#of course i couldn't leave put peaches

[agdragonfulday]

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@advictoriams @peachzaquiribinx @dbzebra

[yeyinde]

victory lap

“Got a proposition for you, Simon,” the man says, and Simon snorts. He reeks of the same brand of cheap cigarettes as always—stale smoke, day-old tobacco; acrid and unpleasant. It makes his skin itch.  “an’ I told you already, Price. I ain't interested in a team—” “Not a team, Simon.” The look he levels him with is nothing short of malicious. Dangerous. His hackles raise on instinct, everything inside of him hissing to back away. “Got something else in mind.” Then through the door was you. Pretty as a picture— And all his for the night. or: John strikes a deal with young Simon Riley. his cooperation on a team they're putting together in exchange for a night with you. naturally, it goes awry.

18+ SMUT. implied noncon, dubcon. under-negotiated kink. bondage. overstimulation. size difference. size kink. messy, sweaty gross sex. rough sex. unsafe sex. mean Simon. smitten Simon. bullydom!Simon. spit kink. degradation and humiliation. young!Simon (pre-mw2019-2022 when he was still a Seargent; 25-28ish). manipulation. attempts at taming a stray dog that goes as well as you'd expect.

It's John who takes his muzzle off.

Dangles the key on his finger when he kicks open the door, letting his Lieutenant glimpse what lay behind it. Giving a gruff, like what you see? when his eyes finally adjust to the low light flooding in.

It takes him half a second. Enough time to commit the scene in front of him to memory.

It's you, of course.

good dogs get rewards, don't they, Simon?

Waiting for him. Pretty as a picture in sleek silk chiffon ribboned in intricate shibari around your chest, stomach, and thighs. Legs spread on the table; ankles tied down to the sides in nude jute rope. Hands clasped together, fingers laced; wrists tied above your head. The blindfold wrapped around your head is a pale pink ribbon, thicker than the silk on your body. Wrapped twice over your eyes, and tied in a pretty bow behind your head, he imagines.

In the split of your thighs, he finds you already slick. Wet. It drips down onto the table, puddling beneath your ass. The spread of your pussy, glistening in the flushed light; the small, pink vibrator taped to your clit makes his cock twitch. 

"All for me?" He rasps, eyes fixed on your cunt. On how pretty it looks. How inviting. A soft, ripe peach offered in the heat of summer, and he wants nothing more than to sink his teeth into you. Her. "'ow sweet o'you."

And Price, he thinks, eyes slanting sideways as he glances at the man sliding into his chair. It stands to reason that this whole thing, you on a silver platter for a starving wolf, wouldn't have happened if he hadn't seen the look on Simon's face when you first met him. The hunger.

Simon's not stupid, of course. He knew you were off limits the moment Price put his paw on your nape, squeezing once. Owned, claimed. The intention, the message, clear. Mine.

Don't touch.

And the way you lit up, stammering out something about how good it was to meet him, told him everything he needed to know how your willingness to be shackled to his Captain.

But even so—

He couldn't take his eyes off of you.

(and in his intense cataloguing of everything you did, he couldn't help but notice how you kept touching your neck when Price was dragged away for a conversation leaving you all alone in a room rankled down his spine. almost as if you were reaching up to fix a collar—)

The memory alone makes him shudder.

"All yours, Simon," Price drawls from his perch on the throne. Between two fingers, a cigar sits, unlit. Ghost huffs.

The words are a vicious bite to the want pooling low in his belly. "That so?”

The room seems to shake when he steps inside. Floor creaking ominously under his weight. It makes your mouth drop, heavy breaths spilling out between dull teeth. Chest rising and sinking shallowly with a wild sort of nervousness that flits across the expanse of your cheeks, in the tremble of your lower lip. 

Despite your unease, your legs stay open. Held aloft by the rope, he knows, but also—

A testament to how trained you are. 

He prefers his pets wild. Unpolished. Vicious little things that he gets to bring to heel with a sharp bark and rough hand glued to the back of their skulls, pushing their head into the dirt, to the floor, where it belongs. 

Fine china broken at his feet. 

But you—

Manicured. Groomed to perfection. Save for the harsh breaths and the shake in your joints—both an indication of just how new you are at this. A novice. One slowly being crushed under the leather boot of a man who reeks of smoke and whiskey. 

But knowing his captain and the furious need for control, he imagines you're better than some of the seasoned ones he'd come across in his lifetime. No room for errors.

And certainly no forgiveness for them, either. 

His cock twitches again—a heavy, aching weight against his thigh—and he reaches down to cup the thickness of it, crushing the flesh in his palm to stave off the need burning in his loins. The urgency to sink inside of your pretty little cunt rewiring the part of him that likes to mess his pets up first. Ruin them before he takes them. Fucking them to the point of unconsciousness—and sometimes, beyond it. 

But you—

You've been a phantom taste in the back of his throat for months now. A tease between his teeth. Sinking his jowls into you is the only thing on his mind. 

And when you're offered up so enticingly—

Well. 

Price can't blame him much for how badly he's going to ruin you. 

He reaches out, fingers pressing cruelly into the slim, thumb-sized vibrator Price has locked against your clit. A mindless, incessant torture, he's sure. Pushing you over the edge on a constant, unrelenting loop. 

“Messy girl,” he rasps, the starchy fabric of the mask glueing to his balmy skin. 

The reprimand makes you flinch in shame, but the flutter of your cunt belies the contrition that drapes over your brow in a shallow mimicry of sorrow. He can see why Price latched onto you so quickly, and doesn't bother fighting the stab of envy that brims in his chest. 

“Didn't your old man ever teach you any manners?” He mocks, dry and derisively. Quietly amused by the soft mewl you let out, one that only just eclipses the snort from Price. “Daddy's been slackin’, ‘asn’t he? Let his little girl turn into a messy fuckin’ slag.” 

You try to close your legs to no avail, the rope keeping you spread. In part, he thinks, from shame—blistering, burning, and vibrant when it streaks across your face—but mostly from the slick gush that leaks out of your drenched pussy at his foul words. Trying to hide it from him. To keep him from knowing just how much the brassy roll of his ugly words makes your empty little cunt ache. 

“Look’it you.” He rumbles, enjoying the shiver in your joints. The way your head rolls to the side, nose pressed tight to the skin of your arm. “Messy pussy just achin’ to be fucked.”

He adds more pressure until you choke. The scream lodged in your throat. Your toes curl. He hears the soft pop of your joints when you arch your back like a cat in heat yowling for attending. 

“Want it bad, don't you?” He taunts. “Daddy must’a spoiled you too much—” another scoff from Price. The creak of leather. The clink of ice against glass. “Didn't teach you any manners—”

He wants you to beg. Wants to hear the peal of your voice—rough and ragged and begging him to sink inside you; fuck your little cunt until you can't walk anymore—but that's not what he's here for. Not why Price dragged him up to the room. Gave you to him. 

And with the silk gag in your mouth, he knows he won't get it, anyway. Tied in a pretty bow behind your head. Wet with your spit already. 

Simon's fingers slide down, dragging over the folds of your cunt. You're wet. Soaked. Drenched in a way he's never seen before; folds glistening. Thighs wet. Sticky. He licks his lips. Tastes the brine of his sweat. He wants to eat your pussy. Spread you wide on his tongue and make you beg Price to let Simon make you cum. 

The thought roots in his head. Burrowing deep. He can already hear your sweet voice pleading with his captain—please, please let him make me cum—but he pushes it down when Price makes an impatient noise in the back of his throat. 

He knows why he's here. 

And wonders, then, when he steps back and drops his hands to the button on his trousers, how many times you've been punished like this. The thought is a sour smoulder in the back of his head. An ugly, foul thing unfurled over the soot-stained walls of his skull. 

(he'll ask later. get the names of every man Price let see you like this, and pluck the memory of you right from their skull—)

“So needy,” he drawls, dragging his cock out of his slacks as they fall low on his thighs. “Even after this pussy’s been spoiled so much?”

It makes you keen, and the noise is a searing knife to his guts. He groans with it—low and rough, the noise scraping over the flesh of his throat until it hurts. 

“Gonna have to punish you, ain't I? Needy fuckin' thing—” so he says, but his cock is just as sticky as your thighs, weeping a steady stream of pre-cum that pools in the tangle of hair at the base, dusting over his heavy, fat balls. 

He shuffles closer, and reaches out to your knee, slipping his fingers behind your shin. The squeal of naked flesh against the metal tabletop shouldn't make him throb but it does. Cruel man, he thinks, and drinks in the way you wince. 

He presses his cock against your slit, mouth dropping in a harsh pant when he takes in the hideous sight it makes. Your pussy is covered up by his girth. The tip of his cock bobbing over your belly button, dripping pre-cum into the divot. 

Simon pulls his hips back, letting his cock glide over your silken flesh. The wet squelch it makes when he thrusts forward, cockhead tapping on your belly, has him grunting like an animal. It's obscene, this. The way he can't even see your folds over the wide spread of his cock. Pussy tucked neatly under him. 

He can't even begin to imagine how you'll take the full length of him inside of you when his cock nudges past your belly button when he lets his balls rest on your molten slit. Poor thing. 

He doesn't know if Price stretched you before this. Got you ready for him. But the man makes no move to intervene when Simon pulls back until his head slips down your seam, bracketed between your plush, swollen folds, tight against your entrance. All he has to do is—

Push

And the tip of his cock slips in. 

You make another noise at the sting, and he thinks you might be crying but his eyes are riveted to the spot where you open for him. Pussy so small, so tiny, compared to his cock in a way that's sickening. Garish. But your little cunt drools on him. Rim fluttering like a heartbeat on his glands, pulling him deeper. Enticing him to sink inside. All the way. Until he can feel the hitch of your breath on his cock. 

He leans back to get a better view, the motion forcing another inch inside of you. The noise is slick. Giving as your silken flesh parts around him, eagerly taking him in. But as wet as you are, as pliant, the stretch is unbearable. It chokes the air from his lungs when you tighten up around him—

“Fuckin' hell—” he snaps, his upper lip curling up beneath the mask. Your cunt makes him angry. Suddenly, viciously. The fury drips down his spine, pools at the base of his cock. His hand slips out from between your thighs, roughly grabbing your waist. Holding on tight as he jerks his hips harshly against you. 

