#my little toy soldier <3

[secondary-colorentimy]

ok so firstly: merry christmas (well christmas eve) to all who celebrate and happy holidays for those who dont >0<

and secondly: a fact about me which i believe i have 100% stated before online, the nutcracker is my FAVORITE ballet!!!! so heres Rook as the nutcracker, there WAS supposed to be a clara Vil to accompany him but the fates didnt allow it (i wasnt liking the sketches i was making 😞) so perhaps in the future i shall reunite them but for now take him <3

[leek-inherent]

Here’s my drawing of the Rostov siblings as my little ponies! It was bound to happen. The top row is Natasha and Petya, the bottom row is Nikolai, Vera, and Sonya.

I also have sketches of a bunch more war and peace characters as ponies, which I will get around to drawing. Let me know if there are any characters you specifically want to see from me :)

[emile-hides]

Sorry I can’t get into Goncharov I’m busy thinking about a black panther that’s so full of Autism

[scattered-winter]

you want to suck his dick. I want to sink my teeth into him and make his eyes bug out like a chew toy. I want him to make the SQUI-SQUEEEAAAAK sound when I squeeze him. we are not the same

[rowarn]

afab!reader, no prns, praise, edging, wet&messy, könig using ur clit as a fidget toy <3

könig, a trained lethal soldier, who suffers from anxiety. you would never know if you didn't know what you were looking for.

his biggest tell, for you, is the way he fidgets. with you.

you're like his own personal little fidget toy. his hands are always on you, kneading and squeezing your skin. most times you don't mind, you rather like having him touching you — your thighs, your waist, your butt, wherever he can get his hands honestly.

but sometimes...his hands wander. it's mindless, truly.

his eyes fixated on the tv playing some random show he decided he wanted to watch. but you couldn't pay attention, not when one big hand was shoved up your shirt groping your breasts and the other was haphazardly stuffed into your sleep shorts and under your panties.

he's toying with you so mindlessly, callused fingers sliding over your clit that has grown increasingly slippery with how wet you've become. occasionally he dips down to prod at your slick entrance.

his movements have no rhyme or reason. he's not even moving very fast. just sloppy back and forth flicks and occasionally he simply taps his fingers against the little bud that has grown so sensitive from his playing. sometimes, when something interesting happens on tv, he stops completely until the desire the fidget returns to him.

you're sitting with your back against his chest, situated between his spread legs sprawled cozily on the couch. he can't see the heated, dazed look on your face from the come-and-go pleasure he inadvertently gives you. he's edging you without even realizing it, full attention still focused on the damn tv. he isn't even hard.

that thought alone is enough to make you clench around nothing. he's really just playing with you like a little toy and that thought is so hot to you. it makes you cheeks burn in embarrassment as you continue to leak into your panties.

if you listen close you can hear with wet clicking noise that comes with his movements. your eyes roll back in your head as that sound alone has your back arching but you quickly settle yourself down, not wanting to tear his attention from the tv — he so rarely had time to settle down and just enjoy tv, you didn't want to disturb him.

the episode he's watching ends and you cast a hopeful glance up at him but he's waiting for the next episode to start and it makes you whine against your own wishes. but your clit is so hard and twitchy from being edged that it's actually hurting and you're so wet now that your panties are uncomfortably sticky.

it's your whine that gets his attention, pretty blue eyes flicking down to your face where he finally sees the desperate way you're looking at him, teary eyes and swollen lips from biting them to keep quiet. you can see in his eyes when he registers how soaked you've gotten his fingers and he has the audacity to look sheepish.

"ah, my sweet..." he whispers, ears tinged pink, "i-i'm sorry, i did not realize..."

he moves to pull his hand out of your panties and you whine again, grabbing his wrist with both hands to stuff him back down. your nails bite into his skin and he stops trying to pull away, instead pushing his hand back down and it's then that he fully resisters how wet you are.

"don't stop, please...i-i've been so close..." you pitifully beg and he takes pity on you. how precious of you, he thinks.

"i'm sorry, my love," he coos, fingers starting to work once again — properly this time with quick little circles on your clit, "i'll make you cum for being so good for me."

you can't even formulate words, instead nodding and spreading your legs even further apart, your feet on either side of his legs. he hums softly in your ear, chin hooked over your shoulder as he watches his hand move under the fabric of your shorts.

he spreads your sticky folds apart and begins to swirl messily around your clit, occasionally lightly tapping against the bud just to watch the cute way your thighs twitch at the feeling. you reach back and clutch his t-shirt in your fists to ground you. his cock throbs, churning up quickly, at the loud, wet noise of him playing with your cunt.

it doesn't take long at all before your stiffening against him and twitching in his lap as you cum with a cute little gasp of his name. he moans softly in your ear as he feels your clit throb under the pads of his fingers. you let out the loveliest moans that has his cock hardening fully against his thigh.

when you slacken against his body, aftershocks making you twitch periodically as you pant, he's tempted to stop but the fact you had sat there so sweetly and let him practically torture you while he watched his show made him want to make it up to you.

he sees the excitement in your eyes when his fingers dip lower and begin to press into you and he can't believe just how sweet you are. your so sticky and wet with the amount of cum he worked out of you with such ease.

"let me really make it up to you, my little one..."

[yawnderu]

Lorelei — Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader | Part V

1 2 3 4

Synopsis: Aware of the way his lifestyle doesn't align with your dream life and unwilling to quit his life as a soldier, Simon breaks things off with you. It isn't until a year later that he sees you again, a tiny carbon copy of him held in your arms.

This chapter can be read as a one-shot without having to read the whole story! :)

"Are you staying for Christmas?" You ask casually, decorating the cookies you baked with Simon's help. Your daughter is sleeping peacefully in her crib, a small Santa Claus onesie on her, preparing her for the celebration even when there's still a few hours left.

"You want me to?" He asks with a raised eyebrow, brown eyes fully focused on decorating the head of one of the cookie figures, steady hand drawing a skull pattern with ease.

"It's her first Christmas, I think she'd like having her father around." I want you around as well. He's lucky you're focused on decorating your cookies, missing the way his face lights up with a proud smile. It's a lot of progress.

''Right. I got you both some presents in the car.'' He washes his hands on the sink, giving his daughter one last look before leaving the house, trying to gather as many of the gifts he bought as possible. ''Some presents'' was clearly an understatement— he has been building a pile of gifts for months, his car full of boxes and bags for both you and your little girl.

''Jesus Christ.'' You wash your hands and go help him as you see him struggling to carry the pile, taking some from him and putting them under the Christmas tree.

''There's more in the car.'' He seems almost sheepish as he confesses, giving him a small pat on the arm as you go outside to help him. You almost laugh as you look inside, the entire backseat full of presents. It's almost ridiculous, yet so charming how much he wants to make both of you happy, knowing how much it the holidays mean to you, especially now that you have a daughter.

''Isn't this... a bit overkill?'' You joke, earning you a playful pat on the ass now that your arms are busy. You miss the kick thrown his way, jogging after him with a smile when he playfully gets on the other side of the couch to avoid you getting revenge.

''I still got one more present coming, but that's for later.'' He walks back to the kitchen once he made sure you weren't going to kill him for patting your ass.

''I swear to God, Simon, if it's another d—'' He interrupts you by smearing frosting on your cheek, shooting you a cheeky smile that gets erased the moment you do it back— smearing way more than you should have all over his cheek.

''Bastard.''

Your baby was up by the time it was midnight, excited to see her mum and dad opening up presents and even joining in, tiny hands clearly struggling with the wrapping paper, yet somehow managing without help.

''Strong girl, like her mum.'' You smile softly at his words, looking at the way your daughter stares curiously at one of her last presents; a cactus activated by sound.

''Say 'hello'.'' Simon says, getting closer to the toy until it activates, dancing around and lighting up. Astrid looks confused as she looks at it, brown eyes looking up at you before looking back at the toy.

''Hello.'' He repeats, a warm smile on his lips when the toy starts dancing again, much to your daughter's confusion. She babbles at it, tiny hands reaching out to touch it once it starts moving and playing back her sounds, giggles escaping her lips as the toy imitates her laugh.

Simon's phone vibrates in his pocket, getting up from the couch before looking down at his phone with twinkling eyes.

''My mate's here, I'll be right back.'' He doesn't wait for you to reply, already out of the house before you can even say anything. Your focus is back to your daughter, happy that she enjoys playing with the toy rather than being scared of it like you've seen in videos online. Brave girl she is, not a single lick of fear in her.

