeling in any of the languages he knew.

“I am…upset because,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “Danke was enough.”

“Do you feel like it’s fair to say you are upset because the exchange of money changed the interaction for you?”

“Ja,” he nodded.

“Okay,” Rich glances at his watch. “Can I give you my thoughts on the matter? I know you’ve been working at understanding others more.”

König narrows his eyes but nods his consent. He had worked with Rich for enough years to trust his opinion.

“You said she told you that she would bring a card the next day you saw each other but insisted after you walked her to her car, right?”

“Ja.”

“Okay, did you consider that she felt like asking for help needed something in return? Walking a woman to her car is a layer of safety, a measure of security that to her must have been a weight off her shoulders. She doesn’t know you well but wants the exchange to be equal. Could it be that she didn’t want to burden you?”

König turns the words over in his mind. You had been so apologetic even ask you asked for his help. The only time König had ever feared for his life had been under the hands of his vater.

“Help is no burden,” he argues, not quite willing to concede the point.

“I don’t imagine that it is, you work hard to be kind. I am saying that from her perspective, help and kindness are not guaranteed. By virtue of being a woman, she is always at a disadvantage and will do what she can to keep herself safe.”

He grunted.

“Sorry König, this might be one of those times to use radical acceptance. You will never understand the fear of existing in a small body where every man is a threat.” Rich shrugged one shoulder.

A moment passes in silence before König reveals the other reason the interaction bothered him so much.

“She has started to appear in my art.”

That got a double eyebrow lift from Rich. It wasn’t often that König caught his therapist by surprise.

“You’re art is how you process a lot of the trauma from serving right? How do you feel that your gym buddy is in your art?”

“Conflicted.”

Rich said nothing, only noting something on his tablet.

The silence compelled him to speak more. Rich knew it and König knew Rich knew it.

“Carving her feels different. Pulling memories from stone reminds me of the sting of pain.”

“How does carving her feel?”

“Freeing.”

Rich studies König. König leans over and picks through the basket of fidgets that sat at the end of the couch.

“Do you want to go into that more or leave it for now?”

König delayed answering until he pulled puddy between his hands.

“Leave it.”

“I’ll make a note to check back on the topic next time we chat then. How is your art selling right now? It’s still on display at the gallery right?”

They drift into more familiar and safe discussions.

There is only five minutes left. He has been watching the clock. There wouldn’t be time to get deep into this.

“Tell me to stop, to stop talking to her.”

Rich’s brows lift with confusion, it is also in the lilting of his voice, “You want me to tell you to stop making a human connection? The goal we’ve been working toward for nearly seven months now?”

König scowled as he shifted on the couch, arms folding across his chest. It sounded stupid when he put it that way.

“It’s okay to be scared König. This is a big step.”

He doesn’t reply, debating how to settle this struggle within himself.

“Did you already schedule your regular appointment with the front desk?” Rich asks, letting the topic drop.

One thing he excelled at carving had always been hands. The intricacies and the expressions that can be found in fingers had fascinated him. It was your hands he pulled from a small chunk of granite. Before he knew they were your hands he had carved a delicate ring on the left hand. The fingers on the left hand curled over the right ones, the piece ending below the right wrist. The pose reminded him of how you held pressure on your bleeding finger those weeks ago.

Frustrated he set it aside to continue on a massive piece. With a view into a building, as wide as he is tall, a house of worship is starting to come together. He carved out the rough shapes of the pillars and dug through the stone to what he had decided to be the back wall. Now came the time-consuming work of removing stone until he could begin to carve the bodies that lay scattered along the floor. This had been one of his worst nightmares. They had been too late.

Music drifted through the space from his built-in speakers. König worked late into the afternoon until Feather, the gallerist, arrived to peruse his recently completed carvings to see which she would like to house and which would be listed on the website or hawked directly to wealthy buyers.

Feather looked like she ran an art gallery. Her bold colors, expensive suits, matching lipstick, and perfectly done hair always set König on edge. Even in her heels, the top of her head reached his elbow. He remained seated as she let herself into his studio.

“Ah! There is my favorite artist. Where are the new pieces for me?” She breezed past him as he stayed seated on his stool. Feather knew where the new pieces would be by now.

Ignoring her, König focused on his carving. He could not work while anyone else existed in his studio but this process of removing stone to access the image didn’t count.

After several minutes Feather appeared in his line of view.

“I want the whole lot, stellar as always my dear.” She spoke with a crispness to her words, as if her job required a level of uppityness.

“Same terms as always,” König fiddles with the edge of his chisel. It needs to be sharpened soon.

“Agreed,” Feather crosses her arms. Her eyes drift over his current work in progress before she turns and points to the hands he had set aside.

“How much for the hands?”

A chill wraps itself around his spine.

“Not for sale.”

A good business woman Feather narrows her eyes at him and throws out a number much higher than they usually agreed upon for smaller pieces. He lifts a brow before shaking his head.

She tried three more offers before sighing and folding her arms dramatically.

“König I know all artists are finicky about their work but I have a patron who has been asking for something like this for a long time. He would pay through the nose if I sent him a photo. He would pay especially well since it is your work.”

“Goodbye Feather,” he pulled the remote from his pocket and increased the volume of the music.

He didn’t create for money. König carved images from stone because if he left them inside they would fester and canker his soul.

Feather got the message and fired off a text to him before leaving of when her team would be by to pick up all the pieces agreed upon and confirmed his payment would be sent via wire after they arrived at the gallery. He marked the messages as read and set all his tools in their home nearly an hour later. Eating a quick meal he readied himself for the gym, and more of you.

His time with KorTac gave him the ability to appear focused while his mind drifts. Sliding through his thoughts König cannot quite decide how to feel about the interactions he has had with you. Bringing you up in therapy hadn’t helped yet.

When the doors move and allow you entry König is shocked at your smile as your eyes find his. He reciprocates the small wave you give him as you head into the changing room. Then curses himself for the niggle of brightness that your smile brought. Continuing his workout König kept you in sight but did not approach. He had been stilted and stiff when you had pressed the gift card into his hands on Wednesday and didn’t know how or if he wanted to try and bridge that gap.

A man approaches you four different times in the span of twenty minutes. When you finally snap at him, anger contorting your face, you point to König. He watches as you stomp away from the man and approach him instead.

Any anger disappeared from your eyes by the time you reached him. You folded your arms tight to your chest and blinked rapidly as if to fight back tears. When you stopped you stood entirely too close for the acquaintances that you were.

“König?”

“Ja?”

“Can you bend down a moment for me?”

He does as requested, not pausing to think that he should not accept orders from you.

“There is a man that is bothering me and I told him you were my boyfriend. Can you pretend until he leaves?”

König can only blink at you before glaring at the man in question. The prick sneers a huff of breath in your direction.

“How does one pretend to be a boyfriend?” He keeps his volume low.

“You could put a hand on my waist or something? I just need him to leave me alone. The reason I like this gym is most of the guys only talk to me when they have a correction or to encourage me to hit a new PR. I don’t want to leave but if he keeps bothering me I am gonna have to go home,” you tighten your folded arms to your chest, clearly upset.