You feel good. Perfect. Wrapped snugly around him. A hot, wet embrace. And he huffs at the bitterness that clots in his lungs; the surge of pleasure so blisteringly intense, it nearly makes him gag. Makes him sick. 

Price has this every night. 

The thought alone is a poison. It needles in deep, lashing at him with foul, rabid teeth. Cruelly, he pushes deeper, sinking his cock in another inch, another, another—mindless in this pursuit to tear you apart well before you're ready for it. 

He wants it to burn. To ache. Wants to be the worst fuck you've ever had; cock too big for you to take, but he feeds it to you in full. Gives you all of it. Every inch. Until your stomach churns with every press of his cockhead against your cervix, his glands sliding over that spot inside that makes your knee jerk and your eyes roll. 

Wants you to remember him as a beast. To think of his cock and feel nauseous. 

To sink deep inside of you—brutal and savage—until you can still feel him in your pussy for days. Each step causing a sharp pang in your lower belly. 

It's awful, he knows. Terrible. But he forces himself into you anyway, feeling your flesh split around him. A blunt, unyielding pressure until his balls tap against your ass, pussy spasming around the fat length he punishes you with. He's sure he's deeper inside of you than anything—any man, cheap silicon—has ever dreamed of being. Kissing places in you that nothing has ever touched. Feels it in the nervous flit of your muscles pulsing around him—this foreign thing bludgeoning into uncharted territory, stretching you wide. Almost virginal all over again. It makes him groan. 

Your pleasure is a muted ripple down his spine. The vibrator forcing you into enjoying the sharp sting of your rim pulled taut around the plug of his cock, skin blanching from the strain. He wants to stay just like this—grinding his hips into the backs of your spread thighs, cockhead chiselling into the molten seal of your womb with every gyration until the line between pleasure and pain begins to blur. Until you gag from how badly having your walls battered burns, hurts, but the bloom of pleasure deep inside your groin keeps you in place. Makes you arch your back, wanting more. 

Desperate for it. 

But this isn't what Price wants, is it? 

No—

He voices his impatience with a muffled grunt. Get on with it, Simon is pinched out between the silver of space between his teeth, the butt of a burning cigar keeping his jaw unhinged. The heady, sour-sweet stench of smouldering tobacco, nicotine, staining the words. 

You clench at the sound of Price's voice, pretty pussy drawing all tight around him. Perfectly trained. Sweet thing, he thinks, pulling out of you slowly. Just a few inches. Feeling your skin glue his; the glide of your walls over his shaft sickeningly good, nauseatingly so. He holds it for a moment, staring down at you through the eye holes of his mask, breathing heavily. Sweat drenches his skin. Tacky, hot. The starchy fabric clings to his flesh, peeling away each time he moves his head. 

The exertion of fucking his cock into you shows through the muted pulse of his joints, muscles aching from the strain of pushing forward. 

(Holding himself back.)

You blink at him blearily, eyes misted with tears. A smaller puddle sits on the table near your temples. 

Up close, he can see the full detail of the intricate shibari binding you tight. The sleek pink ribbon weaving over your chest, your breast, stomach—hishi karada, Price said. At the base of your neck is more silk in a mockery of a collar. And he wonders if you miss it, then. The solid weight of leather on your skin. If your hands weren't tied up, he imagines they'd be there. Holding firm. 

Just like the night he first met you. 

The silk rope, the loss of your collar—

“Your dad's a cruel man, ain't he?” He mocks, sliding his fingers over the delicate trim of silk bound tight under your heaving breasts, peppering across your nipple, down the slope. Resting at the base of your throat. The thin slip of fabric is not enough to give you what you need. The pressure, the friction. The sense of being owned. “Didn't even give his little girl a collar.” 

More of that tantalising shame rake over your expression. Tears dribble out in hot drops, spilling down the side of your face. 

He hums, slips this fragility into his back pocket. “Want me to give it to you, little girl?” 

He spits the words out like they're wrong. Awful. Takes in your flinch, the downward twist to your lips, and shoves that, too, into his pocket. 

Simon has no intention of waiting for an answer, for permission—he reels back, hand still splayed wide over your sternum, and pulls his cock out more until only the flare of his glands peaks out. He's soaked—glistening with your slick. So wet that it drips out of your plugged hole, gliding down the cleft of your ass. 

He wonders if you always get like this—

Bites that thought clean through with an angry groan, and pries his fingers out from the back of your knee, dragging them to the end of his mask. Rucking it up over his skin, bunched against the bridge of his nose. 

If the mess of his mouth, chin, the crooked, angular slope of his nose horrifies you at all, you don't let it show. Content to quietly sob on the table, eyes flickering between the thick plug of his cock between your thighs and the Price. 

He hates you, he thinks. And then he spits on your pretty pussy, right over your taut rim. Watches the foamy mess bubble, drip down to the skin behind his mushroomed head. When it pools there, he pulls back until the widened flare of his glands slips free. You whine—a noise of bright hot disgust, humiliation—and he lets it burrow under his skin, trickle down his spine. Then he pushes forward, popping the head back inside of you. 

The spit—his spit, too. 

And he does it again. The same thing. Pulling out, spitting. Feeding it to her. Letting it rub against the slick, wet (wetter now) walls of her cunt. 

Price doesn't say anything about this claim. Schoolboy possession—childish and immature when you're used to fine leather gripping tight around the slope of your neck.

Still. 

He pulls on your proverbial braids until it burns. 

The hum of the vibrator takes some of the sting away when he shoves inside of you again, cockhead bullying into your cervix with an unmatched cruelty. Leaking slick, steady, over your seal. Drooling, thick and viscous, against your walls. Staining you. 

Ruining you.

Each breath is punched out when he bottoms out. Forced from your lungs. Winded. He knows it hurts almost as much as the thick bludgeon of his cock pressing deep, but as he scrapes and claws at the rot concealing over his humanity, morality, he finds nothing inside of him left to care. 

He stops looking. Stops searching. 

Simon fucks into you with vigor instead, laughing mockingly at the lewd, sinful squelch of your cunt. “Think that's the sound of all my spit, birdie? Or is your sloppy little cunt always this fuckin’ messy?”

Each piston makes his pelvis slap into the vibrator; he can feel it through the tangle of coarse hair spooled above his cock. Buzzing incessantly against his skin. The spike of sharp pressure has you yowling beneath him, hips twisting, turning, trying to flee from the brutal onslaught. Pleasure and pain balancing on a knife's edge. 

He holds you there. Dangles you above the precipice just because he can—

A lazy flick of his waist. The savage grind of his hips. The softened bulge of his lower belly tapping against the plastic toy—

And it breaks you. This careless, effortless attention he pays to you has you tightening up around him like a knot, a vice; cunt squeezing, squeezing, before you shatter. Wave against a cliff; you spasm on his cock in a series of shallow, tight throbs pulsing along to the rapid fire of your heartbeat. 

His eyes are locked on your face. Pretty, lachrymal. Tears bleed down your temples, soaking into your hairline. Puddling underneath. 

His own little sea of your miserable pleasure. 

Eyes rolled into the back of your head. Toes curling. Hips jerking, twisting. Trying to run from the ugly, awful way he makes you cum. Makes you gorge yourself on pleasure. Force-feeding you pain with each sloppy, brutal thrust into your sopping, messy cunt—swollen, bruised; battered. And his—

—ice clinks against glass. A clicking swallow follows. The hollow thud of glass on wood. Scraping over the veneer as it's pushed back into place. Tobacco is chewed up by flames, popping and sizzling; smoldering with each inhale as the playwright watches the show he weaved together unfold—

—his. 

The silk around your neck comes loose with each thrash of your head rolling from side to side, shaking with quick, successive no, no, no’s that go unheeded, ignored. Every animalistic rut of his hips makes you change your mind, anyway. Turning those devastating no’s to yeses so eager, your teeth clack with every thrust. 

As it slips, sliding down the sweat-slicked column of your arched throat, he finds a stripe of red. A scab. Right at the knot where your collar would sit. A pretty gem in the middle. Your name, or maybe something that would amuse Price more than the perceived idea of your autonomy—bitch in glinting gold. His name and number etched into the back. 

if found, return to John Price. 

A foldhold, perhaps. Tailor-made for his boot. 

He hunts, Simon knows. Walked in reeking of leather and smoke when they first met and casually mentioned how good he was at Big Game hunting. A threat, then—however thinly veiled and erring on the side of mordant humour it was. But he wonders if Price personally made the collar you mourned the night he swung you into Simon's path. 

Your neck was bare, then. Blemishless. 

A collar too small. Tightened too much. Punishment, he supposes, and feels a sick sense of satisfaction roll down from his nape to the bottom of his spine where it pools in his groin—hot, molten oil—as he wonders just how much convincing it took you to agree to this. To spread your pretty legs for the ugly brute Price dangled you in front of. Who watched you all night from the corner of the room, chest heaving and eyes wide, wild, and furious. Reeking of rot. Want. To let him rut you like an animal while Price watches from the corner of the room—

A bead of sweat follows the phantom trail. 

“Fuck, birdie,” he's rasping, voice uttered wrecked. Mangled in his throat. “So fuckin’ tight f’me, ain't you? Must want me to cum inside this pretty cunt—”

You shiver. Knee jerking. There's a real sense of panic in your eyes when they dart over to Price, silently nursing another glass of scotch. He follows your gaze, catches Price glaring at him with his chin dipped low to his chest, peering out through his lashes. Brow furrowed. A flat line. 

Simon doesn't stop thrusting. Keeps a steady pace despite the anger brimming inside of him as the pleasure grows. Festers. 

Then—

Barely discernible: a nod. 

Shadows fall over his cheeks. He brings the glass back to his mouth with a surly mm between the mouthful. An irrevocable fuckin' get on with it. 