Simon comes back a minute later, holding a big German Shepherd that can definitely walk on its own. You give him a questioning look as he sets it on the floor, holding his collar just in case.

''Absolutely not.'' You try to protest, yet your gaze softens when you see Astrid crawl to the dog.

''Wa-wa!'' She points out, tiny hands reaching up to pet the dog the same way you've taught her, gentle. The dog doesn't react much besides laying down on the floor for your daughter to pet it, making it much easier for her.

''His name's Riley, he's a retired K-9. Look, I'll pay for his food and even for someone to come take care of him when I'm not here, I just... want you to be safe.'' There's hints of pleading on his tone, eyebrows slightly furrowed as he looks at you.

''... I'll take care of him.'' You say with a small sigh, knowing Simon wants nothing else than for both of his girls to be safe, especially when he's deployed.

''We gave him extra training to deal with kids and emergencies. Big geezer's patient and good.'' He keeps trying to sell it as if you didn't say yes already, a small giggle escaping your lips before giving him a reassuring smile.

''We'll keep him, don't worry.'' You crouch down to pet the dog, who is clearly enjoying the attention from your daughter, allowing her to rest on his side while petting his head.

There's a smile on his face as he looks down at his family, hands fumbling with the small box in his pocket.

[PREVIOUS]

taglist: @skulfan1 @survivalshxt @ghostslittlegf @yaebaal @thecubanator2 @juliediets @shescabob @kenz-ee @lothiriel9 @dragonstoneshortcake @lunamoonbby @alfie2401 @perfectus-in-morte @mxtokko @cloufie @killergoddess97 @imaracoon @thepurpleaccount @silas-222 @actuallyhiswife @havoc973 @catkatchuck @preeyansha

[mechanisedbrainrot]

MECHANISMS REF IMAGE MASTERPOST

Okay, so I put together refs for each of the mechs as best I can. I tried to avoid anything in a show lighting, but sometimes it can't be helped. Notes will be underneath each section

Whole cast

Ivy is the only character leaning on the wall in the second image, but is roughly as tall as Ashes

Jonny D'Ville

Jonny in earlier shows like TTBT wears a black shirt underneath instead of the white. He occasionally has red or black painted nails and his goggles are either black or bronze. He has a black 7 of diamonds. He often holds a mic - which is a Shure Super 55

Drumbot Brian

He usually has just the flower in his hat, but sometimes it's replaced with RAM or his drumsticks. His goggle has a very small crack at the base. The rings seem to be a bit of a motherboard and screws? The visible heart is something I can only find in one picture, but it's cool

Gunpowder Tim

Sometimes wears jeans instead of dark brown trousers. His eye scars are more geometric than Jonny's, and he has dark eye shadow around the eyes where Jonny uses just eyeliner

Raphaella la Cognizi

The top is three layers: a white/cream shirt, a brown puffy shirt and a a top layer which has a halter neck. Occasionally one or both of the undershirts won't be worn (see HNOC liveshow). Tights can be blue or black. Light up wings from DTTM

The leggings/tights are sometimes black and sometimes deep blue

Ivy Alexandria

A few different outfits, in liveshows they're also wearing some outfits not shown here - but always black and red with a waistcoat of some kind.

Nastya Rasputina

The necklace is a little cat :3

Marius von Raum

Kneepads in DTTM. The cards are a jack and ace of hearts. Necktie either has a white or gold pattern on it, but they don't always wear it. The green jacket has a tailcoat

The Toy Soldier

Hair varies a lot. Sometimes it's worn down, in a ponytail or hidden under the hat. Sometimes nails are painted red or black

Ashes O'Reilly

In live shows they often wear this eyeliner which has thick bars that go behind the ears - but I couldn't find any clear pictures of this. Though their outfits changes, always mostly black with some red in the hair

Dr Carmilla post can be found here

I hope this was in some way helpful to anyone who wants to draw the mechanisms. If you have questions feel free to ask me in the ask box and I will do my best to answer them and provide some photos <3 have a great day

[lila-lou]

✨Nothing he couldn't handle Pt. 1/3✨

Summary: You finally tell Ben why you won't let him in your panties.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, touching and teasing, anxious Reader

Word Count: 2206

A/N: English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

“Damn it!”, you muttered as you searched the fridge for something to eat. You should have been asleep by now, but you were still full of adrenaline after the last mission you completed just 4 hours ago. Everyone else had been in their rooms for about two hours while you tiptoed around the kitchen in your pajama shirt, desperately looking for a little snack.

You've been a member of the Butchers team for 6 months now. Well, more or less a member. You didn't fight, that wasn't your thing at all, but you had a lot of skill when it came to profiling Supes and figuring out what made them tick, when they lied and what they planned to do next. You worked for Vought, for a 4 year training, until the Tower crashed. In just 2 years, you had learned more about Supes and their profiling than other people did in ten years. You were by far the best in the field, but most importantly, you couldn't be bought and had a strong dislike for Homelander, which was why Butcher showed up on your doorstep six months ago and had Hughie begging you to join the team. The Supes and everything that came with them stopped scaring you a long time ago. You were already too jaded. Well, except for one small aspect.

After agreeing, you stayed in your apartment for a few more weeks, but you quickly realized that wasn't an option at all when you narrowly avoided being split lengthways by Homelander.

Since then you have lived with the other boys, Annie and Kimiko. After the incident between Homelander and Soldier Boy, Annie also made the decision to move in with Hughie to stay with the boys and protect him.

"If you bend over a bit more, I swear to you, I'll rip those damn thin panties off your little ass", Soldier Boy muttered as he leaned against the kitchen island with his arms crossed. "Shit! Stop scaring me!", you squealed a little too loudly, standing back up and clutching your yogurt tightly in both hands. "And by the way… eww! Everything that comes out of your mouth is fucking disgusting”.

Soldier Boy just rolled his eyes and leaned back a little more. Your gaze wandered over his bare torso as you unconsciously bit your bottom lip.

Soldier Boy had been after you since you moved into the apartment you shared. You were the new nice toy he couldn't have. And that very fact made him want you even more.

Of course you couldn't deny damn fine Soldier Boy was, to be honest you actually developed feelings for him over the last few weeks but after the countless accidents and even deaths that occurred when Supes and humans had sex you were just too afraid to let him get to you. As long as Ben was a few healthy inches away from you, your mouth was huge and your attitude even bigger, but as soon as he came closer and touched you, you flinched. Maybe Vought simply shouldn't have assigned a young girl in training to the department that dealt with the most egregious deaths, caused by supes. You hadn't even lasted five months there when you begged Stan Edgar himself to let you join the profiler team.

"You're horny, aren't you?", he grinned knowingly. “Your heart is beating almost as fast as it did, when I kissed you for the first time”. Just the thought of it made your knees weak. You let Ben get close to you twice, but both times you stopped when his hands slid over your hips to your ass.

“No, I’m not”, you grumble and start eating your yogurt, your back leaning against the kitchen counter, facing him.

“C´mon, Sweetheart. I promise you’ll fucking love it”, Ben pushed himself off the kitchen counter and took two steps towards you. You immediately tensed up and pushed yourself back even more.

“Ben…”, you whispered as he stood right in front of you. When his big hand cupped your cheek, you thought your heart would explode. “What do you have to lose?”, he murmured, tilting his head down until his lips touched your neck. As your heartbeat picked up again, he stayed in his position, waiting for some kind of reaction from you.

“My life”, you breathed.

Ben immediately pulled his head back and looked at you, confused, his eyebrows furrowed.

“Do you think I’ll get you pregnant? You´re fucking stupid? Yeah, I kinda like you, but a child would be too much, don't you think?". Ben had absolutely no idea what you were talking about.

Since you were no longer surrounded by him, you had found your voice again. It was like your brain finally had oxygen again.

"What? No! I did not mean that! Of course having a child would ruin my life, at least for now, but that’s not what I meant!”.

Now Ben just looked more confused. His eyes were on you as he tried to understand you. He couldn't understand why you put him off for weeks. He was nice to you, talked to you and even started watching that stupid show about demons and other supernatural crap. And yet you didn't let him get close to you. He was allowed to kiss you twice, that was it. You were a damn tease and he was starting to lose his nerve.

“Then tell me what you fucking mean, Tom Hardy”.