Following the twitch of his muscles König pulls you into a hug, resting his chin on the top of your head as he lets his killer face stare out at the man who bothered you. The fucker tries to maintain a sneer, but when your arms slip around König’s waist and the hateful glare pummeling him from across the gym becomes too much he man left in a tizzy.

When you pull back from the hug König struggles to return his hands to his sides and not leave them trailing the top of your hip bones. His fingers ache both from the touch and the lack of contact.

You rub a palm under one eye, wiping away the wetness that collected there.

“Thanks, sorry. I had a bad day at work and then the nonsense with a guy being a jerk I might actually call it a night.” You sniff lightly, giving him a watery smile.

“We can work out together if you want?”

König took whatever courage he had found a way to take the reigns and shake it until the bastard had to be dead in his skull.

You rub a thumb beneath your nose, face contemplative.

“That would actually be okay, yeah.”

He blinks at you, unsure why you would say yes. And then unsure of how to make this work.

“I don’t want to disrupt your routine,” you rush to fill the silence that had grown between you, “I can do whatever you are doing today, provided we fix the weights for me.”

Nodding König replies, “Company is welcome, but no offering to pay.”

You tongue at your teeth behind your lips.

“Okay, you are uncomfortable with thank-you gifts. Got it.”

König gives a startled laugh. You had labeled the feeling he and his therapist were unable to articulate.

“Ja, help is given, not bought.”

A beautiful blush stains your cheeks. The sight of your blushing smile sticks like a bur on a sock as he walks you to your car and waves to you as you disappear into the night. The change in color on your face haunts his dreams.

Masterlist | Chiseled Heart Masterlist

Part 4

@backseatsoldier minor updates from what you read but 😘

[hqbaby]

seventeen — be careful

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 1.9k content. profanity, sexual content [brief sex scene, vaginal penetration]

You know better than to listen to Sukuna. Sukuna, who at seventeen came to you with his biggest, brightest idea: suction cups on every shoe in the world so people would—and you quote—“stop tripping on their damn faces all the time.”

You like to think that you’re better than this. That you won’t succumb to his idiocy, no matter how tempting it may seem. That you’re somehow more evolved than this, capable of saying no to anything your best friend deems to be a “good idea.”

Alas, you’re human and incapable of refusing Sukuna all the time.

Which is why you’re here, on your couch with your brilliant best friend balls deep inside of you while Maki and Nobara knock on your door, waiting for you to let them in to start the study session that you requested.

Sukuna is of course oblivious to the pounding on your door, to Maki’s threats of, “I’m gonna break your door down if you don’t let us in!” He is, unfortunately, too busy pounding into you, shoving his dick into your cunt as you try to push him off.

“Sukuna!” you hiss, hand pressed against his unmoving chest. “They’re here!”

He opens his eyes, grinning through the blissed out look on his face. “So? I don’t hear you telling me to stop.” He thrusts against a spot that has you, unwillingly moaning into the back of your hand. He snickers. “Want me to stop, tiger?”

Glaring at him, you reach down to your clit and bite his shoulder to keep your sounds at bay. “Just be quick,” you whimper, grabbing onto his back as he drills into your walls. “Fuck!”

He picks up the pace and soon enough the two of you are riding through your highs, and you are unceremoniously pushing him off of you. As he groans on the carpet, you scramble to look for your shorts, finding them in some corner—how did it even get there?—and pulling them on.

“Go into the bathroom,” you tell him, looking at your reflection on the fridge and attempting to make your hair look decent. You whip your head around when he doesn’t move. “Now!”

Sukuna stumbles getting up, grimacing as he peels the condom from his dick. “And then what?”

“Make yourself look decent!” you whisper-shout, throwing his jeans at him. “Quickly!”

“I’m going! I’m going!” he says as he scampers into the bathroom.

You give the room one last look, trying to spot any pieces of incriminating evidence, before you grab the knob and swing the door open.

“Hi!” you say, putting on your most convincing smile when you see your two friends on the other side. “Sorry, I got caught up with something.”

“Are you okay?” Maki asks as she and Nobara step inside your apartment. Of course she’d notice that something’s up. “You’re panting.”

You let out a nervous laugh. “Am I?” you say. “I didn’t notice.”

You lead them into the living room, eyes scanning the couch to check for any wet spots, any stains. Your two friends, oblivious to your panicked gaze, make themselves comfortable, taking their usual spots and placing their bags on the floor.

“Do you guys want anything to drink?” you ask them, quickly making your way to the kitchen. “I have tea, soda, whatever you want.”

“Tea please,” Nobara says, pulling her laptop out. She looks at you and frowns. “Maki’s right. You don’t look okay.”

“I’m fine!” you say a little too quickly. “Just—” 

“Oh! You guys are here!”

Sukuna walks out of the bathroom, face flushed as he tries his best to move coolly over to your friends. He has a totally-not-suspicious grin on his face as he sits down on the floor beside Nobara. At least he had enough sense to fix his hair. It was in a… not so good state just a few minutes ago.

“Oh, you’re here,” Nobara says, looking at Sukuna. While she’s definitely gotten used to his presence, you wouldn’t go so far as to call the two of them friends. “I didn’t know you were studying with us.”

“He’s not!” you cut in before Sukuna can say anything. “He was just passing through. Needed to use the toilet.”

He looks at you, eye twitching a little at the excuse you just gave for him. “Yeah,” he says through his smile. “You guys know me. And toilets.”

Maki looks between the two of you, immediately picking up on whatever nervous energy you aren’t able to hide. “Okay, what’s going on here?”

“Nothing!” the two of you say, not helping your case.

Maki turns to Sukuna, the weaker link. She always knows which buttons to push. “Why are you really here?” she asks. “And don’t even think of lying to me.”

A beat passes and he doesn’t answer.

Then another.

Then another.

Then—

“Holy shit! You’re fucking!”

You sink to the floor. “I’m gonna crawl into a hole and die now.”

Nobara is looking between the two of you wildly now, manic eyes shifting from you to Sukuna to you to Sukuna. She stands, pointing an accusatory finger somewhere between the two of you because the shock has made her lose all sense of direction apparently.

“No fucking way!” she says. To you? To Sukuna? You can’t tell. All you know is that she sounds confused, shocked, and mad all at the same time. “How long has this been going on?”

You roll your eyes at her theatrics (not that you weren’t being dramatic in your own right too) and walk over to them from the kitchen. “Barely two days,” you tell her. “It just… happened.”

Maki narrows her eyes at you. “His dick just so happened to slide inside you?”

Sukuna is red in the face, clearly beyond uncomfortable with this conversation. “Okay, now before you guys start—”

“You don’t talk,” Maki tells him firmly, forcing him to hug his knees and look down at the floor. She turns back to you. “I thought this wasn’t real, that the two of you,” she drags a finger from you to Sukuna, “were just fucking around because of the breakup.”

You shrink back, holding your arms and averting your gaze. “I think this is a good thing.”

The way your voice comes out is so quiet and vulnerable, it almost scares you. Judging by the look on Maki’s face when you turn to her after a moment of silence, you realize that it’s probably caused the same effect on her too. When was the last time she heard you be this open about the way you felt?