And Simon does.

The look he gives you pure predatory hunger. Victory in the potent stench of charred bones. He lifts his chin, stares down at you—all spread out like a gift to a god—and surges forward with a rabid hunger brimming in his guts. Unquenchable. Horrific. 

—wants you to eat you alive. Consume you whole. Leave nothing for Price to pick at, to mourn over,

settles instead for ruining your pussy. For fucking you raw. Cumming deep inside of your quivering cunt even when he knows you don't want that. Are silently begging Price to reconsider. To get this ugly fucking mutt off of you—

It churns his guts. Makes him viciously excited over the image that brims in the back of his head, tears raining down your cheeks as you bring a shaky hand to your aching, swollen cunt, feeling the thick, viscous glob of his cum leaking out.

Or before that, when you have to lay there and take it. Feeling his cock throbbing, pulsing as it spits cum inside of you. When he pulls out, and a milky trail follows, dribbling down between your cheeks. At his mercy the whole time, too, because Price won't get up right away to untie you. You'll have to lay there in his filth, feeling it ooze out of you—

He wants it. Badly. Feels it scorching his hindbrain, burning him up from the inside out. 

Later, he thinks, he'll fuck you with more finesse. Make you cum on his fingers—stuff them inside of your sore, aching cunt to the last knuckle; give you three of them to squeeze around, to cling to, and watch the ink on his bruised, scabbed skin disappear inside of you over and over again, pulling them out all slick, pearlescent with a mix of his cum and yours. On his tongue, too. Keep you in this pretty frogtie, unable to push him off—or pull him closer. Forced to take it. To let him lap at your pussy until he quenches this uneasy hunger festering inside of his stomach, growing bolder, greedier at the sight of you splayed out like this, exhausted already even though he's only just begun. 

Fuck you again, too, just because he can. 

all yours for a night, Price had said, sealing your fate with a sharp, decisive nod. 

He plans on making the most of the twelve hours until sunrise that he has. 

This, then, the appetizer—

It curls over his shoulders, tar-stained fingers digging into the tight coil of his muscles, easing the tension in increments. Soothing out the fear that still clings to him of missing out. Still, very much, that hungry little mutt on the side of the street, peering into the bakery at the family's milling about, smiling happily. Content to ignore the brat in rags glaring at them from an alcove with bruises on his chin, and a black split on his lip. Diving for scraps because the alternative is going to bed with an empty stomach in a house that reeks of flat beer and stale piss. 

There's nothing to miss out on here, it reasons, when he has you all night. All his. 

“Beg me,” he huffs, sniffing through the balmy, damp mask when it slips down his crooked nose. “Beg me not to cum inside you.”

All you can do is make a small, keening oomph behind the loose gag, words muffled by wet silk. His head rolls back, eyes narrowing down at you in mocking delight—catlike, leonine, in the dwindling glimmer of sunlight spilling through the crack in the curtains. 

“C’mon,” he taunts, rolls his hips into you just to hear the loud, wet squelch of your pussy taking the full, fat length of his cock. Lets the noise box through his ears in a vicious, heavy punch. “Or I'll cum inside you—”

He's already there. Edging toward the precipice. 

Simon grabs the tops of your thighs, digging his fingers into your skin, and pulls you closer to the edge of the table until your ass lifts. It opens you up wider for him, knees notched wide, nearly level with your ears. The new position lets him push in deeper, fucking you in full now. Balls slapping against your ass with every brutal stroke. 

He leans down, knee lifting to the table as he climbs on before dropping the full heft of his weight onto you. Forearm braced above your head, the other catching the column of your bare, scratched neck in the wide spread of his palm. 

The size difference before was intoxicating. A rush that pooled in the back of his head before rocketing down to his spine, filling his cock, but this—your knees bracketing around his waist, spread so wide they're forced down flat to the table below in a split that lets his cock sink in deeper, head tucked against his collarbone, swallowed whole beneath him, is his undoing. 

Arched over you like a beast, he grunts. Ruts into your sopping cunt and feels the whines that spill from your throat at the rough way he batters into you. 

The softness of his lower belly grazes the vibrator humming on your clit. The pressure makes your eyes widen, and roll into the back of your head. Neck trapped in his hold as you thrash beneath him, sobbing in earnest. In dismay. 

He's sure it hurts. The pleasure careening into overstimulation—the kind that burns, bellows too much, no more. He huffs out a derisive snort, and eats your misery from your parted lips, dipping his head down to catch the seam of your mouth in a mockery of a kiss. The silk wrapped around your head, tucked neatly into the corners of your mouth, keeps it from being anything more than a messy smear of his scarred, torn lips and your muffled gasps. The band prevents him from really tasting you, and he makes do with curling his tongue over your teeth, catching the drool running down your chin. 

It's gross. Messy. He slurps you up, and hums in pleasure when he tastes the brine of your tears. 

“Gonna cum,” he grunts into the silk before catching it between his crooked teeth, nibbling on the wet hem, sucking on your spit soaked into the fabric. 

Your pussy spasms around him. Eager, he thinks—pulsing like a heartbeat and starving for it. It blooms under his skin, burning hot like a fever. His tongue slips under your gag. Eyes glued to yours, listed in quiet, merciless delight when you grimace as he slides it along yours, nearly gagging you on it. 

It's almost sweet. A pastiche of loving making—as close to the real thing as he's ever come. The thought is a bludgeon to his head, making his ears ring—

And he runs from it. Rears back from the sloppy kiss, eyes creasing, brow furrowing, as you stare up at him with wet, glossy eyes, rheumy with tears. Silently pleading for something he can't discern. He feels that trail of anger coiling in his guts again, sitting low in his belly as his hips stutter to a slow, softer roll. 

His finger lifts, settles on the corner of your unhinged jaw, holding your head steady. There are lines, he thinks. Walls, divides. Protective armour—

And some shouldn't be crossed. 

Simon spits on your gag. Squeezes the huff of disgust from your throat when he feels your chest expand with it. Bullies himself closer, smothering you under his weight. Owned, then. Claimed. 

You can't close your mouth around the gag, or fingers digging into the muscle of your jaw. He keeps you like that, degraded. Dehumanised. A vessel for him to use as he likes—

Nothing more, nothing less. 

Sinks into your bruised cunt again, hips slapping meanly into yours in a way he knows must ache. Sets a choppy, deep pace; humps your pussy and grinds the weeping, swollen head of his cock into your battered cervix. Loses himself in the messy, plugging rolls of his hips; the wet, tight slide of your skin—flushed and clenching around the thick of himself he feeds to you, over and over again. Mindless in the pursuit to ruin you further. Stain you with his cum—

The problem is:

You feel like heaven. Pussy wrapped tight around him. Silken walls hugging his aching cock until it feels like he's melting into the hot, wet squeeze of it. So good it hums inside his head like a purr, rattles his thoughts around until the ugly, bitter anger is turned inside out. Flipped. 

He thinks about lines again as his sticky, wet balls glue to the slick skin of your ass, peeling off in a way that has pleasure peppering along his spine, spooling in his lower back. He did that, caused it. Made you so fucking wet that his knees slide in the messy spill of it leaking all over the table. The loud squelch of him slamming into your cunt echoes in the room—shrill and bone-melting. Ego-feeding. Enough to gorge his pride on it until its belly threatens to burst at the seams. Overfull. 

Simon grunts. His face is soaked. The damp fabric of his mask is too drenched to even mop it up, sticking to his skin as sweat rains down from his shorn hairline, misting over his eyes. His upper lip. The dip of his chin. He's more water than man. Liquid. Melting into you. 

The heat is unbearable. “Gonna cum in this pussy,” he snarls, and it sounds like a threat. Is one. He's going to burst inside of you, molten and thick. Been a while, he thinks, and feels his balls draw up. Tightening in a promise as he fucks himself into a syrupy stupor above you. 

The inside of his ears are wet, and he thinks it might be his fucking brain leaking out—

The tight coil of his body snaps before he does, giving out in a heavy groan. He catches himself before he crushes you beneath him, still mindlessly thrusting into your cunt, cock pulsing, throbbing. Growing thicker, thicker, as he heaves into your temple, breathing in the pine scent of your skin. Loam, sea. Sweat. You smell like Price beneath it all—leather and smoke; scotch and wood—and his lips curl into a vicious snarl, teeth bared at the man in the corner, silent observer to this blasphemous confessional where he spills his guts inside of you, and you eat them up like they're made of gold dust. 

It rushes him. A kick to his soft stomach, a boot crushing his ribs. The force of it hurts when it hits, surging up from the base of his spine, too fast for him to brace for. Tensing, coiling. The pressure knocks the air from his lungs, makes his hips stutter. Joints whining, twinging with pain. 

He moans low and brassy, mangled deep in the rot of his chest, and cums deep inside of you. Sloppy, mindlessly rutting into the spread bracket of your thighs as pleasure burns across the back of his neck, his spine. His hips roll, shaking. Melting as he spills, spits thick globs of cum out, cockhead bullied tight against your plug. 

All you can do is heave beneath him, whining at the molten spend he pours into you. Poor fuckin’ thing—

His lips are sticky, slick with sweat. He rubs them against the tacky skin of your temple, your cheekbone, babbling nonsense out on a purr—

Breedin’ this tight little pussy right in front of your old man, birdie. Got ‘im watchin’ his little girl take my thick fuckin’ load inside o’her. Fuckin’ hell—

—things that leak out between the cracks in the armour. The thick veneer. Made worse, his personal hell, when he feels your hips bump into his, taking his cock deeper inside as you squirm under the heavy weight of him. With your thigh flexing, squeezing his hip, it almost feels like you want more. All of him. For him to crawl deep inside of you, cocooned in the bracket of your ribs—

“Needy fuckin’ thing,” he rasps, words slurring. Eliding into mush. Nonsense he'll come to crush between his teeth later when he buries himself back inside of you over and over again, feeding blood to this vicious seedling inside of him. 

Through the pounding in his head, your gasping little hitches in his ear, the undeniable silence from Price weighs on him even as the aftershocks of his release mute the noise in his head. A dense, hazy fog clouding over all thoughts. 