Slightly overwhelmed, you groaned and let your head fall back before you answered. You knew Ben wouldn't let go, if you didn't finally tell him why you were so reserved.

“I’m scared, okay?”, you confessed, still not able to look at him. However, you could hear the surprise in his voice.

"Wait, what? I know you’re not a fucking virgin anymore, so why should you be afraid?”.

It took a few minutes and admonitions from ben, before you finally told him why.

When you finally made it, you looked intently and expectantly at the Supe in front of you. His face slowly relaxed, but his gaze still remained unreadable to you. However, when a slight grin crept onto his lips, you shook your head in annoyance, grumbled "I definitely don't have to let you laugh at me" and started to walk out of the kitchen, but Ben grabbed your wrist. "Fucking Relax, dollface. I’m not laughing at you", he chuckled, but immediately let go of you as your heart beat faster again. With his lips pursed to hide his grin, he raised both hands apologetically.

Slightly offended, you crossed your arms over your chest and looked at him without saying a word. Ben took a deep breath before speaking.

“Do you really think I would hurt you?”, he asked, still smiling slightly.

“You’re not exactly known for your self-control, Soldier Boy”, you replied sharply, narrowing your eyes.

“Oh Sweetheart, believe me. It takes more than a nice tight pussy to make the first fucking super explode". That started the next discussion. It was back and forth, like the last few weeks.

“Okay, how about you sleep in my bed tonight. Just sleep. And if you're still alive tomorrow, you'll have your proof", Ben suggested at one point.

The thought of sleeping with Ben in his bed was both exciting and frightening, but you knew there weren't many options left before he would eventually give up on you. You tapped your folded forearm thoughtfully.

"Only sleeping?", you asked cautiously after a while.

"Ugh… promise?", he replied annoyed.

A few more moments passed before you forced yourself to say it and finally nodded.

"Okay. Maybe that’s not such a bad idea”, you murmured.

Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head, but couldn't help and let a small, genuine smile appear on his lips. When he started walking but you still stopped, he whistled to you, which finally broke you out of your trance. With a few quick steps you caught up with him and walked nervously next to him. When you got to his bedroom door, Ben roughly pushed the door open as usual and waved his arm for you to move on. In fact, it was the first time you were in his room. Your eyes scanned everything as Ben watched you expectantly. You were pretty sure you wouldn't sleep a wink.

As expected, his room smelled of alcohol, weed and a hint of his perfume. Ben walked past you and gently ran his palm over your back, but only for a split second. He sank onto his bed, pulled his legs up and leaned his back against the headboard of the bed. His hand reached for the joint he had started on the nightstand.

"You should take a hit, it would help you relax", Ben lit his joint before taking a deep drag.

“Yeah, I’d rather not", you snorted, continuing to look around the room. Your gaze stopped at the top shelf next to the bed. As you stretched, your shirt riding up and Ben getting a perfect view of your perfect ass, he felt his cock twiching in his sweatpants. Maybe he shouldn't have been abstinent for three weeks when he really had no other choice. He couldn't get you out of his head for days. He had tried having fun with other women several times, but even with his cock deep in a slut's throat and the idea of ​​the bitch being you, it just wasn't working.

“Ewww Ben, are youfor real?”, you pulled out an erotic magazine from 1971. “Gosh, there’s more hair than skin”, you grimaced as you flipped through the pages.

“Well, different times, doll". His gaze traveled from your face, down your body and back to your eyes. “I bet your pussy is perfectly shaved and fucking smooth", he licked his lips, keeping eye contact with you. Your cheeks immediately turned bright red because Ben hit the mark.

“C'mere”, Ben said in his deep voice, putting an arm around your waist and expertly pulling you onto the bed. Landing on your butt, you let out a short squeak of surprise. Ben focused on your heartbeat and breathing as he continued to hold you. Your back was pressed against his bare chest as he still leaned against the headboard.

"How does that feel?", he whispered against your ear, one arm wrapped around you as his free hand slowly stroked down your side to your thigh.

“I… I don’t know”, you whispered shakingly after a few seconds.

Ben scoffed before pressing a light kiss to your pulse point. “Relax, doll. Focus on my touch, not your fucking thoughts”, he breathed against your neck, but no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t calm your nerves. “Ben…please…You promised”, you tried to push Ben’s arm away from your waist.

“Fiiiiinee”, he groaned annoyed, releasing you from his grasp.

Ben slid further down so he was lying and reached for his phone. He went through the news as if nothing had happened while you still sat rooted to the spot.

“You want to sleep sitting fucking up?”, he murmured, not watching from his phone.

Grumbling, you lay on your side, your back to Ben, and pulled the blanket up to your neck. “Goodnight”, you said quietly, closing your eyes. Ben glanced over at you for a moment before putting his phone away and raising an arm to wrap it around you, but then quickly let go. Ben watched you for a few minutes before lifting the blanket and laying under it too.

When you still hadn't fallen asleep after about 30 minutes of Ben just listening to your heartbeat, you opened your eyes again. “Ben?”, you breathed, barely audible.

"Hmm?".

“Can I try something?”.

“Whatever you fucking want”, he grumbled tiredly.

You took a deep breath before turning to him and looking at his face. Your hand slowly moved to his upper arm and lingered there for a moment before pressing yourself closer to him.

"Can you hold me?", you whispered.

Ben was definitely not the soft type and by now he would have kicked any other woman out of his bed, but like he had been doing for the last 6 months, he made an exception for you.

"Women. Just can't fucking decide", he grumbled, his eyes still closed. His hand reached under your ass and pulled you as tight as he could with a firm tug, knocking the air out of your lungs. Your face was on his chest, next to your hand, while your right leg lay directly over his lap.

"That's okay?".

“I think so”, you answered him as his hand went under your shirt to your lower back and he held you tight. “Feels kinda nice”, you admitted sheepishly, breathing in his distinctive scent.

"Good. Now shut your mouth and sleep. I’m fucking tired”, he grumbled, starting to rub small circles over your soft skin with his thumb.

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰 Would you like a second part? Been thinking about giving Ben what he wanted from (y/n) for months.😏

-

Part 2

[gremlingottoosilly]

All i can picture is monster konig tossing his new born chile into the ocean and be like “ INTO THE WILD ELDRICHLING AND ITS SURVIVAL OF THE FITTEST” lol🤣

And mrs konig is terrified bc why dud u just throw my 3 children into the wild like that—

But lets be real it was probably how he was raised. Tossed into the ocean and abandoned but his parent.

Exactly! This man doesn't have parental issues because he never knew his parents. Case closed. Our girl is terrified(( she just went through months of hell, with all of those eggs inside and long hours of pushing them all out only for Konig to haul her over his shoulder and drag her to toss the eggs into the ocean/let the other monsters take them as a means of raising soldiers( she would be so so disappointed and sad, and Konig just don't understand why she is behaving like this, it wasn't even human children! He can't understand our emotional turmoil, but he knows that humans are weak and soft, so he will try his best to accommodate you. He will try to find some plush toys to make you care of them, would softly hug you every time you're alone, and will fill you with new eggs as soon as possible!! His pet wifey is crying so much over losing her children, he will have to drag her to whatever government facility is raising those little soldiers so she will see that they're actually fine!! it's okay, they are raised to be war criminals just like their father! If Konig feels particularly charitable, he might let her play with hybrid children...only as a means of setting her up to be a good mommy! Horangi's children from his little incubator are literally hybrid tiger kittens, and Konig is always very jealous when we play with them instead of laying with our master(

[agoofyannoyancetolaw]

debt

a/n: a goofy lil graves post for my goofy lil graves enjoyers. If there’s any errors I wouldn’t know because I’m too tired to check

minors DNI

Too many drinks. Too many bets. Too many lost clients and personal savings going into shadow company- lead graves to something he promised never to do. Losing his pride, at a strip club no less, with only a cowboy hat and a black mask on, as well as some assless chaps and leather gloves, the feeling of his bare chest in the cold air of the club making the hair at the back of his neck stand up.

he could practically feel the burn of the eyes of people looking at him as if he was a toy or a pretty little housewife to take home- but he started to like it, having attention on him even if it was more as a showpiece then a commander, and the free drinks at the bar weren’t helping his ego.

he could hear some men whistle him over, to which he attempted to ignore despite it being his job.. his eyes instead focusing on you at the very back booth- one of his own men no less. And you were looking right back at him, blissfully unaware that the masked cowboy was your commander.