“Okay,” she says eventually. She turns to Sukuna. “Just because you two are a thing now, doesn’t mean you get to intrude on our girl time.”

He lifts his head and nods. “Yeah, yeah, I know.”

She waves him off. “Skedaddle, dude.”

“What? Like right now?”

“Yes.”

“But you’re just gonna talk about me!” Sukuna whines. He glances at you, hoping for some support. “They’re gonna shit talk me.”

You shrug, grinning now at his distress. “Too bad,” you tell him. “It’s girl time, and you’re not a girl.”

After Sukuna leaves, the three of you go about your familiar routine. You get your friends drinks, Maki pulls out a bunch of food that she brought—against your wishes—and Nobara complains about the fact that she has way too many things to study and far too little time.

“It’s so fucking cold,” you tell Nobara when she turns the AC up. You grab the sweater on your couch and pull it over your head, rubbing your arms as you shiver, all exaggerated just to get your point across.

Nobara just shrugs and picks at some of the sushi Maki brought. “Too bad,” she tells you through a full mouth. “I’m your guest and it’s your duty as a host to make sure I get everything I want.”

“Maki, she’s being mean.”

Maki hums, focused on whatever it is she’s doing on her phone. “Nobara, don’t be mean,” she says mindlessly. When she puts her phone away she turns to you, “Kento’s gonna have your ass.”

You groan. “What did I do this time?”

“What do you think you did?”

“I dunno. I was my beautiful, wonderful self?”

“Nope,” she tells you, relaxing into her seat. “You missed a zero on the financial report.”

“Oh, I fucking did not,” you say, defensive. “I triple-checked that!”

“Well, apparently you missed it,” she says. “All good though because apparently it just means we have more money to donate now.”

You grin, all smug at your not-so-terrible-mistake. “Look at me, making money out of thin air.”

“He’s still gonna kill you though.”

“I know,” you tell her. You open one of the many bags of chips Maki brought and pop a piece in your mouth. “Does that man ever take a break? It’s like he’s always texting me about the club or calling you about some shitty thing I did.”

Nobara snorts at that.

“What?” you say, looking at her with a raised brow.

“Oh, please,” she says. “We all know he has a crush on you.”

You grab one of your throw pillows from the couch and hurl it at her. “Take that back right now!” you demand. “That’s so gross. He’s like a brother to me. An annoying nuisance of an older brother.”

“The same way Sukuna’s like a brother to you?”

You frown. It’s not like you thought the topic wouldn’t come up. Sukuna was right, you were obviously going to have to address the elephant in the room—when the elephant in question wasn’t in the room anymore of course.

“Is it real?” Nobara asks you. “Because if it isn’t—and I can’t believe I’m actually trying to do something good for that guy, but because I know how much he means to you—maybe you shouldn’t use your best friend as a rebound.”

“I’m not using him as a rebound.”

Your friends share a look. You hate when they do that because it always means that they know something you don’t. They see something you don’t see.

“I’m just saying, I don’t think you’re really over Satoru just yet,” Nobara tells you eventually.

“What makes you think that?” you ask. Your voice is quieter than you would like it to be. “I was the one who broke up with him.”

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Maki points out. “We all know how… complicated that was.”

You don’t like this. You don’t like this at all.

After the breakup, you did your best to steer clear of the topic of Satoru. The whole thing was too much for you, in more ways than one. Having to dig that all up now… It isn’t the way you want this to go.

“Sukuna and I are good,” you say, but you begin to wonder if you’re saying it for them or for yourself. “I know you guys don’t like him so much, but he cares about me. I’ve known him forever, I trust him.”

Maki nods, clearing her throat. “Yeah,” she says as she turns away from you. “So who’s sweater are you wearing?”

You furrow your brows, grabbing the fabric of the thing you’re wearing. You look down. What could she possibly be implying—

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Nobara says, watching the recognition in your eyes. She leans over the coffee table and places a hand on top of yours. “Just be careful, yeah?”

Your mouth feels dry as you look up at your friends. “Yeah,” you tell them. “I’ll be careful.”

Your fingers drag along the hem of the sweater. Not yours, definitely, far too big to be something you’d buy for yourself. You’d say you don’t know why you still have it, but you do. Of course you do.

You should really give it back to Satoru.

notes. oh no! feelings!

[spaceshipellie]

Can you write a soccer!ellie x fem!reader where It’s fluff before Ellies game and then her team loses and she fucks you roughly after out of anger? <3

soccer!ellie x fem!reader

warnings: dom!ellie, sub!reader, fingering (r receiving), strap usage (r receiving), fucks you in her soccer tshirt, slight dacryphilia, spit, slight spanking, reader wears a skirt, 18+ MDNI

author’s note: firstly i am SO SORRY this took me a million years to get to but i hope you still love it. sporty ellie whether it’s soccer, volleyball, hockey, whatever makes me soooo hot and bothered (not to mention all the sporty ellie fanart ??? makes me weak in the knees every time)

no one could deny that ellie was hot as fuck, especially when she was playing soccer. the way she moved so quickly and strategically. the way she’d stride along lifting her top up to wipe sweat from her face, exposing her abs. all the girls at her games fawned over her but you were the only one she ever gave a shit about. she loved looking up at you in the stands and seeing your pretty smile as you looked at her, giving her a little wave or even mouthing an “i love you.”

it was about ten minutes before the game was about to start and you were currently standing before her, cupping her face whilst her hands securely held your waist that adorned one of her soccer shirts.

“you’re going to be amazing, baby.”

“always am when i’ve got my little good luck charm cheering me on.”

you smiled and pressed a soft kiss to her lips before you felt a towel come flying at you both.

“williams, we’re on in five, keep it in your pants,” the coach said.

ellie rolled her eyes at them, throwing out a “yeah yeah, i’m coming” before giving you another quick kiss and squeeze on your waist.

“i’ll see you later, baby,” she smiled, licking her lips.

“good luck.” you stole another quick peck before scampering off, ellie eyeing you up as you left.

you watched intently throughout the game. it was very back and forth with who was in the lead and with only two minutes to go and ellie’s team a few points behind, you were getting nervous. you could see it in ellie’s face too and the way she paced with her jaw clenched.

soon enough, the buzzer went indicating the game was over and ellie’s team had lost. you could see her and her teammates all hugging and patting each other on the back and mumbling things to each other and you braced yourself for dealing with a pissed off ellie later.

you were now at home after ellie had showered and changed in the locker room and she had ranted about the game for the entire drive, her knuckles turning white as she gripped the steering wheel. you had mostly just been listening, sensing that she needed to get the frustration out of her system. well, ranting about it was one way but you could think of some other things that normally helped.

whilst she was slumped in a chair, arms folded across her chest and an aggravated pout on her face, you stood behind her and started gently massaging her shoulders.

“sorry about the game, baby. there will be others.”

“i know but doesn’t make it any less fucking annoying.”

“you were still amazing out there.” you continued rubbing her shoulders comfortingly.

“we should have fucking won,” she grumbled, bouncing her knee in irritation.

you leant down to kiss her temple gently and left more soft kisses down towards the curve of her neck before leaving one behind her ear and whispering.