It doesn't feel angry. Jealous. If anything it reeks of victory—

He grasps through the blanket, the murk, with lazy hands until he finds what he's looking for, and—

Oh. 

Right. 

(“Got a proposition for you, Simon,” the man says, and Simon snorts. 

He reeks of the same brand of cheap cigarettes as always—stale smoke, day old tobacco; acrid and unpleasant. It makes his skin itch. 

“an’ I told you already, Price. I ain't interested in a team—”

“Not a team, Simon.” The look he levels him with is nothing short of malicious. Dangerous. “Got something else in mind—”)

Then through the door was you. Pretty as a picture—

He stares down at you now. The base of his cock is soaked with your slick, flesh throbbing, pulsing, as he cums inside of you. 

It's this—you, crying over the feeling of him spilling so deeply inside of you while your old man watches from the sidelines, unable to do anything but sit there as Simon fills his baby girl up—that he wanted. Wants. Needs, he thinks, more than the stale, humid air he breathes. A place of his own. Home. Even if it's made of paper mache, carved inside of someone else, someone who already has a collar. A brand—

But that's the point, isn't it?

A sick feeling curls over his shoulders as he thumbs the slim vibrator off of your clit, staring down at the swollen nub at the apex of your mound. Sore and sensitive and flushed bright. Bruised like an apple. Abused for hours. Poor thing, he thinks, even as he rubs the flat of his finger over it. 

His cum seeps out around the softening plug of his cock. But it's still thicker than anything you'd ever taken before, he's sure. Sick with the deep sense of satisfaction that rolls over him at the thought. 

It's worth it, then, even as the dawning realisation trickles over him like hot oil—

“What d’you like, Simon?”

A pretty bird in pale pink chiffon. Too good for the likes of him. Afraid of him, too. Cowerin’. Cryin’ somethin’ awful when he sinks his ugly, fat prick into them—

Price hummed. Curled his index finger over the top of his cigar, tapped the thick wrap twice with the tip of it, and then brought it to his lips. A flash of teeth beneath his beard—nicotine-stained; crooked in the low light—before they sunk into the butt. 

There was something measured in his stare. Predatory. 

Victorious. 

And—

He gets it. You were a dangling lure in the deep, dark of the abyssal layer. A glimmer of light in thick murk. Iridescent. Dazzling. He was always meant to sink his teeth into you, wasn't he? Always meant to take a bite—

hook. line—

—sinker. 

Or—

It would be if the fish Price caught wasn't a leviathan. 

—in the scorching trail the oil leaves behind, something bestial, primordial, inside of his cocks its head in consideration. he can make a feast from this, it says; and so, he does—

“Need my help, Price?” Simon drawls, arms crossing over his chest as he stares down at him, quietly amused, and John feels the pulse between his temples starting up again the same way it had all those years back when he bumped into the man with you on his arm. 

He grunts. “Sendin’ you to Mexico.”

“Tha’ so? I might be busy.”

He sucks in a deep breath, reaches for his cigar. The itch claws behind his eyes, in his gums. There's a headache, too. One he knows won't be soothed over with the numbing bliss of nicotine or a shot of scotch. Not when he'll have to slink home afterwards, this massive behemoth nipping at his heel, and deal with the aftermath of what happens whenever he sets Simon loose on you:

an icepack pressed tight against your aching cunt, a glare fixed on your face as he dotes on you after you made him clean up the absolute mess Simon left behind with his fingers and tongue—

“never again,” you'll hiss, wincing with each pull of his knuckles on your sore, bruised walls. “I mean it—”

(you always say that but the look in your eye whenever he pulls out the silk—the new assortment that Simon bought for you himself—tells him otherwise—)

He presses the heel of his palm into the crease between his eye and bone, rubbing until he sees phosphenes spark behind his eyelids. 

“She'll be in silk,” he grouses, sucking his teeth in irritation. “And you'll be on fuckin’ plane to Mexico the next morning, Riley. Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal, sir,” he draws lazily with a half-hearted shrug, but Price can see the mutt inside of him panting with glee. He pretends to huff. Then: “I want her in white this time.”

The fuckin' prick.

—Price’s gamble of using you to lure the big, bad dog in works. but maybe a little too well. because now his sergeant expects one every time he's sent on a mission. and they send him out a lot. 

—he now has a key to his captain's house. lets himself in whenever he wants. finds you exactly how he asked for it. usually tied up in silk, crying, and struggling to get away when he stalks inside the room. on your knees, begging him so sweetly not to fuck your throat too hard. you have work tomorrow. or fighting him off as best as you can until he pins you down, works his cock inside of you. 

—in full view of the cameras, of course. non-negotiable. Price gets to see everything his brutish sergeant does to his pretty bird. everything. 

—Simon is the one who keeps you company when Price is sent off to work with the CIA. keeps you stuffed full of his cock in the bed you share with Price, his little girl sobbing into the pillow that reeks of smoke and leather and sex as Simon forces every inch of his stupid fat cock inside you

[novemberheart]

{overview} Its agreed. The 141 needs an omega. But how will you react after already being rejected by them?

{warnings} Fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, light pricexsoap

Chapter 1 <- Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3

“Visitor!” Ms. Helen knocked on your door, causing it to open.

“What did you do now?” Miriam smirked from her bed next to you.

“Nothing.” You replied, baring your teeth playfully. She laughed, throwing a pillow at you on your way out. “Do I get to know?” you hummed, trying to keep up with Ms. Helen.

“No,” she responded harshly. She was all bark no bite. You rolled your eyes, running your fingers across the wall as you followed her to the visitation room. It was cozy, and designed to make omegas comfortable. Soft lighting, lots of windows and things to hide behind. When the door opened you caught sight of a familiar blonde.

“Kate.” You cheered, as Ms. Helen shut the door to give you two privacy.

“Hey, Honey.” she greeted warmly, giving you a tight squeeze.

“How's Robin?” You asked, plopping down with her on the couch.

“She's good, busy with the dogs and garden. She says ‘hi’.” Kate smiled, taking a quiet deep breath of your scent. Peaches and Vanilla. It wasn't nearly as fulfilling as her wife's scent, but it was enough to take her slight edge off.

“Please tell me you're breaking me out of here for lunch.” You pleaded to the alpha next to you.

“We can do that after.” She smiled at you. “There is something we need to discuss first.” The smell of nervous alpha drifted towards your nose, giving you goosebumps.

“Alright.” You said slowly. You projected your scent, trying to cover hers. It seemed to work.

“I have a placement for you.” She finally admitted. The first reaction you had was to wince, your head beginning to feel light as your lungs dropped to your stomach along with your heart.

“Really?” You said slowly. “Did they pick me?” was your second question. Her smile faltered a bit.

“No. But I'm picking you.”

You guess that'll have to do.

You and Kate had known each other for a little over a year now. She had met you when she was interviewing omegas to be paired with military packs. You quickly became her favorite, (and almost everyone else’s who interviewed you) and she knew exactly where to put you. Unfortunately, the rest of your ‘soon to be’ pack wasn't as willing. Kate put a hold on you though. Leaving you effectively stuck in an omega-holding house.

“They've already rejected me before, Kate.” It came out as a whine, you couldn't help it. “Is it the same pack? What's going to make this any different?”

She winced at the noise, her brows furrowing.

“Yes, it’s the same pack. And they didn't reject you, they just rejected the idea of an omega.” she corrected. “It's different this time because they've wised up. They asked me to find them an omega.”

“And here I am,” you said glumly.

“None of that.” she scolded, her hand smacking against your knee. “You still have their files?” She asked. You nodded your head. Of course, you still had their files. They practically haunted you.

Plus it was just about the only eye candy you could get in a place like this.

“You remember Simon right?” she continued. You nodded your head. The only man in your file without a picture. He was a fan favorite amongst your friends, along with Kyle. Something about the mystery just had everyone's wheels turning. “He got hurt. Hospitalized.”

“That's terrible.” You gasped. “He’s going to be alright?”

She quickly nodded her head. “Yes, but on the bright side, it made them realize how much they need you,” she said softly. You begin to have a gnawing feeling in your stomach and you are one more fact away from getting the shakes. “Calm down.” she groaned, waving a hand in front of her face. When nervous your scent turned from sweet to sour. Not in a moldy fruit way, but in a strong lemon way. Kate could feel her mouth pucker.

“I can't help it.” you groaned back. “I thought I was going to die in this place. Now you're telling me I have to leave and go out into the world. Not only that but I get to join a pack that has no interest in me other than a healer. You know what it's my turn to refuse.” You snapped. “If that Captain ‘Cost’ or whatever his name is wants me then he can come down here and ask me.” You snapped.

“Captain Price.” Kate corrected, working her hardest to stifle a laugh. “How about we go to lunch, then you can think about it. I can tell you a bit more about them. Maybe that’ll change your mind? Hhhm?” She soothed, patting you on the back.

Who were you to turn down lunch?

Simon had yet to fully wake up. The doctor was right, waking up was a nightmare. John had decided to spend the night outside Simon’s door- just in case. The sound of a thundering growl quickly jolted him awake. John had to tranquilize Simon himself, through a hole in the door. First and hopefully last time he'd ever have to use a blow dart.

It went on like this every few hours, until finally the nurses just decided to keep him under. Simon had cracked a few of his ribs in the fight with himself, along with obtaining more bumps and scrapes.

“Poor lad.” John huffed, after telling the rest of the pack.

“Didn't happen to record any of it did you?” Johnny questioned. “What?!” he spat after Kyle and John glared him down. “Simon drugged up trying to fight nonexistent enemies. Don't sit here and tell me it wasn't entertaining.” Johnny smirked. Kyle pressed his lips together, his imagination slowly taking control.

“Was a sight.” John admitted finally. John suddenly leaned forward his finger tapping against the Scots left shoulder, where Simon’s mark was.“That's one of your alphas you're talking about.” John corrected. Johnny shivered, instinctually leaning into John's warm touch.