and of course, you had to whistle him over- he was just to pretty not to :(, his movement going from ego filled to nervous on minutes as he sat next to you, feeling your hand slide around his waist, and feeling you softly pull him onto your lap. He could feel your bulge against the thin jeans under his chaps, the warm sensation making him blush in embarrassment and humiliation but his member going hard none the less.

he felt so dirty. He wasn’t raised like this, let alone with one of his own men for some cash, but his mind couldn’t focus on that thought for too long as he heard you whisper “how much would it cost for a- private dance in my hotel room, hm?”.

your voice made him gulp- but money was money, so he agreed for a surprisingly low amount, hopping a cab with you and ending up laid out on the white sheets.

his hands clawed at the sheets as he felt you work him open with two digits, the cold lube on your fingers making him whine as you stretched him open enough that it wouldn’t hurt, before pulling down your boxers and sliding into him slowly, making him feel every inch until he was begging for you to move inside him, his voice muffled and whiny, slowly replaced with moans as he felt you thrust against his prostate and feeling your hands holding him down.

he could only imagine what his soldiers would think of him if they found him like this, being fucked by his own soldier for money while in a mask- his mind only snapping out of the thoughts when he felt you speed up, his walls clenching around you so hard as you bucked into him, your pace uneven as you chased your relief.

he came all over the perfect white sheets, ruining them and his torso with cum as you continued to thrust into him, finally finishing when your hips jittered to a stop and his hole milked your cock- him fainting right after from pure tiredness and waking up with money on the nightstand and your phone number scribbled on his thigh..

with the words ‘see you on duty, commander <3’ sprawled on his other thigh, making him blush a deep red as he realized you figured out who he was

[lilacliquors]

ik it's late but this has been in my head all say so have a triple threat easter special <3

you wear 🐰bunny ears🐰 on easter headcanons ( butcher, homelander, soldier boy )

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ BUTCHER

he wasn't expecting it, easter was just another day since you had no kids, but you decided to spice things up

so he enters your bedroom after a long day at the office with the boys to see you in bunny ears one of his shirts, unbuttoned all the way down, and his favorite pair of red panties

needless to say, he drops whatever he's holding and walks to you in a daze, eyes raking over your figure with his mouth open slightly

"all this for me?" he asks, and you nod, toying with the ends of his shirt, moving it ever so slightly to expose your chest

he's done for then, and soon his shirt, your panties, and even the bunny ears are on the floor, and the bed is creaking

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ HOMELANDER ( JOHN GILLMAN )

easter was a holiday that made no sense to john, rabbits and chocolate and maybe christ? he should be better at this as an all american hero, but you promised him a surprise, and boy did you deliver

he can't keep his eyes off of you, in your fuzzy pink bunny ears and your silk pink pajamas to match, his mouth practically waters

he takes his time with you, undressing you slowly because it isn't every day you dress up like this for him, and he appreciates the gesture

he wants you to keep the bunny ears on, he thinks you look adorable and, dare he say it, innocent, even as he has you bouncing on his cock, moaning and gasping

it's the dawn of his newest nickname for you, his little bunny

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ SOLDIER BOY ( BEN )

ben wasn't much of a holidays guy, the sentimental stuff just wasn't him. but when he caught sight of you in nothing but a bunny ear headband and white lingerie ...

he practically pounces on you, hands roaming your body extra careful so he doesn't tear this lacy number on you, he wants to see it again sometime, maybe under a wedding dress

but once he gets it off of you, he's like a feral animal, making you scream his name as he pounds into you from behind

"thought you could look all cute and i wouldn't ruin you?" he whispers, pulling your back flush against his chest

you two already bring a whole new meaning to the phrase 'fucking like rabbits', he almost wants you to wear the stupid thing again, just on a random tuesday

[idontknowreallyidontcare]

RANDOM COD HC’S FOR MY GIRLS.

- König it’s, how do I even describe him, like, nothing about your body disgusts him. Nothing. He will fuck you sweaty, he will fuck you clean, in a tent, in the middle of a forest, unwashed for who knows how long, at the base, he really doesn’t give a fuck, his love for you is really greater then some unexpected impossibility to be clean and perfect. He loves his little wife in each and every aspect of life <3

- König is dirty and he doesn’t give a fuck. He will eat your pussy, eat your ass, lick your thighs, bite, spit and kiss whatever and whenever he feels like. He’s just a man I guess, and he’ll moan and bitch about it! “Why not!! Please, I’ll eat your ass after if you let me fuck it! Please it’ll feel so good!” And he’ll ask and plead, knowing that you’re not giving it to him on purpose, you want him to either take it himself or just want to overwhelm and overstimulate him so much that he’ll literally ask you on his knees! Such evil little wife he found for himself! Give him your ass please :( he needs it! He wants to be dirty with it.

- König is getting old, his stamina is probably not near as high as it used to be, but he still manages, and if you’re particularly horny and he just can’t meet your needs, he’ll gladly let you use him as a human sex toy. He doesn’t care, ride him till he cries and begs no more, straddle his face and use it to get off until you’re satisfied! Bonus points if you stick a vibrating dildo inside, forcing him to lap at your clit till you cum on his face (forcing? He’s never forced, he’d live between your thighs if you’d let him). He is just a silly little man enjoying his wifey. (Ahem whore ahem)

- Y’all know who else is a whore? Yes, GHOST! Don’t let his mask fool you, don’t let his voice and his body language tell you otherwise, he whines and moans like a bitch the moment you get on top. He enjoys getting trashed around too! Slap him a bit, praise him but not too much, remind him he’s still a whore for letting his silly little wife treating him like this! He will only get harder tho, pleading you to treat him like a bad boy and teach him manners! Grab his chin and force him to look you in the eyes while you ride his cock, he’ll be done in 5 minutes, his cock overstimed and his balls EMPTY!

- Simon may love giving you control, mainly because he lives a live where he always needs to be in control, always aware and attentive, so he likes to be able to leave it all to you, not being the one in charge from time to time feels good, and he’s not scared about it, because he knows that his sweet wife will take care of him… but he does enjoy the power imbalance between you two. He will get hard thinking about you as a soldier, how he’d make you his favorite and use you whenever he feels like it. He’d have you prettily taking his cock from under his desk as he revises documents, or in his private bedroom where he’d eat your pussy and fuck your tits, making you all nice and dirty! He’d fuck you in the communal showers too! Full Nelson while you face the main door, the ecstasy and adrenaline coming from the fear of being seen making the experience lot more exiting. He actually brings you to the base, finds you a pretty uniform and keeps you with him for two weeks. You’re happy about spending time with your hubby, but by the time you both come back home, your pussy’s already sore and used! Poor Simon couldn’t pass upon this chance.

- Simon will use the rare opportunities you shower together to make you squirt. This man invested in the shower installation! You better believe he’s USING IT! He’ll play with your pussy, making you stand while he kneels between your legs, eating and biting your pretty clit, then turning the shower head on, regulating it on a particular pattern for the water to come out, and using it to stimulate your clit while he fingers your and kisses you pelvic area <3

- Listen Price enjoys his blowjobs/handjobs! He enjoys you all fucked up and crying on his cock, still not giving up because you want to pleasure him by all means! Such sweet pretty thing like you, you’d be on your knees for hours if it means making him feel good! He likes to reciprocate tho, that’s why 69 is his favorite and his to go position from when he just wants to savor your lips on his cock, but still wants you to feel good too.

- Price is innocent looking, his smile always sweet and bright, but having him home is always a challenge! He’ll grab, slap and manhandle you around whenever he wants to! Just to show you how easily he can take you everywhere he wants (all consensual ofc). He is for free use, something you agreed upon seeing how high your libidos were. He will rile you up, purposely getting you all wet and heated up, then he’d suddenly let you go and proceed with his tasks. Let’s just say that one day he got on your nerves with his teasing, touching you inappropriately and talking to you like you were a little slut (his slut!), then purposely leaving you there in the living room, horny and pathetic. You found him in the kitchen, completely laid on the floor, his upper body under the kitchen sink, checking the tube. You could not pass upon such rare chance, you get on top of him, and in 3 seconds his cock is out of his pants and pressing against your wet and hot entrance. He is confused for a bit and when you take him inside with one fast thrust, he can’t do anything but let you, he lets you fuck him like that, milking him dry while his torso and head are still under the fucking sink! He can’t even properly see you, just your pussy taking his cock and your tits bouncing! Tsk, he’s love to see your pretty face, all contorted in pleasure, well that’s his punishment for doing this to you I guess! All he had to do was be a good hubby and fuck you when he had the chance to :(

[musicforastylesrestaurant]

I Saw Mummy Kissing Santa Claus.

masterlist || ask me anything <3

my blurb masterlist is here!

authors note - i feel like this idea is really cute and just had to be written down:)

word count - 1.4k

in which, when you and harry are putting the christmas presents under the tree on christmas eve, with harry dressed up in a santa costume just for his own novelty, and share a little moment to themselves, unbeknownst to them that there four year old son arlo, was watching the whole time.