“wanna use me to feel better about it?”

something in her must have snapped because she then shot up from her seat and grabbed your arms to pull you close, her own arms trapping you against her. a tiny smirk graced her features.

“oh yeah? that’s what you want?”

“that’s what i want,” you spoke quietly, your hand gripping her hair to pull her closer to you.

she hungrily kissed you, her hands exploring your entire body as she pushed you towards your shared bedroom. she ripped off her hoodie leaving her in her wife pleaser before pushing you down onto the bed. you whined a little as you bounced with the impact on the mattress. she looked down at you sitting on the edge of the bed, like you were her prey and she was starving. your skirt had bunched up a little, giving her a peak at the skimpy red underwear you had on. she shoved your legs apart and admired the wet fabric, chuckling to herself before using her other hand to grip both your cheeks between her fingers and kissed you, her hot open mouth on yours. she teased your clit through your underwear with light strokes.

“i think you kinda like the fact that we lost,” she taunted.

“no.” your voice didn’t sound very convincing.

“you sure? sure you don’t like it when i take my anger out on you like this?” her fingers pressed harder against your clit. you couldn’t find the words to say.

“speak up, baby.”

“i-i-fuck ellie, i like it.”

she smiled smugly to herself. “good girl.”

she started to peel your underwear off your legs, a string of cum breaking as she pulled it away from your aching cunt.

“you gonna let me do whatever i want with you?” her finger toyed with your hole.

“please, ellie,” you tried to nod, her grip still holding your face.

she shoved two fingers all the way in and her pace was immediately relentless. you cried out as she fucked into you, the tips of her fingers hitting that spot every time.

“so fucking wet for me, pretty girl, and i’ve only just started.”

you let out a squeaky moan as you already felt yourself wanting to close your legs but you resisted. her hand on your face slid down to pull the soccer top up, exposing your tits. she pushed the fabric towards your mouth indicating for you to hold it in place so she could squeeze your boobs, pinching your nipples occasionally.

“i think you can take another for me,” she said as she pushed a third finger inside.

your arms grew tired from holding yourself up but you pushed through it as she suddenly got down on her knees and spat directly on your cunt. you both watched as it dribbled down over your clit and got caught in the rapid movements of her fingers fucking in and out. your cries were muffled by the fabric in between your teeth.

she left bite marks and sloppy kisses all along your thighs. she moved her hand away from your tits and starting rubbing her fingers side to side on your clit. the added pleasure brought tears to your eyes and she looked up at you.

“can’t handle it, baby? come on, i know you can.”

your moans were unholy as you felt it building up in you lower stomach. your ears were practically ringing except for the wet sounds of your cunt and her words.

“ellie, i’m gonna–“ the top dropped from your mouth and a whimper cut you off as her fingers kept torturing you through your release. the familiar clear liquid splashed and dripped down her wrist and forearm.

“shit, baby, you fucking squirted.”

still in a daze, you looked down at where her fingers were still buried inside you but were now still and her arm and the mattress under your ass was wet. your fucked out pussy couldn’t stop clenching even when she pulled out and kissed you, grabbing your skirt and yanking it down, tossing it somewhere in the room. she quickly span you around so that you were lying flat on your stomach and gave your ass a quick slap. you could hear her undoing her jeans behind you and shuffling around with something. something you assumed to be her strap. the bed then dipped either side of you as she leant on her hands above you.

“lift up,” she instructed, shoving a pillow under your hips so that your ass was propped up better.

she kissed and grazed her teeth on the back of your shoulder and relished in seeing the massive “williams” stated across your back. you were hers and everyone at that game knew it. you lifted your ass up in desperation and felt the tip of the strap against it.

“you needy for my dick, baby?”

you moaned an mmhmm in response.

“once just wasn’t enough, huh? you need to be stuffed again?”

“ellie…please.”

she started rubbing the tip of the strap over your slippery folds. she seemed to take an agonisingly long time in teasing you like that before she eventually pushed it in, bottoming out making you gasp against the mattress. she used one arm to hold herself up and used the other to grip your waist, pushing and pinning it down into the bed as she started to fuck into you. her thrusts were hard and they slowly got faster and faster until you were practically blubbering at how good and overwhelming it felt. the praises and filth that left her mouth whilst she had her way with you were never ending.

“you’re taking my dick so well.”

“such a good girl letting me use you like this.”

“so good to me, baby.”

it was pushing you over the edge as she brutally slammed in and out of you. your moans became more strangled and loud despite your face being pressed into the bed. she gave your ass a few slaps before roughly gripping the flesh and spreading it so she had a better view of your stretched out pussy and the cum that was forming a ring around her strap. you were so sensitive it was almost too much but being completely pinned under her, you couldn’t move away even if you wanted to, which you didn’t of course. she wasn’t completely wrong before, of course you didn’t want her to lose but you also weren’t going to complain about what it had led to.

“oh fuckfuckfuck,” you pathetically cried.

“come for me, show me how good i’m making you feel.”

your whole body shook as you came and you felt empty when she eventually pulled out. you whined and wiggled your hips, gaining a low laugh from her. she dragged some of your cum that was dripping down to your clit and pushed it back inside of you with two of her fingers. she worked them in and out slowly whilst brushing your hair away so she could leave a kiss behind your ear.

“don’t worry, baby. i’m not done with you yet.”

[angel-of-the-moons]

Peaches and Cream

Pre-War!Cooper Howard x Curvy!Fem!Reader

TW/CW: Smut, NSFW, Oral (f! Receiving), reader's got some thick thighs and little bit of hair down there, overuse of pet names. (You can't tell me this man wouldn't call you a pet name at every available opportunity)

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

A/N: Remember that line in MK 11 where Kano goes "Aren't you a peach? I could eat a peach for hours."? I just got some body wash that smells exactly like those peach ring candies and this happened upon me like a bolt of Zeus hit me whilst in the shower today

Divider by @/saradika-graphics

Being on the rebound after the messy divorce with Barb wasn't on Cooper's priority lists. Dating one of the animal trainers from one of his movies sets was certainly never an avenue he thought he'd pursue.

But when his horse got loose on set and she ignored him in favor of you? Oh, you got his attention all right... One thing led to another, and boy did the tabloids have a field day when pictures of the two of you kissing made it into circulation.

You were used to tabloids and reporters, working on movie sets. And now, dating America's favorite heart-throb cowboy? Oh, you bet your ass if you weren't used to it before you sure were, now.

You had fallen into a comfortable routine, often staying over at his place. To say Barb was prickly about how quickly he seemed to move on was... nice. She did however like how good you were with Janey, so that eased her annoyance with you some. So, she got used to seeing you around when Cooper would pick Janey up or when she dropped her off.

Today was one of those days, Cooper had run out to see his agent about something when Barb showed up to take Janey back again. You said stiff goodbyes and gave Janey a big hug, and once they were off, hopped in for a quick shower.

Your skin was still damp and your hair was still wrapped up in a towel when he got back, looking tired and annoyed.

Cooper kicked his shoes off by the front door, Roosevelt letting our short barks of excitement as his owner patted his head, before scampering back off to lay in his bed and gnaw his beef bone in content.