“Technically he's the second alpha. You're the pack alpha.” Johnny continued, wanting to soak up as much affection as he could. It worked.

“Good boy.” John praised, his hand drifting over to Johnnys' right shoulder, where his mark was. Johnny purred, his eyes drifting over to Kyle who was watching the whole ordeal with slowly lowering eyelids. Kyle snapped himself out of it.

“Not in public.” Kyle reprimanded.

“You're just jealous.” Johnny nearly panted.

“You get worked up so fast,” John murmured.

“Still got any tranquilizers?” Kyle growled.

After talking with Kate and about three margaritas later you had softened. She had dropped you back off at the omega house holding house, with a tight hug, promising you that everything would work out.

John twitched in surprise when his phone began buzzing in his pocket.

“Kate?”

“When do you need her?”

Yay, you're here for chapter two! Chapter three will be uploaded in two days! See you there 🧡🤎

[thewordypeach]

Milk

Milk (Cream)

pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader word count: 3.3k warnings: 18+, NSFW!!!!, smut! smut! smut!, no use of y/n, unprotected p in v = creampie, fingering, slight orgasm count, oral fixation??, titty sucking (lactation kink), fingering, implied breeding kink?!? summary: Joel doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done. author's note: i should be studying for my finals next week but joel miller sucking titties is obviously more important, and i just couldn't help myself! i just had to write it!!! the result? it's hot. maybe too hot - can you handle it? i know i couldn't. xoxo the wordy peach <3

“Only nine weeks left!” Ellie says excitedly, peering at your protruding stomach with wide eyes of wonderment. She can’t wait to meet her little sister or brother, and each week since announcing your pregnancy, Ellie crosses off a week in her little calendar. 

Fondly, you smile at her. She’s been your saving grace during this pregnancy - distracting you with every question possible. She even managed to get it out of you when you and Joel convinced the damn thing (“It was that night at the stables, wasn’t it?”)

“Nine weeks,” She repeats with a confident nod; she glances at you, a single eyebrow raised, “Have you looked at the list of names I gave you?”

You let out a chuckle, nodding, “Yes, Ellie - I look at it every night,”

Her eyes widen, “Every night?”

“Every damn night,” Joel grumbles as he walks into the room. He’s exhausted from the extra shifts he’s been putting in because he wants time off for the baby. With tired, bleary eyes, Joel looks at Ellie, “Shouldn’t you be at school?”

She glares at him, points directly at your belly, and speaks with conviction, “Well, technically, I am in health class, and if I have to learn about procreation, Joel, I want her to teach me,"

Exasperated, Joel sighs. He shakes his head with frustration, and briefly, you can see the hint of annoyance on his tired face. He looks at Ellie with his eyebrows knitted together - she knows better than to argue with him. She purses her lips into a thin line and begins gathering school supplies. Ellie ignores Joel and starts idly chatting about her day and her plans.

She’s looking forward to the new reading assignment and asking if you’ll help her later with something. You rub your belly and nod, “Of course, Ellie - you know where I’ll be,”

A flicker of concern mixed with panic crosses her face. She glances at you; you know she’s asking if you’ll really be here when she returns. Ellie confirms, a slight wavering in her voice, “You’ll be here, right?” 

You feel a pang of empathy for her. The world you live in is uncertain - even here, in Jackson, there’s no guarantee of safety. You understand her fear, and reassuringly, you tell her, “Yes, Ellie - I’ll be home all day,”

She nods, and her shoulder’s visibly relax at your confirmation. But before leaving, Ellie just has to turn to Joel and says, “She isn’t feeling good today, so don’t be a dick - or else I will know, and you’ll have to deal with me,” 

As Joel sips his water, Ellie shoots him a stern look. Despite what your partner likes to think, you both know Ellie is in charge. Her gaze holds a silent warning, and you stifle a chuckle, watching as she finally leaves the house. Once the door is closed, silence falls between you and Joel. It’s tense; his eyes penetrate you, noting your skin's paleness and its sickly sheen of sweat. Usually you’re glowing -

“What’s wrong?” Joel asks in that demanding tone of his. 

You sigh, shaking your head, “It’s nothing,”

“Babe,” Joel warns, and you hear him shuffling over before the chair next to you pulls out, and he’s sitting there. He places a hand on your thigh and repeats his question more gently this time. 

“I’m…” You think about the right words, carefully selecting them, “Uncomfortable,”

Confessing this to your partner is almost embarrassing. Maybe it’s his rough exterior that makes you feel like this. Joel, who is waiting patiently, peers at you. His eyes soften, and he looks at you with such tenderness. You’ve been missing these moments because he’s never home anymore. 

He presses, “C’mon, darlin'… tell me what’s wrong,”

Your cheeks flush pink, and after a minute or two, you admit: “My boobs hurt,”

Joel gives you an incredulous look, and his cheeks blush too. His gaze turns to your breasts - even he can’t deny how much they’ve grown in the past few weeks. Joel knows they’re swollen with milk for the incoming baby, but he doesn’t understand how uncomfortable you are. He probably never will because, biologically, he’s a man.

He watches as you reach up, adjusting your tits, groaning out a slew of complaints: “My nipples are so fucking sensitive and hard all the goddamn time! I feel like I’m in that stupid Austin Power movie with the fembots and their machine gun titties,” Joel knows the movie you are referring to, and he can’t help but chuckle and hearing this makes your eyes narrow at him. 

“Are you seriously fucking laughing at me, Joel?” Your voice is emotional, and you attempt to stand, but it’s useless. Your stupid round belly makes it impossible to do anything, and sadness floods your hormonal body. You whine, “I am so fat -”

Joel shakes his head, watching as your face goes through several emotions simultaneously. There’s not much he can do, but he does reassure you that you are not fat - “You are pregnant,”

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” You grumble, arms crossing over your chest. You wince because you’re nipples feel like they’re on fire, and you feel like they’re about to burst at any second. You wiggle uncomfortably and pout at Joel. He’s thinking of ways to help and can only think of a single thing that might help but is hesitant about bringing it up. 

“What if…” He trails off, swallowing the dry lump growing in his throat, “What if I help… relieve some of that pressure?” 

Your eyebrows furrow together, confused. “How?” 

“Umm,” He glances around. He knows it’s just the two of you, but he wants to make sure because he’s about to suggest something crazy. His voice drops an octave, suggesting, “I can milk you,”

Your jaw slacks, and you hiss, “Like a cow?”

“N-no!” Joel sputters, hands waving aimlessly around, but it dawns on him it’s exactly like that, and sheepishly, he says: “Okay, yeah… it might be similar to that,” 

“Joel,” Your voice wavers, hot tears swell in your eyes. You feel stupid! And your emotions won’t stop. You know he’s just trying to help, but dammit! Joel just called you a cow - “I can’t believe you think I’m a cow,” 

Joel gives you an apologetic look. He’s sympathetic to your situation; he knows you don’t mean to be this hormonal, and he knows it’s his child doing this to you. He places a hand on your belly and gently rubs the fabric of his stretched-out shirt (the only one that fits!). He leans over, “Darlin’… you’re not a cow. You’re growing a baby. And I think, from what I read, that your milk ducts need to be expressed,”

“What does that mean? Expressed? Are you going to suck the milk out, Joel?” 

Joel's cheeks redden, and the sultry tone in your voice surprises him. He thinks he has imagined it, but then, Joel sees how your eyes darken into a lustful frequency. He reads your message loud and clear. 

Without hesitation, Joel captures your jaw between his rough fingers and kisses you. It’s sweet. Gentle. Exactly what you need to forget your frustration with him. But of course, you want more. You deepen the kiss, swiping your tongue across Joel’s lower lip and dipping your tongue into his mouth. Ever so slightly, he groans. He loves it when your forward. 

You’re leaning over, as far as you can with your belly, and place your hands onto Joel’s jean-clad thighs. You must hold onto something for balance because your stupid belly messes with your center of gravity. You have yet to get used to it. You’re trying to climb into Joel’s lap, but it’s useless. You’re struggling to lift your body into his, and you pull back, huffing in frustration. 

“This stupid belly!” You mutter while rubbing it. Joel finds your annoyance cute, and despite his best effort, Joel’s cock is already stirring inside his pants. It’s been a while since you two had sex, and today is the day that he’s going to fuck you after weeks of hiatus. 

“Babe, it’s not stupid,” Joel coos and helps you stand. Your belly knocks into his, and it makes him smile. His teeth flash, and the skin by his eyes crinkles with delight. He can’t believe he’s going to be a father again. He can’t wait to meet his little one. But, for now, Joel must give you some relief because it is his fault that you’re in this position. He’s the one who kept pumping his seed into your womb. 

Joel knew the consequences of not using a condom, and here he is - reaping what he sowed. He begins leading you to the bedroom, insisting, “Let me take care of you,” 

“We shouldn’t - I have to meet Maria in an hour, and it’ll take me at least 45 minutes to waddle there,” 

Joel ignores you, pulling your body into the room and shutting the door swiftly behind you. He doesn’t need prying eyes on what he’s about to do. Joel starts by showering your jaw and neck with kisses, his fingers playing with the bottom hem of his shirt before tugging it off. He nearly gasps from seeing your breasts, practically spilling out of the tiny bra that once fit your tits so perfectly. 

You feel Joel devouring your body, noting how his hungry eyes stare at your chest. You mutter, “They’re massive, aren’t they?” 

“They’re perfect, babe,” Joel nods and wraps an arm around your body. With a single finger, he unlatches your bra, and your tits spring free as the garment falls to the ground. A groan of surprise escapes Joel’s throat, and his hard cock strains against his zipper. He marvels at your milky skin, strewn with veins and stretch marks. He reaches and cups them, his fingers ghosting over your nipples, which are a deeper colour than before. Even in these short weeks, your body has made changes he wasn’t even aware of. 

You hiss, “Joel,” but your eyes close because the relief of him holding your breasts has taken the strain off your back. He blows a soft gust at your left side and watches as your face twists into discomfort. 

“Shit, darlin’… are they really that sensitive?” 