00:13am. 25th December, 2023.

On this whimsical Christmas Eve, the air is infused with the scent of pine and anticipation as you and your husband Harry, donned in a jolly Santa suit purely for his own delight, tiptoe around the cozy living room.

The soft glow of twinkling lights casts a warm ambiance, enveloping the space in a serene holiday magic.

Upstairs in the master bed, your precious four-year-old, Arlo, is lost in dreams of sugarplums and toy-filled wonderlands.

As his dreams weave their gentle tapestry, you and Harry share mischievous smiles, conspirators in the clandestine mission to deliver presents beneath the twinkling Christmas tree.

In the quietude of the night, laughter bubbles between you and Harry, a shared joy that needs no reason. Silently, you exchange glances, finding amusement in the simple joy of being together on this enchanting night. The muffled laughter dances in the air, a secret language spoken in the hushed tones of love.

The presents, adorned with festive paper and ribbons, find their places beneath the tree like treasures awaiting discovery. With each shared giggle, you and Harry weave invisible threads of happiness, wrapping the room in the warmth of familial love.

The task at hand becomes a delightful game of stealth and joy. Harry, in his Santa suit, moves with a festive grace, and you follow suit, your hearts synchronized in the shared delight of creating magic for Arlo. Laughter, sweet and spontaneous, becomes the soundtrack to this festive ballet.

Beside the twinkling evergreen, Arlo's offerings for Santa and his reindeer beckon: a plate adorned with mince pies and a bunch of crisp carrot for Rudolph.

Harry, ever the good sport in his Santa attire, merrily takes a bite of the sweet, spiced pie, savoring the festive flavor with genuine delight.

Meanwhile, you opt for the crunchy carrots, enjoying their crisp freshness. The contrast of flavours mirrors the yuletide spirit, blending the sweetness of the mince pies with the earthy simplicity of the carrots.

The pièce de résistance, however, is the offering of milk. Harry, with a theatrical flourish, lifts the glass to his lips, only to be met with a cringe as the chilly liquid meets his tongue. The milk, left out for Santa's refreshment, bears the unmistakable chill of a night spent waiting. The internal wince is evident on Harry's face, though he valiantly soldiers on, determined not to let a bit of cold milk dampen the festive mood.

As you stand in the hushed glow of the Christmas tree, satisfied smiles exchanged with Harry, a sense of completion washes over you. The presents are arranged, the festive treats enjoyed, and the world outside is wrapped in a blanket of silent snow. It feels like the perfect moment to retire to bed, where dreams of sugarplums can join the night's symphony.

But just as you entertain the idea of slipping under the warm covers, Harry, in his Santa suit, wraps his arms around your waist with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. His lips press gentle kisses against your neck, creating a trail of warmth that contrasts the cool air of the room. You can't help but laugh, a delighted sound that dances in the quietude.

"M’not quite ready f’bed yet," he murmurs against your neck, his breath sending shivers down your spine. "If I go now, I'll just get kicked in the back by ‘Lo, and I'll end up with no quilt."

The unexpected declaration sends a ripple of laughter through you, and you playfully turn around in his embrace. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you meet his gaze with a playful glint in your eyes.

"Well, we can't have that, can we?" you tease, your lips curving into a smile.

In the gentle dance of shared laughter and lingering gazes, you both revel in the magic of the moment. The Christmas lights cast a soft glow on Harry's face, accentuating the warmth in his eyes. His lips meet yours in a brief but tender kiss, a sweet punctuation to the unspoken joy that fills the room.

"M’suppose bedtime can wait a bit longer," he concedes, his arms tightening around you. "After all, who could resist the allure f’a quiet, magical Christmas night?"

In the gentle glow, Harry's eyes meet yours with a magnetic pull, and the world outside seems to vanish. His arms envelop you, creating an intimate cocoon that shields you from the outside world. The soft strains of holiday tunes linger, providing a subtle backdrop to the unspoken language of desire that fills the room.

The air is thick with a sweet tension as Harry's lips find yours in a series of passionate kisses, each one deepening the connection between you. Both of you smiling into each others mouths, your hands find the peach fuzz at the back of head neck, whilst his find habitat on the groove of your bum.

The room transforms into a haven of shared intimacy, where the only language spoken is that of desire, and every touch is a brushstroke in the masterpiece of this moment.

The heat of the moment intensifies as you lose yourselves in the magnetic pull of each other. The world outside continues its hushed existence, oblivious to the crescendo of emotions echoing within the room.

The bed, usually shared with the comforting presence of his parents, felt empty, and a sense of curiosity tugged at his tiny heart. Arlo, with his baby blanket in tow, embarked on a solo journey down the hallway.

The plush carpet beneath his little feet muffled his steps as he approached the top of the stairs. The house was still cloaked in the tranquillity of the evening, and Arlo, with wide eyes and tousled hair, peered down into the living room below.

A strange sound caught his attention, and he instinctively clutched his blanket a bit tighter.

At the bottom of the stairs, a tableau unfolded. His mother, adorned in her pajamas, was locked in an embrace with Santa Claus—or so it seemed. Arlo's innocent gaze widened, his imagination dancing with the possibility that Santa himself had arrived early to share a moment with his mom.

The festive glow of the Christmas tree provided an ethereal backdrop to the unexpected scene.

Unaware that the figure beneath the Santa suit was, in fact, his dad, Harry, Arlo continued to observe with a mixture of awe and confusion.

08:21am. 25th December, 2023.

The Christmas morning sun spilled into the kitchen, casting a golden hue on the day's festivities. As you walked in with Arlo nestled on your hip, the air buzzed with the promise of holiday magic.

However, a quiet tension lingered as Arlo, unusually reserved, gazed around the room with a mix of curiosity and uncertainty.

Harry, donned in a festive apron, stood at the stove, the sizzle of eggs providing a comforting backdrop to the scene. Arlo's silence persisted, his little mind undoubtedly preoccupied with the mysterious encounter from the previous night.

As you settled into the kitchen routine, the atmosphere held a subtle undercurrent of curiosity. Arlo's wide eyes shifted between you and Harry, his silence becoming a palpable presence in the room.

The bewilderment in his gaze hinted at the lingering confusion from witnessing the unexpected kiss with Santa Claus.

With each passing moment, the unspoken question hung in the air. Harry, flipping eggs with a practised ease, stole a glance at Arlo, sensing the inner turmoil of his young son. The parental instinct to reassure tugged at your heart as you navigated the morning, your steps mindful of the unspoken query hanging in the air.

After the hearty Christmas breakfast, Arlo, still harbouring the mystery from the previous night, toddled over to Harry.

His little arms reached up, a silent request to be lifted. Harry, ever the doting dad, scooped him up onto his hip, planting a cascade of playful kisses on Arlo's cheek. The room echoed with the sounds of affectionate giggles.

As Arlo settled into Harry's arms, he seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing around to ensure that you were nowhere in sight. Satisfied that the conversation would be just between him and his dad, Arlo took a deep breath, his eyes serious.

"I have something to tell you, Daddy," Arlo announced in a hushed voice, leaning in as if sharing a grand secret.

Harry, playfully intrigued, raised an eyebrow and encouraged him to spill the beans.

With an air of importance, Arlo whispered, "I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus."

The words hung in the air, and a mischievous sparkle lit up his eyes. Harry's reaction, however, was unexpected.

A loud, hearty laugh erupted from Harry's chest, his eyes crinkling at the corners. Arlo, momentarily perplexed, couldn't help but join in the infectious laughter. Harry, wiping away an imaginary tear, managed to compose himself and leaned in with mock seriousness.

Harry brought his face closer to his mini-me and brought his voice to a quiet mock whisper.

“Tell m’more.”