You just finished pouring a glass of sweet tea when Cooper's calloused hands circled your waist from behind, briefly giving your soft belly a squeeze before his fingers bunched in your dress as he kissed your neck. "Missed ya." He murmured.

"You were gone maybe, twenty minutes." You giggled, reaching up to brush his cheek with your hand as you slipped your drink, the ice cubes clinking loudly on the glass.

"Long enough. Didn't even get to kiss my baby goodbye when she got strapped into her Mama's car." He snorted, pressing his nose against your skin, breathing in the scent of the soaps you'd used.

"Damn, you smell good. Like a fuckin' peach."

"Oh?" You smirked as his hands began to roam, reaching down the front of your dress to grip the fat of your thighs in his palms, kneading softly. You bit your lip when he hummed an affirmation, his teeth grazing your skin on your shoulder.

"Mhhm... Good 'nuff to fuckin' eat." He drawled, his tone as thick and sweet as molasses; the timbre of his voice crawling through your pores.

"If you're hungry I can make dinner." You reply breathlessly, trying to interject your sense of humor.

"Nah, darlin'." Cooper growled, yaking you by the dress so you were flush tight against him; able to feel the growing outline of his cock as it filled out the crotch of his pants, "Not the kinda snack I want."

His breath hot on your ear, goosebumps on your skin; you barely had enough time to set your glass of tea down on the counter before he began tugging you to his bedroom; the towel on your head being unraveled and forgotten in the hall along the way.

The moment his door was kicked shut he turned you around and his mouth found yours like a homing missile--all teeth and tongue; dancing, twining, tugging and messy--knocking the air from your lungs as his hands blindly unbuttoned the top of your dress, groaning when the soft expanse of your bare breasts greeted his hands.

"No bra, darlin'?" Cooper rasped, pulling back from your mouth to grin.

"'s more comfortable." You barely mutter out before his lips are on you again, kissing you backwards until your knees hit the edge of the bed, knocking you back while he stayed standing.

His eyes lit up with a mischievous twinkle as he gave you that signature smirk of his coupled with the quirk of his brow. "Oh, you won't catch me complainin' babydoll... Not at all."

You huff and reach down, undoing the clasp to his belt, hastily trying to slide it free of the loops of his pants, but his hand stops you and you pout up at him impatiently.

"Easy now, baby." He said in a low and heavy tone, his accent emphasizing "baby" and making a shiver creep down to your toes.

He lifted his other hand to tug the buttons on his shirt free, plucking each one until his button-up was open more, revealing the white undershirt beneath.

"Now..." He growled softly as he began to sink to his knees, "Told ya I wanted a snack, darlin'... Now I'm gonna get one. Just lay back and relax."

Your heart sputtered a beat as Cooper pulled your thighs apart and just tugged your panties to the side; not even bothering to remove them before giving your damp folds an open-mouthed kiss, running his tongue along the length of your slit and drawing a shaky moan from you.

His hand trailed softly over your skin, brushing over the short mess of curls before using his thumb to pull the hood of your clit back; giving the sensitive nub a nip before chuckling.

"You're awful jumpy t'day, baby." He said, kissing that sweet little pearl a couple of times, stroking it with his fingers as you huff out a whine.

"Your fault..." You groaned, daring to look down at him.

Your eyes locked and he gives you a short wink, lowering his mouth again, this time dragging his tongue up your folds slowly before moving back down again as his thumb rolls your clit in opposite tune of his mouth.

Your head dropped back onto the bed and your voice seized in your throat, one hand bunching in the sheets while the other goes to grip at his immaculately slicked-back hair, tugging the strands free as you feel his tongue curl inside of you.

Cooper was good with his mouth; both on-screen and in the bedroom, this was never a debate.

His tongue was so skilled it had your legs all but jelly one night when he parked it at the local lookout; he'd lifted the cupholder separating your seats and tugged your hips over to him, leaning across the divider to eat you out right there in the front seat of his car. You barely had enough time to grasp that it was really happening before he ripped those sweet, sweet sounds he loved so much from you.

God, were you thankful that nobody had caught you two that night; "Cooper Howard caught in compromising position at Lover's Lane" you could just imagine the press salivating at that headline if they'd caught you.

You were happy he kept his antics on set confined to his trailer... but you had a feeling somebody walking by could probably hear what went on in there.

"Oh, fuck--Cooper!" You mewled, arching your back when he slid his long fingers inside of you, his lips wrapping firmly around your clit like a vacuum, writing obscene love-notes with his tongue, drawing more and more of your beautiful voice from inside of you.

Your toes curled and your hand tugged at his hair, making him groan and his eyes roll; his voice vibrating against you in a way that had you practically sobbing.

"Jus'--fuh--fuck." You moaned breathlessly, your heart pounding in your chest, your toes curling so hard you could feel your calves beginning to cramp.

"B-baby I'm--" You hiccuped; "'m gonna... gonna..."

All your words did was spur him on further, encouraging him to flatten his tongue in one long, slow drag until he could flick your clit again, his face and hand already soaked with your mess; his eyes dark and hungry like a wolf about to eat his lamb.

"That's it baby, c'mon, give it t' me." Cooper muttered against you before stroking your clit once again with his fingers, plunging his tongue and fingers inside of you in an alternating rhythm that had your brain feeling like it was turning to liquid sludge inside your skull as your climax hit you as if it were a runaway freight train.

Both of your hands gripped his hair tight, your thighs squeezing around his head, the flesh molding around his head wonderfully as he drank down your release, his hands going around your thighs to reach up and squeeze your belly while you rutted against his mouth; your voice babbling the sexiest things he could ever hope to hear from you.

When your orgasm finally died down and your legs dropped to hang over the edge of the bed, Cooper pulled back and grinned up at you, his face slick and shiny with your juices, his hair an absolute mess.

Fuck, he looked so good like that.

"You good, darlin'?" He asked you, his hands spreading over the squishy pouch of your tummy, his fingers tracing the stretch marks that lightly etched your skin.

"I... Y... yeah. Just need a breather." You pant, your eyelids heavy as you blinked up drunkenly at the ceiling.

"Good. He hummed, leaning down to kiss your throbbing clit, grinning at how your breathing stuttered and your body twitched as he did.

"Cause I can eat a peach for hours, babydoll."

[the-sin-hole]

for warmth

stanxreader, 3.2k words NSFW 18+ it's smut time again baby!!!

fem!reader (no pronouns used), vaginal fingering, PIV sex.

+++

“This is comin’ outta your paycheck,” Stan says, hoping his gruffness is providing an appropriate cover for how he’s really feeling right now. You smirk. You’re not buying it.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

“Body heat ain’t cheap, y’know! I’m workin’ overtime here to keep us both warm!”

You’re sitting on the cold, hard ground of a subterranean cave next to Stan, huddled for warmth. The only illumination is dull and blue, courtesy of some glowing crystals hanging from the walls, just enough for you to be able to see each other. While trying to help the younger twins locate some creature for god knows what purpose, you and Stan took the less-safe route of checking a seemingly stable cave. You quickly found the stability to be lacking when the mouth of it collapsed, trapping you both in here. Luckily the twins heard your cries and Stan’s angry stream of almost-swears, promising to find a way to get you out before scampering away. That was almost twenty minutes ago now. In the meantime, you remained here, slowly freezing your ass off.