You whimper, “Yeah - they’re that sensitive,” 

“If it hurts, tell me to stop,” Joel instructs before he lowers his mouth to your breast. He kisses the skin, and you melt beneath the attention. When Joel swipes his tongue across the rock-hard nipple, you bite back the yelp that threatens to come out and instead focus on how Joel gingerly kneads the pillowy flesh that drapes from your chest. He’s listening to you, waiting for you to tell him to stop. But you don’t. You’re bearing the torment he's putting you through because you know it will feel good at some point. And eventually, it does. 

It’s undeniable: Joel’s hands on your breasts feel amazing, and his warm mouth working on your right nipple is starting to create wetness between your thighs. As his fingers continue, you notice a new sensation in your breast that makes you squirm. At that moment, you feel a release as something emerges from your nipple and shoots into Joel’s mouth. You gasp and watch as he finally yields, pulling away from your body. You see the slightest evidence of white dew on his lower lip, and when you look down at your nipple, it's leaking with the same substance. You are shocked, unsure of what to do. 

“Does that feel better, darlin’?” Joel hums. Hastily, you nod and swallow dryly. It does feel better, but you need more relief. 

You gaze at Joel, eyelids cutely fluttering at him. You sheepishly ask, “What about the other side?” 

Joel just smiles and helps you onto the bed. He places two extra pillows behind your back, ensuring you’re comfy before he settles down. He raises his head again, latching his mouth onto your other breast. Once more, the feeling is overwhelming. Almost too much to bear. You grit through the discomfort, relenting to the sensation of Joel’s mouth and hand as he works. Soon enough, another squirt of hidden cream comes forth. 

It has you moaning this time, and you bask in the momentary relief. And instead of leaving your breast unattended, your hands thread through Joel’s dishevelled hair, and you keep him there. Breathlessly, you demand, “Don’t stop,” He listens and continues to work your breasts until your moans are frantic and your thighs continuously flex. Your arousal has grown to great heights, and an aching desire radiates in your core for the first time in a long time. 

You reach down, fingers dipping into your sweatpants - again, it’s the only thing that fits - and notice how soaked your panties are. Of course, these days, it's a common occurrence. Pregnancy has your body changing in ways you didn’t even consider. Some of them are shocking, and some of them are annoying. Since the first trimester, the idea of sex repulses you. And it made you feel guilty because you live to please Joel. But your lovely partner doesn’t mind; he’s just been taking longer showers, which has been pissing Ellie off because there’s often no hot water left for her - 

Joel notices your hand sliding into your pants and wants some of that action too. He takes one hand and places it on top of yours. Sharply, you inhale. You love how Joel is guiding your hand to his will. With his skillful touch, it doesn’t take long to reach the peak, turning you into a groaning mess as waves of pleasure swell and roll across your body. You notice how your belly quivers with delight too.

As you descend from the peak, you let Joel go. He lifts his head and wipes his milk-laced mouth before kissing you on the lips. You taste yourself. It’s sweet and creamy, reminding you of something you can’t quite place. As Joel’s tongue explores your mouth, you relish the feeling because it’s been too long. You missed his passion, and you missed him ravishing your body. 

“Joel, I need you,” You whine through kisses as your hands wander up and down his back, attempting to undress him. He moves, and his shirt and pants are on the ground within seconds. With no underwear in sight, your eyes lock onto his dick, hanging freely. The presence of it never fails to make you drool. 

Despite his quick movements to undress, Joel takes a slower approach with you and leisurely removes your sweatpants. His hands work with delicate precision, especially when he’s around your stomach. It’s incredibly frustrating for you, and you’re huffing in annoyance. It’s never been like this before. He’s always so rough, taking on a lusty savageness, and Joel would be inside by now. However, he’s still working off your panties. 

“Joel,” You whimper. Your body vibrates with anticipation, and you don’t know how much more you can take. You need his cock, and you don’t care if something goes wrong. Months of built-up horniness are making you reckless. You beg, “Please just fuck me already,” 

His eyes snap to yours. They’re dark with desire. As he places his body between your thighs, he murmurs, “I don’t want to hurt you or the baby,” Joel anticipates your reply - stupid belly - and hushes you before it can come out: “It’s not stupid - it’s love,”

“Love?” You whisper, confused. It’s not common, and Joel has only used it once. Morning sickness took over, and you were throwing up for weeks. Ellie and Joel thought you were dying. And, of course, for a little while, you believed them. It wasn’t until Maria asked when your last period did you clue in. And when you relayed that message to Joel, his grumpy face went unusually slack before joy took over. He swept you into his arms, kissed you, and said: 

“I love you,” He repeats while wrapping a hand around his cock, lowering it to your glistening, swollen exterior. Expertly, he glides the crown of his cock up and down, watching as your juices coat it. You moan because your pussy is so unbelievably sensitive that another climax is blooming in your core. Joel finds himself commenting: “Goddamn… Your cunt is soaking wet,”

You squirm, hips wiggling as you spread your thighs further apart. You hate begging for it, but your cunt yearns for fulfillment. “Please!”

Joel presses his big, round tip against your tight entrance. You bite your lower lip, eyes gazing down at the penetration point, but your belly is in the way. You can’t see what’s happening but don’t have to because you suddenly feel his cock pushing through. At first, your velvet channel is resistant, but that doesn’t deter Joel.

As your walls grip his cock, coating it in a creamy warmth, Joel tosses his head back and sighs with satisfaction. It’s been so long. His hand has nothing on your pussy. Joel delves his cock as deep as possible, and you can feel it practically bulging inside your stomach. And when Joel places his hands on either side of your protruding belly, your impending orgasm rips through.

“Mmm, cumming already,” Your pussy convulses and clenches as a powerful wave of immeasurable pleasure crashes. White, hot flashes across your vision, sweeping you into a moment of intensity. Joel admires as your body undulates beneath him, studying as your belly ripples. He knows the pregnancy is the reason for your quick orgasms, and he wonders how many he can get out before he cums. 

With a mission in mind, Joel lets you come back down before he starts to rock his hips back and forth. It doesn’t take long until you’re trembling with a third orgasm. You cry out, hands gripping the sheets below. You barely have time to catch your breath before Joel ups his pace, and he excitedly speers your pussy with youthful energy. 

Hypnotically, Joel watches as your tits bounce with each thrust, and soon enough, his fingers are back on them. He squeezes and kneads until the milk sprays out with a such force that it sprinkles across your chest and coats his hands. A feral growl escapes from your mouth, “Joel,” 

Your vision swirls, and your body shivers with ecstasy as a fourth orgasm rolls through. You gasp, sucking in as much air as you can. You look at Joel, marveling at his skin's sheer layer of sweat. He has a look of concentration on his face, and you know he must be close. You encourage him to cum, repeatedly. 

But before he can, a fifth and final climax hits your body. It has you swearing and calling Joel names, “You fucking bastard,” as your pussy floods and swells around his cock. By this point, there’s a growing puddle beneath your ass, and Joel’s cock is exploring your molten wetness with ease. His flesh claps against yours and echos across the room. His groans are uncontrollable now, and he screws his eyes shut, trying to hold back. 

The effort is futile, and he slams into your body, forgetting about being gentle. A stern look of arousal etches upon his face, and a deep, low guttural grunt spills from his lips. He doesn’t have a chance to warn you because his cock surges with a thick, plentiful rope of his cum, and floods your cunt with a warm stickiness. His hands are back and resting against your belly. Joel juts his hips forward, pushing a second load of cum deep into your cunt. He doesn’t have to worry about getting you pregnant because the damage is already done.

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

The honey to my moon 🌬

Husband!Leon S. Kennedy x wife!reader

《A/N》: I'm back babyyyyyyy. Sort of. I don't know, we'll see. This is inspired by 'Alrighty Aphrodite' by Peach Pit so take a listen if you feel like it!! FYI this can be read for ANY Leon (like most of my Leon fics) I just use RE4R Leon in the banner bc of favoritism <3

~Fi 🐝

(Pssst, my requests are open!)

《Content》: NSFW content. proceed with caution. PiV, cockwarming, creampie (don't do that) consensual groping. Very, very sweet, of course! Lotsa domestic moments with Leon, basically a collection of cute moments I think would happen on your Honeymoon <3

Reader is implied to be chubby/ has stretch marks and tummy fat bc who doesn't???? (I still love you if you don't)

《Word count》: 3.4k

Please don't copy my work! I put a lot of effort and heart into the things I write.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

The, not quite shrill, yet still very annoying sound of your alarm ripped you out of your pleasant dreams. With a soft groan you stirred in the arms of your husband, which you were comfortably pressed against.

After a quick rub of your eyes, a smile formed on your lips as you remembered what day it was.

You turned to face Leon, admiring his peaceful expression for just a moment before you couldn't resist the twitching urge in your fingertips anymore and you gently ran them down the bridge of his nose and over his cheek.

His brows furrowed slightly, and his nose scrunched up at the tickling sensation on his skin.

"Happy one week of being married, baby." You whispered softly, stroking your thumb over his cheekbone.

A dopey grin tugged at his lips, and he pulled you even closer to him with a soft hum. His lips found yours in a clumsy attempt at a good morning kiss.

"My beautiful, beautiful wife..." he mumbled against your lips, making you giggle and melt into his embrace at the same time.

"Can you believe it's been a week already?" You were cut off by yawn that decided to rudely interrupt your sentence.

"No... feels like I just fell in love with you yesterday." He let out a soft breath as his eyes fluttered shut, and he pressed his lips against your forehead, letting his touch linger as he slipped into a moment of comfort and love.

You sighed against his skin, feeling sleep still deep in your bones, but both knew you'd have to leave your shared cocoon of affection sooner than you wanted to.

"We have to get up... we'll miss our flight.." You slurred, fighting the heavy drooping of your eyelids from the warmth that Leon enveloped you in.

He grumbled softly under his breath, something about 'ungodly early flights', which made you crack a grin.

"Alright, up we go.." he groaned, heaving his body into an upright position, with you still securely in his arms, rubbing a hand over his face to get rid of the tiredness that remained in his muscles. With a peck to your nose, Leon stood from the bed, stretching his arms and neck with a yawn.