[heliads]

Ok so I saw how you said you wanted to write for narnia in your request guidelines so, imagine if you will:

Reader and Caspian with a sort of rivals to friends to lovers. Charting the transition from "My prince" (Sarcastic) to "My prince" (playfull, joking) to eventually "MY prince" (loving). Hope this makes sense, lots of love <3

when people check the request guidelines <333 also this request was so good that i had the people vote upon it. soldier reader for the win

masterlist

You’re not sure what makes you more angry, the fact that you broke your sword or that the prince was there to see it. If it were not enough of a ruination to your day to have your blade break in half like a child’s wooden toy, if it were not enough to have to retreat through the storms of other fights and clashing metal and skulk to the background to get another, you were witnessed by the one person you detest most of all.

You should not be hating Prince Caspian. He just makes it rather easy to do so. He is the physical embodiment of this world, the crown on high, the savior of your every waking hour, all because he happened to be born into the right family at the right time. It is not his fault that he is one of the most powerful men in all of Narnia, but it is not the result of his labor, either. He is simply the prince, and there is nothing more to say on the matter.

That is quite different from you, then. You had to claw your way up through the ranks, sacrificing skin and sweat so you could eke out a win time and time again. Your trials served you well, gilding your brow with the title of captain of the guard, but it wasn’t like anything was handed to you. No, not at all. Yet, by virtue of his predestined position, Caspian technically has control over every soldier in Narnia. He outranks all of your efforts by the crown put on his head when he was just an infant.

This is the way of the world, and the way that it has always been. It makes no sense for you to hate him so fervently over something he cannot control. Caspian is an easy scapegoat, though, a figurehead for you to heap your regrets upon like laurels. It is not his fault that he was made prince. It is not his fault that you despise him for being one.

You’ve had time to grow accustomed to your life of blood and sweat, however, and today should have been no different. This morning was an amalgamation of at least a dozen different mistakes, though, and that ruined your day before it hardly even started. You woke up a little too late, you snapped at your friends then regretted it half a second later, and now you’ve gone and broken your blade, too.

It wasn’t your best weapon, at least that counts for something. Your finest sword is your most prized possession, and lies in careful hiding back in your quarters. This was merely your practice weapon, one designed to be battered and beaten all in the means of furthering the skills of you and your men.

Still, it stings to see it lying on the dusty ground of the training yard, shiny metal fragments already beginning to cloud over with grime. You sigh, signaling to your partner that you’ll have to abandon the match for now, and carefully pick up the pieces. When you stand, cradling the shards of your sword like a child, you look up and see Caspian of all people staring at you from across the training yard. Evidently he’s arrived just to see your sword fail.

Wonderful timing as always from him. You have to marvel at how he does it. You half think Caspian carefully plans his excursions into the swordsman's arenas when he believes you to be least ready to see him. You meet his gaze for a moment longer, then turn, heading back towards the rows of equipment on the far side of the yard.

You murmur at least half a dozen curses as you go, running them over your tongue like a prayer. The broken pieces of your sword can be turned into the armorer in the hopes that something will become of them, but you highly doubt that. In the meantime, you’ll have to dig up the coin to buy yourself a new sword, and risk damaging your primary weapon in the meantime. How splendid.

A voice sounds from behind you, one that makes you grit your teeth despite the soothing intonations. “You know, if you’re stabbing our own men so hard your weapon shatters, I’m afraid to see what you’ll do to our enemies.”

You grimace to yourself, then turn around to face Caspian, expression resolute. “Fear not, my prince, your men will be spared from me today. I’m sure I’ll have plenty of time to break swords when a battle arises.”

Caspian arches a brow, perhaps at the tone you direct towards his title. “If you speak with that much thrill over the thought of war, I’m beginning to fear that you may not be my best advisor regarding the maintenance of peace.” 

As if he’d ever listen to you long enough to consider you an advisor. The two of you snap at each other’s throats every time you get within shouting range. “Perhaps I just like a chance to fight.”

“I think I’ve noticed that,” Caspian murmurs, bemused.

It takes great strength to keep from glaring at him, strength that fails you by the second. “You’ll have to excuse me, I must go to the blacksmith for repairs.”

His face falls. “You won’t be continuing in the ring today? I had hoped to best you yet again.”

His lips quirk up as he says it, making the insult lose some of its barb, but it still makes your temper flare. “I’m afraid not. Blades are not as easily bought by soldiers as princes, I must see if I can salvage this one before going to the trouble of a purchase.”

Caspian seems half a second of self control from rolling his eyes. “There are more swords in the yard, L/N. Simply select another and we can go for a round or two.”

He gestures towards the training yard expectantly, and you feel the weight of your difference in stations come crashing down around you. Caspian will not stop asking until you fight him, that is his birthright. He does not know what it means to be disobeyed. And, as the captain of his guard, you cannot argue. This you know to be true, even if Caspian is unaware of just how he’s wielding his influence. There is nothing you can do to circumvent him.

You force your expression to go icily cold, devoid of any and all emotion. Even the anger, which was sparking through you so readily before, vanishes from your disposition. Caspian blinks in surprise at the sudden change, more so when you abruptly drop the pieces of your broken blade to the ground, where they send up a small storm of dust.

“Of course,” you say, even-syllabled, “how could I ever think to do anything else? Your word is my command, my prince.”

You pack as much loathing as possible into those syllables. Caspian flinches as if you’ve hit him, and then his confidence is gone, his eyes downcast. “If you don’t want to–” He begins in a whisper, but you’re already moving briskly towards the rows of extra blades.

“I most certainly want to,” you answer him, the borrowed blade seeming to cut into your hand despite the smooth leather grip, “you have asked, and that is all the motivation I should ever need.”

Caspian swallows hard, opens his mouth to say something, but you swing your blade at his head before he can manage it. This is utterly wrong behavior for a soldier towards a prince, but Caspian has never seemed to have a problem with your actions before, no matter how challenging. It’s as if both of your prides are so strong that they could overcome any class barrier set in your way.

Caspian barely parries your sword before it cuts into his head. Grunting with effort, he twists his weapon, forcing you to step back as he disengages, striking towards you in return. Seizing the opportunity, Caspian presses his advantage, taking a few quick steps and maneuvering the two of you further into the training yard and into the designated spaces for fighting.

Words are clearly still clinging to his tongue, begging to be spoken aloud, but this is no longer a place for conversation. It takes everything in you to counter his attacks, to spot when he’s off balance and lunge with piercing precision towards every gap in Caspian’s defense. You may hate the dark-haired prince with every fiber of your being, but you cannot deny that he is skilled. He might be the only one here capable of providing a challenge to you. You might hate him even more for that, or worse, not at all.

Caspian feints to his left, then his right. You ignore both distractions and plunge your weapon straight towards his heart. Expecting your belligerence in regards to his ploys, Caspian parries the strike and returns it with one of his own. You move to take a quick sidestep, but the ground is slick beneath your feet with mud from yesterday’s rain and you stumble. It’s the slightest of missteps, but for someone at Caspian’s level, it is enough.

He lunges forward, and you feel the shadow of the stone wall on your back before he pushes you into it. The rock is cold against your back, driving the air from your lungs. You try to force your way towards the center of the yard again, but Caspian has his sword at your throat, and any movement would lead to you cutting your own neck.

Unwilling to yield quite yet, you stay silent. You and Caspian breathe in and out, the deep gasps for air first discordant and then slowly, steadily, joining in a shared rhythm.

Caspian speaks first, you know he’s been waiting for it. “You hate me.”

You scoff. “You hate me. This is not an exclusive feeling.”

He exhales harshly, exasperated. “Stop deflecting everything onto me. We could have been friends.”

You laugh, tilting your head back to give him a better chance to slit your throat. “You are a prince. I would never have been anything but nothing to you.”

Caspian’s eyes widen. He moves away from you unsteadily, first closer than he’s ever been, then gone, halfway across the yard in what feels like just a second. You let your eyes shudder closed, exhausted from the intensity of the fight but perhaps something more as well. When you open your lids, he is gone. He had just arrived, but he is nowhere to be seen now. That could be no one’s fault but yours. He is not your friend. But. He could be so, so much more. 

Three days later, a gift arrives in your quarters. You unwrap the cloth bindings to reveal a sword nestled within the folds. You can tell at once that it has been perfectly selected for you– the heft is just right for your level of strength, the grip matches your hands exactly, and the edges are razor sharp, ideal for those slashes towards the forearms you’ve been so fond of as of late.