You’re wearing clothes perfectly appropriate for the eighty degree and sunny day Gravity Falls is enjoying above ground. Not so much for the forty degree dark, damp cave. Stan took pity on your increasing shivers a while ago, wrapping an arm around you. His performative bristling at your use of his body warmth was in response to you throwing your legs over his and scooching closer.

“Well if I’m gonna be charged for this, I better get my money’s worth,” you say with a grin and press against even more against him.

His free hand twitches. This is the closest you’ve ever been to one another, prior interactions never going beyond fleeting touches or accidental bumps. He’s trying to play it cool, but he can’t deny his racing heartbeat. He wants to grab your leg and pull you closer, run his hand up and down it, feel your flesh. He’s wanted to do that for a while now. Among other things of a more intimate nature.

He’s trying hard not to think of those things right now, though.

“Should we try to find somethin’ to build a fire with? Those kids could take all day to get us outta here.”

“No, definitely not. We need to stay close,” you say a little too quickly. “I-I mean, we don’t even know what’s in this cave! There’s probably nothing flammable, and what if we run into something that wants to eat us?”

“I bet it’d be warm in a big monster’s stomach.”

You snort. “I am not going to let either of us get eaten by a big monster today. Listen, I’ve done my research! The best way to keep warm in a situation like this is to use another person’s body heat.”

You pause briefly before saying the next part.

You’ve been trying to lay the hints on thick for weeks now. Getting closer to him physically, giving him more casual touches, spending more time with him. You’ve caught him staring, even blushing a few times- not many, but enough to make you confident your feelings are reciprocated. Now you just need to get it through his thick skull that they are.

“The second best way to keep warm is to keep moving.”

“So what, you want me to start doing jumping jacks?”

“No, definitely not. I’m just saying…” you trail off for a second before emboldening yourself.

“If there were a way to do both of those things,” -you look up at him, and your faces are so close- “we wouldn’t be cold at all.”

He doesn’t respond for a moment, looking down at you in surprise. But then, in the low blue light, you see something change in his eyes.

“I’m, uh, not sure I know what you mean. I think I could use an example,” he says low and deep, and the change in tenor sends a shock of warmth through you.

“Well,” you say leaning upwards so your lips are barely an inch apart, “I think this would be a good start.” You press your lips to his. You do it softly, tender enough that Stan’s heart nearly aches at the careful contact. He presses his lips more firmly against yours. You return the escalation, heart racing. You both slowly escalate, kissing a little harder as the seconds go by. Stan is exercising all the restraint he can. His heart is beating faster and faster, he’s almost lightheaded, overwhelmed by it. Weeks and weeks of daydreaming about a moment like this and suddenly, without warning, it’s here. He wants to feel as much of you as he can, but he holds himself back. He doesn’t want to come on too strong, not right off the bat like this.

You pull away just enough to dart your eyes up and meet his. You can see the daze in his eyes.

“Was that a good demonstration?”

“Yeah,” he breathes against you, eyes darting back down to your lips, “but, uh, I still don’t get how that’s supposed to keep us warm. You got any better examples of that?”

More heat blooms through you. “I have a few tricks I could share.”

You reach up and grab his jaw with your hand as you kiss him again. Firmer, this time, less cautious, leaning your body into it so your chest and your legs are fully pressed up against him. The arm wrapped around you squeezes, and his free hand twitches. He doesn’t stop himself this time, reaching up and grabbing your calf, squeezing that too. You kiss him harder. The hand runs up and down your leg a few times before finding your upper thigh and gripping it. You run the hand on his jaw up to the back of his neck.

You kiss him harder, and he kisses back with even more enthusiasm. But he’s still holding back. So you escalate again for the both of you. You lick his lips and he meets your tongue. He presses his against yours in thick strokes, his tongue overtaking yours, making your heart race faster. Lust is starting to overtake your thoughts; you want more. After a few licks you escalate again. Keeping your lips on his you hoist yourself up and shift so you’re straddling him, knees meeting the hard ground on either side of him.

His hands find your waist. You hover above him for a while before slowly lowering yourself down on his lap. When you meet it you start slowly rocking back in forth in time with your kisses. Again starting gently, but slowly going harder, allowing more contact between your hips and his. He slides down a few inches to get a better angle, letting your groin sit flush with his, and he starts rocking with you. You’re completely lost in each other, his hands squeezing your waist, your hands running up from the back of his neck into his hair. Stan is working hard to keep his ever-growing desire under wraps, but the longer you go, the harder it is to do so.

When a small moan escapes your throat, his restrain slips. He shoves his tongue down your throat and grabs your hips hard, shoving them down harder against his crotch and moving you back and forth against him. You grunt against his tongue as he moves you- even through your shorts you can feel him growing hard underneath you. You work with his hands, rolling your hips more as he continues to guide them. You’re getting impatient with arousal. You want more, but you don’t know how to communicate it. So you decide to go the nonverbal route. You reach down and unbutton your jeans.

As soon as he hears the sound of your hand pulling down your zipper, all remaining strands of restraint are snapped. His hands wander from your hips downward, pulling your shorts down as much as he can in this position, plunging his hands underneath them, beneath your underwear, grasping what he can reach of your bare ass. He gropes you, hands wandering in time with his tongue from your ass to your hips to your waist to your chest. You can feel his cock straining against the crotch of his pants. Your arousal is making you lightheaded. You want to escalate again.

You quickly stand up just enough to step out of one leg of your shorts, letting them slide down your thigh and fall to the ground around your knee. You sit back down and Stan’s hands immediately find you again. His hands return to your backside, dipping underneath your underwear, groping more now that there’s less in his way. He squeezes your ass, shoves his hands in the space where you’ve mounted his lap so he can get at the underside of your thighs. His fingers get dangerously close to your pussy when he does, mere inches away. You throb at the tantalizingly close contact.

Lust has you grab one of his hands and bring it around to your front. You sit up from his groin and slide his hand underneath you. He reacts swiftly, eagerly, his fingers finding the crotch of your panties and sliding them to the side. He inserts one large finger and your breath hitches. He pumps it in and out a few times before sliding a second in. You moan against his tongue and it slides even deeper into your mouth, as if he’s trying to taste the sound of your pleasure.

He pulls back.

“You should be careful there, dollface,” he says with a smirk on his face. “Never know what could hear ya down here.”

His fingers press upwards, stimulating your g-spot and drawing more moans out of you, moans you attempt to hinder by pressing into his mouth again. He works harder, eliciting sounds progressively more difficult to muffle. You can hear your wetness as he works his fingers in and out of your pussy; his palm is starting to wet. Your body is radiating the heat it was so sorely needing just a few minutes ago, and you feel your brain fogged over with lust and molten-hot want, caring little about anything other than more escalation. You reach down and unbutton his pants, pull the zipper down. You rub your hand up and down his cock straining against his boxers and dimly realize through your fuzzy brain that it’s thick. He groans along with your moans as you grope his cock. You pull his waistband down and grab his length, start pumping with as much rhythm as you’re able to with your dizzy mind.