You crawled up onto your knees, your arms comfortably fitting around the curve of his neck and shoulders as you let your lips find his again in a tender kiss.

"Good morning, my handsome, handsome husband.." You purred, making Leon chuckle.

"Are you copying me, sweetheart?" He asked with a smirk as his hands migrated down to your waist.

"It's the highest form of flattery, don't you know?" You replied with a wicked grin, feeling his fingers dig just a little tighter into the flesh of your waist.

"Yeah, yeah.." he playfully rolled his eyes as you giggled, getting out of bed.

"Come on, we're on a time crunch." You let your hand slip from the embrace of his as you made your way to the bathroom.

He quietly followed you, landing a gentle slap on your ass. You yelped at the impact, jumping forward before turning around with angrily scrunched brows.

"Hey!" You pouted, rubbing the faint red mark on your skin.

"Just crunching time, babe." He shrugged with a cokcy smirk on his face.

You rolled your eyes and huffed some words under your breath, making him snicker.

"Actually, let me help you in there." He declared, reaching you in a few strides and pushing you into the bathroom.

"What- I don't need help brushing my teeth!" You argued, trying to push back against him.

"Who said anything about brushing teeth, huh, honey?" He whispered into your ear, making the hairs on your neck stand up.

"Leon-"

"Whaddaya say we get this Honeymoon started early?" He said against the skin of your neck, trailing soft kisses along the column of your throat.

"No, no, no, we have a flight to catch!" You said sternly, clinging onto the doorframe.

"Oh, come on, baby.. you know how fast I can make you fall apart.." he breathed into your ear, slipping his hands underneath your shirt.

Leon tugged at your middle, firmly enough to make you struggle but leaving enough room if you wanted to back out. With the feeling of his hands on your skin and his breath ghosting deliciously over your neck, you relented, letting your grip on the doorframe loosen.

You gently slipped past the door with him and let out a soft sigh as his lips met your neck once again as the door of the bathroom fell shut.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

With packed bags, an excited attitude about going on your Honeymoon and a couple of new love bites just below the collar of your shirt, you were off to the airport.

You yawned as you watched the few city lights pass by, the streets empty. No surprise, really.

No person would willingly be up and about at this hours, except a few joggers (who were clearly insane) and the poor souls who'd just finished the night shift.

Leon's hand envolped yours tightly, keeping hold of it while the other one was loosely wrapped around the steering wheel, as you sped down the highway.

"Don't rip my head off, but.." he broke the silence, making you turn attention away from the lights flashing past the window, "you've got all the papers 'n documents and whatever we need, right?" Leon asked, slightly chewing on his lip.

You would never let him live it down if you forget your tickets and other papers just because of the desperate morning romp that had occurred because of his neediness. You would curse him to the sun if you'd had to cancel your Honeymoon purely because he couldn't keep his hands to himself.

You chuckled and whipped out a clear folder with a plethora of printed e-mails, copies over copies of important information, and so on.

"Being overly prepared runs in the family." You chirped, waving around the, surprisingly thick, folder. Leon visibly relaxed, a dopey smile gracing his face.

"So that's why the printer ran out of ink." He mused, glancing your way. You shrugged with a mischievous glint in your eyes and Leon chuckled, pulling you into his side to press a kiss to your cheek before going back to driving down the seemingly endless roads to the airport.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"Airport coffee is truly something... special." Leon forced out, clearing his throat and disapprovingly eyeing the dark liquid in his paper cup.

"That's why you get the good stuff." You sipped your hot chocolate smugly, watching as Leon cracked a grin and pulled you into his side.

"Can I have a sip?" He asked sweetly, nosing your hair. You wordlessly handed him the cup as your head went to rest on his shoulder.

"I'll always share with you." A small smile sat on your lips as you quietly told him.

Leon raised a brow at you with the faintest hint of a smirk.

"I know for a fact, that's not true."

"Oh piss off." You grumbled, breaking into a smile.

"Tell that to the cookies you didn't share. Or the leftover Pizza. And the-"

"Okay, okay! Point is, I'm sharing now." You huffed, making Leon grin.

"Thank you, angel." He hummed, placing a kiss to your hairline.

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

You let yourself fall onto the bed with a thump, sighing in relief at the soft mattress beneath you.

"I don't know about you, but I'm ready for a nap." You said, a little mumbled. The bed shook as Leon dropped down next to you, immediately reaching for your hand.

"A nap sounds nice." He sighed, eyes falling shut. You laid in silence and soft breaths for a moment, already starting to doze off. "We could nap by the pool." He suggested, turning on his side to face you. You rolled over in a similar fashion.

"That's just your excuse to see me in a bathing suit and lather me in suncreen." You snorted, poking his chest. He cracked a smug grin.

"Would that be such a crime? A husband wanting to see his gorgeous wife in a bathing suit?" He defended with a smirk, cupping the back of your neck and gently stroking his thumb along your jaw.

"We could get lunch and maybe some drinks..." You thought out loud, weighing your options. You'd either get a good nap and be hungry when you wake up, or you could get a descent snooze plus some lunch, maybe a cocktail and a shirtless Leon.

"Alright, the pool it is." You declared, watching as Leon almost jumped off the bed with excitment.

You both packed a little bag with the essentials; sunscreen, sunglasses, a book, and whatever else you thought you'd need.

Leon was in the bathroom, making a suspicious amount of clattering noises, when he peaked his head out the door.

"Babe?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you wear the blue one? Please?" He asked bashfully, a pinkish tint on his cheeks.

Your expression softened, and your heart melted.

It amazed you how he could straight up ask you to fuck you before your flight, but asking you to wear his favorite bathing suit of yours was flustering him.

"Of course, honey."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"... Lee."

"Hm?"

"My ass does not need any more sunscreen."

"Just don't want you to get burned." He pressed a kiss to your shoulder while shamelessly massaging sunscreen into the fat of your rear.

"Leon Kennedy, get your hands off my behind before I beat yours!" You scolded, swatting his hands away.

He grinned and raised his hands in mock surrender.

"You can feel me up all you want in private, baby, but not in public."

"I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just doing my husbandly duties and making sure you weren't gonna like a tomato."

"... you're lucky I love you." You narrowed your eyes at him, huffing when he blew you a kiss.

"I love you, angel." He said softly, retreating to his own sun chair.

"I love you too, you cute idiot."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

Your wine glasses clinged together as you sat on the cold stone of your balcony, huddle together with blankets and pillows.

It was a clear night, and a few stars decided to show themselves. It wasn't necessarily cold, but the breeze that passed by did make it a little chilly.

There was the crunching of snacks and the chatter and laughter between bites as you watched the stars and the moon illuminate the vast property of the Hotel.

Other couples might've chosen to fancy up and go out for dinner but Leon and you had chosen to do what you did best; not fit in the box.

Instead of eating way too small portions for an outrageous price while pretending that you felt comfortable in such a posh setting and simultaneously being defeated by the ridiculous amounts of forks beside your plate, you had a cozy evening with the love of your life.

You did splurge on the bottle of wine, but it was your Honeymoon, after all.

The gentle gusts of wind coming up from the coast left goosebumps on your skin and a salty taste on your lips.

"Today was really nice.." You spoke quietly, enjoying the peace of the moment.

"Yeah, I think so, too. Can't wait to spend the next two weeks with you like this." Leon replied in a soft and loving tone that almost fell into a whisper. Your head rested on his shoulder, like it usually did, your hand reaching for his.

The cold metal of his ring sent a pleasant shiver up your spine as you entangled your fingers and curled closer into him.

Leon happily obliged your silent plea for closeness and wrapped you in his arms.

"I know that I won't be able to ever put into words how much I love you, so I want you to know that deeply cherish every moment with you." You looked up at him, and his features softened as he gently held your face.

"I know you do. I can... I can feel it. Is that weird? I just sort of feel the love radiating off of you all the time. I hope you feel that when you're with me as well."

You looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky himself, the same ones you were admiring, and everything in him just melted.

"I do feel it. Not only are you my husband, but you're my best friend too. Two-in- one." You smiled sweetly, scooching further up in his hold just to be that little bit closer.

"I'm so glad that I married you." He whispered, firmly pulling your lips against his in a passionate kiss.

You'd never get bored of the feeling when he kissed you, the love and tenderness pouring from it. But there was a slight ache in your heart that you'd never be able to kiss him enough to quench the raging flames inside your chest.

You pulled away for a breath, with puffy lips and shimmering eyes that showed Leon just how much you truly cared for him.

"That makes two."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

The softness of the bedsheets on his fingertips made Leon brows furrow. He was expecting a different softness; you.

Laying majestically next to him, bathed in the morning sun that poured in, even through the curtains. He lifted his head off the pillow with a disgruntled sound, blinking away the sleep in his eyes to look for you.

There were trickles and splashes of water that gently broke through the comfortably silent atmosphere. There was a slight breeze coming from the open balcony door, making the curtains sway.

Leon made his way to the terrace and, good heavens, the sight before him was enough to make him lightheaded.

You were perched on the edge of the small stone pool that you were extremely excited about ever since you laid eyes on it, skin glistening from the water with your hair intricately stuck to your back.

That would've been enough to make all the blood from Leon's cheeks to rush down south, making his boxers feel tight, but that wasn't all. There were bubbles.

Soft, foamy suds that clung to your hips and the curve of your waist, truly making you look divine with the morning sun shining down on you. Your legs were swishing in the water, taking in the peaceful morning while everyone else was far off in their dreams.

Leon's mouth hung open slightly, and it took every ounce of power in him to stop himself from drooling, but he didn't waste any time sliding the door open further to get through.

The noise made you look back over your shoulder with a soft smile when you saw him striding towards you.

Strong and familiar arms wrapped themselves around you, trying to discreetly feel you up.

"Good morning, honey." You spoke gently, stroking over his forearms that were tightly situated around your middle.

"Absolutely great morning if you ask me." He chuckled lowly, though not failing to press a kiss to your lips with such affection it almost covered any seductive intent behind his words.