It comes swathed in a rich purple cloth, the sort of color you’ve only ever seen decorating Caspian’s frame as he walks with his troops or speaks to his nobles. An angrier, more bitter part of you wants to reject the gift entirely, to toss it from your room like refuse or return it back to him at once. Still, it is a fine blade, and you know that were you to just pick it up, it would feel exactly right, an extension of your arm into shining metal.

So, the sword joins the rest of your collections, and the purple linen ends up tucked away in your desk, carefully folded into a neat square of color and creases. You cannot explain why you do either, not even to yourself. 

The next time you’re called out with your regiment to guard the prince and some foreign powers on a diplomatic mission, the sword is on your belt, your hand resting on its hilt. Caspian sees and something changes in his expression; a deepening of a smile, a pleased spark in his eyes. For some reason, you cannot hate him for being proud. Not today.

He finds you later, once the crowds have dispersed and he doesn’t have to be a prince, just a man. “What a fine sword that is,” he remarks pleasantly.

You narrow your eyes. “Don’t. Don’t even.”

Caspian spreads his hands, the picture of innocence. “I have no idea what you could possibly be talking about.”

“You had better not,” you grumble.

He nods solemnly. “Of course. Just a random thought, however, it really is a nice blade. It must have been picked out by an exceedingly good swordsman. Perhaps even the best in the castle.”

You should be irritated with him for being so bothersome again. Instead, you find yourself fighting a smile. “It’s a shame, then, that the only swordsman here worth his salt is me.”

Caspian’s mouth drops comically. “That cannot be true.”

“It is,” you reply as casually as you can, “I come to you with only the best information, my prince. Only the best.”

He starts to respond, but something stops him, something that makes him smile quietly. Your stomach flips with the unsettling feeling of having missed out on a joke, but for once, you don’t entirely mind it. Instead, the two of you walk all the way back to the castle, and only when the diplomats arrive again must you be parted. It is not the worst use of your time.

Caspian finds you again two nights later. You’re on a shift guarding a section of the castle walls, which gives you an excellent view of the foreign powers riding away into the darkness. They’ve been here for days now, testing Caspian’s patience like no one else, not even you.

He joins you soon enough, exhaustedly leaning his arms up against the stone battlements. “I think I hate politics,” he murmurs into the night air.

You chuckle, the quiet sound abnormally loud in the darkness. It should make you self conscious, and it does, but not as much as it would for anyone else. The hot prick of awareness in your stomach is both doubly strong and doubly weak because you are next to Caspian; why, you cannot explain, but it is true.

“You are a prince,” you point out, “politics was always something you would have to do.”

Caspian groans. “That doesn’t mean I have to like it. That’s why I always envied you, you know. You got to carry the banner and fight the battles without any political conniving.”

You stare at him in shock. “That cannot be true. No future king could ever want to be a mere soldier.”

He laughs derisively. “As if you’ve ever been a mere soldier. Not to me,” he adds on afterthought, and you’re not sure that it was even meant for your ears, “no, not to me.”

You shake your head slowly. “But I thought you hated me. All this time, you’ve merely wanted to join me in fighting without a care?”

Caspian’s brow furrows. “Hate you? No, no. I never hated you. I never could hate you.”

He straightens up, slowly walking over to you. There is no one else on the castle wall to see you, no one below. Even still, your eyes feel like more than enough of an audience to find some reason to stop this before the pounding in your heart blocks out your ability to breathe properly.

“My prince,” you say, a warning. It doesn’t make him flinch like it used to, a blow grown familiar, worn down to the weight of a feather instead of that of a blade.

Caspian sighs, the listless air leaving him and vanishing just as quickly on the wind. “Don’t tell me you haven’t wanted this. That you’ve never thought about it.”

“I couldn’t,” you whisper, and something in you cracks in half when his face falls, “but you could.”

Caspian’s eyes dart cautiously up to you again. “Are you sure?”

Neither of you have to specify what he means for you to know. “Yes,” you breathe.

You did not anticipate this night to end with you kissing the crown prince of Narnia. That being said, you would not want to have it any other way. There may be foreign dignitaries out there plotting the end of his reign, or political turmoils present to claim most of his time, but tonight, Caspian is yours and yours alone. It makes you smile into him. It makes everything that much better.

narnia tag list: empty for now!

[xo-cod]

O.M.G! I love COD and Garcia from Criminal Minds (she’s my fashion inspo!) so you combine both, I’m on cloud nine!

Remember that episode/s where she got shot by an ‘Angel of Death’ unsub because he thought he was catching on to his crimes and tried/tries to kill her after taking her out on a date?

Well, imagine that happens to Penelope! Reader.

they'd take it so hard :( this can be read platonically/romantically i don't really know anymore LMAO 🤍

posted it again because i didn't like the way the first one looked <3 ooc/rushed!

part two

》》》 after the shooting 《《《

ghost was silent as his knee bounced while he waited for you to wake up, the room silent other than the beeping letting them know you were alive. and the occasional humming from soap who softly toyed with your hair, his fingers gently caressing against your cheek very tenderly. it had been like this for hours until heavy footsteps echoed through the corridors, letting them know the rest of the team were back

"got the bastard back at base" price spoke as he came back into the room with gaz. simon and johnny weren't to be trusted not to kill the man since they needed him alive so they both remained like glue, stuck to your bedside. even when one of the nurses tried to suggest to leave for a few hours to freshen up, ghost shot her a hard stare which made her back off in the same breath.

"she awake yet?" gaz was next, his voice gentle while ghost shook his head. his jaw clenched as his hands gripped the arm rest on the chair. seeing your state, seeing how vulnerable you were, seeing you dance upon the line of life and death and he couldn't do a thing.

"told her not to go on that bloody date. look at 'er now" simon's voice was harsh, angry at himself for not being able to protect you. hell, they weren't even the first on scene. your neighbours had heard the shot and worriedly called the ambulance.

"s'not her fault lt, she didn't know" soap spoke coming to your defence, his hand still cradling your palm in-between his big warm ones.

"christ's sake johnny, she got shot at!" ghost snapped, his brown eyes narrowing at the scot who sighed as he looked back down at you.

you were both the heart and brains of the 141, your intelligent analytical skills saving them more times than they could count but you were always so humble about it. you hadn't looked so frail before, gone were your pretty clothes and your little jewellery pieces. all you had on was a sickly hospital gown, catheters placed in different parts of your body accompanied with a breathing mask over your mouth

"how's the wound?" price interjected, removing his bucket hat as he came closer to the bed. his heart went out to the youngest of the team, it was never easy to see the sight of his soldiers injured and beaten down. it was especially never easy to see his soldiers laying cold on a bed, knowing their attacker was out and about

"she flatlined, messy wound. but one centimeter over and it would've torn right through her heart" soap spoke looking at price who nodded slowly as he came to the side of the hospital bed.

"a fighter" his voice was gentle, his thumb sweeping the apples of your cheeks ever so softly. silent for a moment as he glanced down at you, missing all the little eccentric pieces that made you you. but, you weren't dead. you'd be fine, he knew that. it didn't take the sting of not being able to prevent it any easier but you were a soldier, a capable one at that. you were fine, you were going to be okay

for now, they were to tend to pressing matters that lay for them back in base. and notably, none of them were going to be gentle about it. time was ticking, the quicker they dealt with the matter at hand the faster they'd be back to you again.

"take it easy, pretty. we'll be back soon" price bent down and whispered, his fingers fondly running through your hair before he straightened up with a swift nod and headed out the door to the car

"you're gonna be just fine, mama. i promise you" gaz whispered as he kissed your temple tenderly before leaning back, his eyes hardening as he remembered who put you in this position. the fear and pain you felt and they hadn't been anywhere close to you.

even if you were capable, even if you were one of the most intelligent soldiers on their team, you were the youngest. and each of them had taken you under this wing. someone had messed with you and subsequently, messed with them all collectively. he took a soft breath in, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your palm careful not to knock over the drips before he followed suit like price.

"when i come back, those pretty eyes of yours better be awake bonnie" johnny chuckled sadly, his thumb drifting over the bandage wrapped around your chest as he sighed softly looking back to your sleeping face again. he kissed your cheek hesitantly, too nervous to knock over the breathing mask.

he hated seeing you like this. you had grown to be one of his closest friends here and the fact that he couldn't protect you as well as he thought took a hit on him. soap had always taken things a little harder when it came to you, he couldn't wait to tear the bastard that had messed with you. he stiffened back up and followed the rest of his team out, one last lingering look before he left.

and then ghost eyed you, his brown eyes narrowing a little at your body. you were still, too still for his liking. and though he knew you were alive, he couldn't help but the rise of slight panic at the thought of you dead. it was irrational, he knew, but it happened to him before. being forced into a position he thought could never happen to him and then it did, his worst nightmare a living reality. but he'd be damned if he couldn't do everything in his power to protect you from the same fate.