Your thumb runs up to his head and feels the precum leaking from it. You run your hand over it and pump with a firmer grasp, using it as a lubricant, and the groan he lets out against your tongue makes you whine. You pull back.

“I want you.”

“Feeling’s mutual,” he breaths back, fingers still working inside you. “But I didn’t exactly prepare for this if you get my drift.”

“I’m on birth control.”

“Works for m-mmph—”

You cut him off, crashing your lips back together. You pull his cock towards you and his fingers leave your pussy. Your heart feels like it’s trying to jump out of your chest as you readjust, knees dragging against the cold hard ground to make sure you’re angled properly to sit on his cock. Right hand on his shoulder, the other grasping his length, you position his head right at your entrance. Stan’s hands have moved back to your hips and they squeeze hard in anticipation.

You swiftly lower yourself a few inches, too eager to take it slow, and you immediately realize you were a little overconfident in your approach. You slap your hand over your mouth to cover the yelp that comes out of you, your other hand pulls Stan’s shirt in a shaking death grip. Your thighs are trembling. His cock is stretching you, heat is pooling in your cheeks and you can feel your heart in your throat as you pant desperately beneath your hand. It’s completely cut through the horny haze you were mired in. Now your entire body is pulsing at the sensation of the stretch, searingly hot, not able to perceive or think of anything else.

Stan has his own firm grip on your hips. His restraint has returned, for now, at the sight of you shaking on his cock. His face is growing a red similar to yours, his chest moving up and down with deep breaths to stabilize his racing heart.

“You alright there sugar?” He pants.

You nod. You manage to pant out, “M-more than I expected…”

“Too much?”

You look down at him. You can see genuine care in his eyes when he asks. But it’s everything around that look of care that you’re more interested in right now. You can tell he’s exerting a lot of control to keep himself from just pulling you down, impaling you, making you take it all. You throb at the thought.

“Fuck, no. I can take it, j-just give me a minute.”

He starts moving his hips slightly underneath you. Not pushing any more inside of you, only working the first few inches already there. His thumb goes to your clit and gently brushes it. Your hips buck slightly at the contact, sensitive and throbbing as you are. He repeats the motion while gently rolling his hips. That lustful haze is quickly returning. You raise your hips a few inches, trapping whines in your throat at the friction. You go back down, slowly this time, having learned your lesson. You make it another inch down, stay there for a few moments before raising back up. You slowly work your way down, Stan letting you go at your own pace, watching you with a look in his eye that makes you feel even warmer, gently massaging your clit the entire time until finally, with shuddering breaths and a stream of small “ah”s coming out of your mouth, you’re sitting fully on his lap. Your thighs are clenching and unclenching, hips weakly writhing as you sit there. You lean forward and bury your face into his neck, both hands weakly gripping at the front of his shirt. The sound of your struggle so close to his ear makes his cock twitch inside you.

“I f-feel like I’m going insane,” you say weak and high into his neck.

“You want help?”

“Yes.”

His hands move from your hips down to your ass once more, grip hard. He slowly lifts you a few inches before letting you back down. You feel so weak, drunk on the sensation of his cock stretching your walls, the friction all you can feel. All you can manage is more weak high pitched moans into his neck while your fists feebly grip his shirt. He keeps guiding you, a few inches up, a few inches down, before raising you up almost entirely off of his cock, then all the way back down. He’s not even going fast but you’re nearly babbling as you feel his full length leave and reenter you. Stan’s restraint is slipping. He uses the last of it to murmur in your ear,

“You tell me if it’s too much.”

You manage a weak “Uh-huh” in response.

He raises you all the way up again, but instead of a slow descent, he lets you fall back down quickly. You bite back a yelp as he does it again, and again, and again, picking up the pace each time. He’s going harder, too, the sound of his hips against you getting louder. Each penetration sends a shock through your body that wipes your mind totally clear of all thought. All you can think is all you can feel; his hands gripping your ass, his hips slamming into you, his fat cock pumping inside you, making you feel the entirety of his size each time. Your face has sunk so it’s buried in the crook of his neck, and the overwhelming sensation has you nearly drooling against him.

He’s going faster now, raising you less and less before plunging back in. Before long he’s not lifting you up at all, he’s holding you in place so his hips can do the work. He’s not thrusting- considering his position on the ground it’s more like rolling, his fat cock ruthlessly grinding against your g-spot, nearly reaching your cervix. Your eyes are starting to water as you feel an orgasm building deep within you. He can hear your noises starting to fade as you get close. He’s been working hard to keep himself from finishing before you- there’s nothing he wants more than to feel you come. He keeps his fierce pace and you feel almost unbearably warm, the heat pulsing and building within you until it releases, and you can’t restrain the loud strangled moans that come out of you as the orgasm rolls through you. It’s sharp, hot, making you tremble as Stan holds you in place, relishing the feeling of your soaked cunt seizing around his cock. A few more hard rolls into you and he stops, buried to the hilt, so deep he’s almost at your limit, and he comes as your cunt continues to twitch in the throes of your climax.

You both slump as you come down, panting, chests heaving against one another’s. Stan is letting out deep “hooough”s, you’re letting our desperate “haaah”s, almost harmonizing in post-bliss. You finally gather the strength to lift yourself up out of his neck, brush the hair out of your face. Your eyes meet his almost shyly. In the immediate aftermath doubts are starting to form- what if that was too much? Not enough? Is that all he wanted out of you, and now his interest is going to wane?

Your worries are snuffed out before they can even take hold. Stan’s hand finds your chin, lifts it up, and presses his lips to yours gently. Almost romantically, if you were to allow yourself the thought. You smile slightly against his lips, and you feel his lips upturn too.

“Well, I think we did a pretty good job keepin’ each other warm.”

You left out a soft laugh. “I think we did a great job,” you say, wiping sweat from his brow. “Thanks for the help. How much is that all gonna cost me?”

Stan’s turn to laugh. “It’s on the house this time. I think you did your fair share.”

“'This time', huh?”

Stan flashes a grin when he realizes the implication of his wording. “Yeah. We’ll play it by ear next time.”

You smile back. You gain enough strength to lift yourself up off his cock, letting out one long moan as you do.

You kiss him again as you hover over his lap. You start to stand on wobbly knees, readjusting your underwear and pulling up your shorts.

You look down, he’s looking at your with a glint in his eye. He opens his mouth to speak.

A small explosion comes from the other side of the cave wall.

“Guys!! Don’t worry, we found Grunkle Stan’s secret supply of dynamite and we’re gonna get you out of here!”

You look- a small chunk of the rocks are blown away, letting in a tiny stream of sunlight. You both hurry and redress, help each other straighten out your appearances.

As more sunlight starts to stream through, you share a glance and smile. You’re excited for next time.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

*a laser pointer shines on the floor in front of Treins desk during a lecture. It catches Lucius's eye, but Trein is facing the board, not noticing it, as he writes something on it.(an interaction piece, very late, and I am sorry for that, hope I'm not too late!)*

This seems like a dick move Ace would pull, so…

A Storied Past.