"i'll be back, lovie. i'll make the sorry bastard pay for what he's done to you," his tone was cold, hard, determined.

"you'll be okay" a soft murmur, the reminder mostly for himself and to calm those nerves. he pulled his balaclava up a little to reveal his scarred lips as he pressed a sweet kiss to your forehead. his fingers gently rubbing your skin, head leaning against your temple very slightly but still enough to feel you. to feel you alive and breathing, knowing that you were here and that you were going to be okay. a minute passed before he straightened himself up and looked at you with a nod.

leaving your hospital room with a new goal in his mind, to make the man pay for everything he ever did.

[yawnderu]

A/N: We made it to 3k less than a month after I reached 2k followers 🥺<3!!

I was genuinely not expecting this when I first made my account, but so far I've gotten so much support and I've met so many lovely people. I'm always reading your comments and reblogs, you mfs are hilarious JFEHJBFEHJB💕Onto the nasty sinful monkey sex now.

Synopsis: tired of working a dead-end job with no rewards, your childhood best friend offers you a job at his company, promising the stress levels are minimal and the pay is good. You accept with no second thoughts, not realizing you were tricked into becoming a stress relief toy for his men.

CW: humiliation, hard sex, gangbang, double vaginal, triple penetration, unsafe sex, creampie, 14 vs 1, cum swallowing, bukkake, spit kink, cockdrunk reader, deepthroat, handjobs, size kink, watersports.

Being a commander who saw his soldiers as family, Graves knew he always had to watch out for his men, reward them for their hard work and loyalty, and what better way to do that than with a sweet little thing like you? Their own personal stress relief toy, who was tricked into taking a job at the Shadow Company, yet so willing to please. So eager.

"You're enjoying this more than you should." He's teasing you, of course, yet his cocky expression does nothing to help the pooling warmth on your stomach. One of the shadows is sitting behind you, gloved hands hooked under your knees to keep your legs open while Graves grinded his clothed boner on your bare cunt, the fabric feeling almost painful if it wasn't for how wet you are.

"Maybe I am." You manage to reply, barely able to speak between whiny moans and soft gasps, his cock rubbing in all the right places, but the stimulation wasn't enough. No, he had been teasing you like this for the past 20 minutes, making his men watch as you became a putty mess in his hand. The shadows were men of discipline and self-control, keeping their hands folded politely behind their backs, ignoring their painful, throbbing cocks until their commander allowed them to use their brand new chew toy.

"I want you to know," He began, hand slipping under your chin firmly to force you to look up at him, hard cock rubbing faster up and down your cunt, pressing into you harder. "That I ain't playin' with you, Stray. My men will do anythin' I tell them to. Last chance to pull out." He warned and you shook your head no, his cocky smile growing even wider as his other hand went to squeeze your tit, looking for any signs of discomfort and much to his delight, seeing none.

"I can take it." The words are more of a reassurance to yourself, gaze drifting around the room and counting the men inside. 14, including Graves. You swallow thickly, nervous eyes drifting back to Graves, who simply raises an eyebrow in return, waiting for you to realize just how fucked up you are if you don't pull out.

"I can take it." You repeat, slowly believing the words more and more. He simply smiles and ruffles your hair affectionately, the same way he always did growing up.

"Attagirl." He pulled away from you and you can see the satisfaction in his eyes, knowing you'll do a good job for him. He nods to his men and they quickly get to work, hands groping you all over, long fingers entering your cunt roughly to the point you're becoming nothing but a whiny, whimpering mess. They're rough and impatient, your wrists being grabbed and forced onto their hard cocks until you're willingly jerking them off, hands barely able to wrap around their thick lengths. It's intimidating, yet so hot to be locked in a room full of hormonal, pent-up military men.

"On your knees." One of them commands, yet you're forced on your knees before you can even try to get up. Four cocks are in front of you and you begin sucking with no hesitation, eyes closing as you give into your role at the company. Your lips wrap around one of them, slowly taking him deeper until he gets too impatient and forces your head down to the base, the gagging noises your throat lets out simply making it feel better.

"Good girl." You don't even know who's praising you, but it's enough to give you the encouragement you needed, starting to bob your head up and down until you're pulled off the cock, a new one being shoved down your throat. They're using you— you know it, and you're letting them. You get passed around, tasting and sucking on different dicks while your hands keep themselves busy, deep moans and groans coming from above you. They get too impatient quick, the man you recognize as Oz wrapping his fingers on your hair, pulling on it until you willingly get up, throwing you into bed and opening your legs wide with brutal force. You look down, eyes widening as you see just jow thick he is.

"You said you could take it, ain't that right?" He uses your words against you, the tip of his cock rubbing up and down your folds, your head dropping back as a moan escapes your lips. That's all he needs for confirmation, hands firmly holding the curve of your waist before he buries his cock to the hilt in one thrust. A pained moan escapes your lips, eyebrows furrowing as your nails dig into his arm— the pretty, long acrylic nails Graves paid for earlier that day.

"Shit... S‐slow down, asshole." The way you struggle to take him is almost cute, a cocky smirk pulling on his lips as he shakes his head no once, holding onto you tighter while he slams in and out of you. You don't have much room to complain before another cock is being shoved into your face, your lips willingly wrapping around the tip, hollowing your cheeks while your tongue circles all over it. Your whiny moans are muffled as you slowly begin to suck more and more, the pleasure of being groped all over and being fucked good slowly getting rid of any hints of regret you may have.

"Fucking slut." Oz says, hand coming up to gently pinch and pull on your nipples while he fucks into you faster. All you can do is nod, tears dotting your eyelashes at the mix of pain and pleasure, using the cock in your mouth to cover up the embarrassing sounds escaping you from being a used like a whore. Your body is manhandled into another position, a different shadow underneath you who wastes no time on fucking into your cunt, filling you just as much as Oz was. Your hands are kept busy jerking off more cocks while your mouth is put into good use again, muffling the moan of protest that threatens to escape when you feel the tip of a dick teasing the entrance of your ass.

"Wait—" You manage to speak when the shadow takes his cock out of your throat to give you time to breathe, only to be interrupted by your throat being forced open again. You close your eyes tightly, trying your best to relax, the folds of your tight hole slowly being eased, the man is being surprisingly gentle for someone who holds so much power over you.

"Good girl." He praises softly, voice deep with desire, yet holding so much care. His hand gently caresses your ass as he bottoms out, giving you time to adjust before his hands rest on your waist, pulling you up and down his cock, the thin layer of skin diving your ass and cunt making the pleasure even greater. It doesn't take much before you're willingly slamming your hips down, moving in your own pace and fucking yourself into the big cocks inside you like a greedy whore, too eager to wait.

"Lovely girl, ain't she?" You can recognize Grave's voice, choosing to ignore it for now as you simply focus on feeling good. It doesn't take long until the men are taking turns with you, wet cunt leaking everywhere, yet none of them seem to care. You wince as you feel a second cock on the entrance of your pussy, nervous, yet eager to please. You don't even have to lift your head to know whose cock it is— fucking Phillip Graves. The man who got you into this situation on the first place... which you're now glad happened.

He's surprisingly gentle as he squeezes his cock into your airtight hole, the pain of the stretch only being overpowered by the feeling of a cock slamming back into your throat, nose hitting dark, curly pubes every single time the masked man makes you deepthroat him. Your whiny moans are mixed in with the lewd, wet sounds of your holes being used and abused. You lost count of how many times you were filled, mind too hazy from all the overstimulation, yet you can register the door closing behind them, leaving you alone with Graves.

''Attagirl.'' He praises, his hand running down the length of your sweaty hair as his soft cock settles into your cum-stained lips, half-lidded eyes looking up at him with curiosity. Your mouth is suddenly filled with a warm liquid and you swallow without thinking about it, eyes closing once he's done pissing into your slutty mouth. He slowly pulls out, putting his cock back in his pants and admiring the mess his men did of your body, covered in cum and small bruises from their strong hold when they were fucking you.

''I got another job for ya. Ever heard of the 141?''