“The Snow Queen was the elder of two sisters in the Northern Kingdom’s royal family. While she was blessed with ice magic and had the makings of a skilled mage, her younger sister was but an ordinary human. This drove a wedge between the two, a rift which was only further exacerbated by the loss of their parents during a diplomatic trip to the Sunshine Lands…”

Trein droned on in his even, monotonous voice. Chalk struck the blackboard, scrawling out symbols and dates to accompany his lecture. (Students were half asleep, struggling to keep their eyes open.)

He paid no mind to the chaos unfolding behind his back, didn’t notice the red dot on his desk.

But Lucius did.

He launched a paw at the dot, puffing with pride at his successful capture. The cat dragged his spoils toward himself, eager to relish in it—but when he lifted his paw, there was nothing trapped under it. Lucius’s eyes boggled.

“Miao?”

The red dot reappeared, this time at the edge of Trein’s desk.

Determination filled Lucius. His tail fluffing up, he crawled closer to his target. Little by little, until he was nearly tipping off the side of the desk himself.

He fell forward, slapping both paws down to cage the dot in. His body landed with a dull THUMP, fat and fur rippling from the collision. Lucius snickered in delight. For sure, he had—

“Mrrrow!?”

The dot zoomed away at the last possible second, plunging to the carpet.

Lucius hissed in frustration.

The feline hopped down and chased after it, foregoing stealth altogether. He hopelessly dashed this way and that, following his prey wherever it went. Alas—no matter how fast he scampered, the tempting light always flitted out of reach.

“Meow… meow…!” Lucius panted.

“Ace!” Deuce harshly whispered. He sent a glare at his snickering classmate, who held a laser pointer in his gloved hand. “Stop that! You’re bullying the professor’s poor familiar. I’m feeling bad for it…”

“Quit being a killjoy, this is hilarious,” Ace shot back. Angling his device, he made the red dot race back up Trein’s desk. “Now let’s see how high this guy can ju…”

“TRAPPOLA!!”

Ace leapt in his seat, nearly dropping his laser pointer. The red light blipped out of existence.

Lucius’s face contorted with confusion. “Mrow?”

Ace hastily shoved the laser pointer beside his notebook, disguising the tool among his pencils and pens. Plastering on a wide smile, he chirped, “Yeah, prof?”

Trein eyed him from over his shoulder suspiciously. “Have you been paying attention to the lesson, or have you and Spade been chatting it up this entire period?”

“We were totally listening!” Ace insisted. “If you happened to hear us talking, it was only cuz we were sooo into the material. We started to speculate on our own, y’know? Real riveting stuff you’re teaching here!”

Deuce stared blankly at him. “What? That’s not what we were… OUCH!!” He winced at the hard kick Ace delivered to his leg under the desk.

“Is that so? Then surely you will be able to answer my question.” Trein stiffly folded his arms. “Tell me, what is the name of the prince from the Southern Isles who proposed to the Snow Queen’s younger sister?”

“Oh, that! Uh… Gee, gimme a sec to check my notes and I’ll get back to ya!” (His notes were, in fact, blank.)

Trein’s expectant stare bore into him. “Well? I’m waiting.”

Ace gulped.

He was really in it now.

[misc-obeyme]

Could I request a short fic or drabble with Barbatos and a tall masc mc who’s taller than the entire cast + a little bit of an endearing asshole, at least to Barbs? Mc is a bit standoffish but he really likes helping Barbs with anything.

Hi there, anon! Sorry for the huge delay on this. I hope you still see it!

Not sure if I managed the "endearing asshole" thing, but I did my best! I wanted to put them in a setting where MC had a chance to help Barbatos out, so hopefully this is close to what you were looking for!

Barbatos x masc!MC (I think you could read it as gn but there is a use of "he" and the MC is crazy tall lol.)

Warnings: none~

You stood in the entrance of the Demon Lord’s Castle with your arms folded. You had been summoned to have dinner with Lord Diavolo, who was currently discussing something with Barbatos in hushed tones. You tried not to tap your foot impatiently as you waited for them to shift their attention to you.

When they finally did, Diavolo clapped his hands and grinned at you. “I’m so glad you could make it tonight, MC!”

He was almost as tall as you. Almost. It continued to be an endless source of amusement to him that you were taller than he was. His perpetual excitement was both annoying and slightly endearing.

“Did I have a choice?” you asked, your voice and expression somewhat monotone. You were carefully not looking at Barbatos.

“You always have a choice, MC!” Diavolo insisted.

“Right, sure,” you said.

“Barbatos is going back to the kitchen to finish preparing the meal,” Diavolo said. “You can wait with me in the dining room or you can accompany him. I’m sure he would appreciate your help.”

“Ah, that is unnecessary, young master,” Barbatos interjected.

Diavolo was grinning still. He almost exuded an aura of knowingness. He would probably wink at you dramatically except that it would be too obvious. He was scheming to get you alone with Barbatos. You considered saying you’d go with Diavolo to the dining room, just to throw him off. But you really did want to help Barbatos.

You turned to Barbatos. “It’s fine,” you said shortly. “I’ll help you.”

“I am perfectly capable-“ Barbatos began.

“I’m sure you are, but isn’t it nice that MC wants to help? You wouldn’t refuse him now, would you?” Diavolo asked.

You glanced at Diavolo to see a puppy dog look that made you roll your eyes behind Barbatos’s back.

Barbatos sighed. “Very well. Come along, MC.”

You didn’t mind leaving Diavolo behind, following Barbatos as he brought you into the kitchen. He put you to work immediately, stirring a delicious smelling soup of some kind. You didn't ask about it, mostly because you knew it would likely be full of odd Devildom ingredients that you weren't familiar with anyway.

The little Ds were scampering around here and there, being more of a nuisance than assistance. Barbatos took it all in stride, stepping around them deftly whenever he needed to. He moved through the kitchen by intuition and you thought he could probably do it in his sleep if he needed to.

After a little while, you looked over to see Barbatos frowning up at a high shelf in one of the cupboards. He wasn't attempting to get anything out of it, just contemplating it as though he was trying to decide the most effective way of getting whatever it was he needed.

You watched as he lifted himself on his tiptoes and reached up an arm. His fingertips brushed against a serving platter. It was leaning against a punch bowl and as you watched him try to inch it out bit by bit, you could see that the bowl would fall in a matter of seconds.

You left the soup and strode across the kitchen, catching the punch bowl before it could smash onto Barbatos's head.

Barbatos looked up at you, his eyes wide in surprise. "Oh," he said and the tone of his voice was weak. He was very close, your bodies not quite touching. If you simply turned a little, you would be pressed against him.

"Be careful," you said. You pushed the punch bowl back into place and retrieved the serving platter with ease.

You handed the platter to Barbatos, but didn't let go as he gripped the other end of it. "You should've just asked me to get it."

Barbatos blushed beautifully. "I didn't wish to trouble you."

You let go of the platter and returned to the soup. "It's no trouble. I… like helping you. With things."

You glanced over your shoulder to see Barbatos looking positively stunned. And then he smiled, sweet and delicate and full of a fondness you didn't often see directed at you.

"Thank you, MC," he said as he set the platter down and began to arrange food on it. "I will keep that in mind."

And he did, after that. You noticed when Barbatos always made an effort to ask for your help, even with simple things. And you were always rewarded with that gentle smile.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!