"Christ, baby, you look heavenly..." he breathed against your ear, sliding his hands towards your hips to knead at the plush flesh and feel the shimmering grooves of stretch marks beneath his fingertips.

"Thought I'd wake you up with a little surprise for being the best husband a girl could ask for." You replied sweetly, trying to play innocent as if his calloused hands on your wet skin didn't ignite an inferno deep in your gut.

He let out an amused chuckle, slyly moving one hand to the pudge of your belly and the other kneading one of your soft tits.

With a soft sigh, you let your head fall back against his shoulder.

"You look like Aphrodite emerging from the sea foam, do you know that?" He asked gently, making your head spin with the way he was so easily drowning your mind in both lust and affection.

You chuckled, turning on your knees to face him.

"Well, then... will you do me the honors and be my Ares?" You purred, trailing your hand down his chest all the way to his cock straining in his boxers, cupping the member and squeezing gently.

A groan ripped from his throat and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment.

"Whatever you wish, my love." He whispered, guiding you back into the natural stone pool, watching with a ravenous gaze.

His underwear was quickly discarded, and he joined you in the water, backing you up against one of the rounded walls.

One hand on your waist, the other carefully placed on the back of your neck to cushion the hard edge of the stone

. His lips found yours in a loving manner, quite the opposite to his lusting eyes that raked over your naked form, but as much as Leon wanted to devour you, he wanted love you.

He reveled in his love for you. All he needed was to be close to you, as close as reality would allow and if that entailed him buried to the hilt inside your delightful cunt he wasn't one to complain.

Your bodies were pressed together, your tits squished up against his chest, and his dick laying heavy between your thighs. Your lips and tongues danced together like they had done so many times before, eliciting the occasional soft groan or sigh from you and Leon.

The bubbles littered on the water surface stuck to his broad back as you ran your fingers down the length of his spine.

"Can I, sweetheart?" He asked breathlessly, staring at your blown out pupils and puffy lips.

"Mhm, yes, please... need to be closer.." You responded equally as breathless before fiercely capturing his addicting lips once again.

The tip of his cock nudged at your entrance and with a shuddering breath he pushed past your lips and slid snuggly inside of you.

"F-Fuck... my perfect girl... God, I love you so much.." he groaned as quietly as he could, feeling a shiver run through him at the warm embrace of your gummy walls.

He quickly muffled himself by gently biting down on your shoulder.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, and you held him tighter, suppressing any sounds you might've made. Leon slowly rocked his hips into yours.

They weren't full thrusts, but they didn't need to be. This wasn't about an earthshattering orgasm that would knock the wind from your lungs, it was about feeling close and loved and his lazy and sloppy movements into your pussy did just that, with an added bit of pleasure.

Leon continued to rock his hips, dragging his heavy cock against your insides just right.

His pelvis hit your clit perfectly with each sloppy thrust, his happy trail adding to the euphoric sensation.

You were seeing stars by now.

Both of you were still sleepy and sensitive from waking up recently so you were at the brink of your edge already.

"Le-Leon.." You managed to get out between quiet moans that you were trying your best at biting back.

The sloshing of the water and his heavy pants were the only things in your mind as you felt the tight coil in your belly snap.

"Love you, I love you..." he slurred as he, too, reached his end. He came inside of you, pulsing against your insides.

The squeal that you felt bubbling in your throat was quickly swallowed by a hungry kiss from Leon.

He supported himself against the stone, catching his breath before he maneuvered the two of you around so you were straddling him, still nice and full.

"I love you so much, Lee." You hummed, your head resting on his shoulder.

"I wouldn't mind if everyday started like this." He smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple when you lazily slapped his arm.

"Mhm, wanna crawl inside your ribcage and live next to your heart.." you mumbled, tuckered out.

He chuckled and gently stroked your back.

"If anyone else said that to me I'd be concerned."

"You put a ring on it." You argued, pulling your hand from the water and holding it up to him.

"Hm, that I did." He hummed, gently taking your hand and kissing your ring.

"And I'd do it all over again."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ──🪷── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

I hope you enjoyed <3

(Yes, I'm aware of the bad and weird things that happen between Aphro and Ares, [poor] Hepheastus, man.] Just let me have this okay)

More Leon works --> 💫

《Tag List》: @k-fallingstar @dmitriene @vampkennedy @agrerion

(Lmk if you want to be added to my Leon Tag list!)

[arisewanekosuki]

TLH -Extra-: Love Potion! - Lisa (Feat. Aether/Diluc/Venti/Gorou x Fem!Reader)

-"Lisa.....it is possible to make a Love Potion?" The librarian took a sip of her tea and then smiled at you. -"Oh my....is the little cutie having feelings for someone?" After that, you heard some glass hitting of one another and a gasp -"Aether! Watch out!!" You looked behind Lisa to see Aether who almost dropped a new batch of potions and Paimon holding a bottle and scolding him for not being careful. After making sure they don't need your help, you look back at the librarian. -"It's not that I want to use it on someone... After making so many potions with Aether I just started to wonder if it's even possible to make Love Potion too." You tilted your head, wondering. Love Potions are a popular concept in fantasy stories. You saw the magic of the potions you made with your companion, so you couldn't stop wondering if it's possible to make one that will bring two people together in this world too. The purple witch closed her eyes, with a smile not leaving her face. -"Then I want to ask you... How would such a Love Potion work in your opinion?" You hummend. -"Something like, the person who will drink it will feel more relaxed around the other person? Or maybe the person can use potion on their skin and the smell will make other people attracted to them?" Lisa giggled. -"Oh my....are you planning to make all the people in the city fall in love with you?" -"Wha-!? N-no! ... Alright, the potion used on skin is a bad idea..." -"But I like your ideas... most people  would say that a Love Potion should make someone immediately fall in love with the first person they see. A potion like this is possible to make of course but it is morally wrong to use one like this." Lisa poured more tea to her and your cups. You thanked her and asked. -"Have you ever made one before?" -"Oh? Are you interested in my love life?" -"W-well..." You played with your fingers, Lisa laughed. -"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't but coming back to the subject... I won't mind for you to try making your own 'Love Potion', you can consider this as a small test from me. She was still smiling, but you felt a chill run down your spine. You gulped. -"Before you start you have to promise me that you will be the one testing the effects of your Love Potion, alright?" -"A-alright..." You nodded, maybe this wasn't a good idea to ask about it, but you won't lie, it's exciting to try to make such a new potion.

....

Aether watched you working on this new potion. He knows this is a bad idea and yet deep down he wishes for it to work even for a moment and have you shower him with affection and love. You promised Lisa that you will be the one testing it and Aether is there to make sure you won't be jumping on random people to kiss them or something. -"Are you sure about that?" the blond boy asked. You looked at him with a big smile. -"Of course! It's really fun! I used Zatyun Peaches, Marcotte, Dandelion, Glaze Lily... let's see..." You put the mixture into heart shaped glass. The color was pink mixed with purple. "Okay... let's try it!" You took a sip. -Oh! Is (Y/n) testing the potion now?" Paimon flew towards you, wanting to see how it would go. You licked your lips. -"So how are you feeling?" The little girl asked. -"Hm... normal." You shrugged. "The taste is a bit off though." -"So the first one failed? Don't worry (Y/n)! I'm sure the next one will work! ... (Y/n)? Why are you looking at Paimon like that?" -"..." You placed your hands on Paimon's cheeks and then started to pinch them. -"Uwaaa! Paimon!!! Your cheeks are so chubby! So cute!! Like a hamster!!" Paimon tried to run away from your grasp but you held her tight and started to hug her. Nuzzling your face into a little girl's head. -"Why are you so cute?! This should be illegal!!" -"Aaaa! Aether!! Help me!!!" But the boy didn't do anything. He stood there watching all of this with a pout. "Why couldn't this happen to me?" he thought. ... You sighed. Thankfully the potion worked only for 5 minutes. After drinking the potion Paimon started to look very cute in your eyes and you got the urge to hug and smooch her cheeks. -"This...wasn't the effect I was looking for..." -"Next time do that to Aether! Paimon felt like some toy!!" the little girl pouted still hiding behind the golden haired boy. -"I'm so sorry Paimon! I didn't expect to lose control like this!" Paimon only did small 'hmph' and went to gather more flowers. -”I have to buy Paimon some Sweet Madame later…” you scratched your head, looking at an angry, little girl flying over the garden. “Okay, let’s go back to making potions!” Aether watched you putting ingredients into the pot. You look so cute when you concentrate on something, he really wanted to leave a kiss on your cheek now. And maybe he will be able to, if the potion works of course. He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn’t realize that you finished your second one. -”Oh! Master Diluc! Welcome back!” Paimon shouted. Aether looked over where the red haired male stood. He wondered if there was some problem with the batch they sent to Dawn Winery, so he went to ask Diluc about that. -”Welcome back, was there any problem with potions?” -”No, I wanted to commission you to make another one with different effect-” -”Diluc!!! Welcome!!!” You jumped on the red haired man, holding on to him tightly. Both guys were surprised. Diluc didn’t know what to do, after you jumped at him, he stopped moving. “Ah I missed you so much! My heart is in pain without you!” You nuzzled your head into his chest. -”(Y/n)! Let Master Diluc go! We are sorry! (Y/n) was trying to make Lo- testing new potions, so she ends up behaving like this! Aether don’t just stare! Help Paimon!!!” The white haired girl shouted at Traveler who was standing in place, too shocked that again your affection was given to another person. And the worst part is that it is given to another guy! You held tightly to the young Master of Dawn Winery. -”No! I won’t let go! Diluc is so warm! I want to stay with him! Oh? I knew it! You feel the same, right? Your face is so red! Hehe~” You giggled, seeing the red cheeks of Diluc. He tried to cover his face with one hand and turn his head away from you, but with your hold on him it was hard. -”That’s it!” Paimon shouted and then started to tickle you, hoping it would make you let go of Diluc.  And it worked, even too well. You tried to run away from Paimon but you ended up falling on the ground with the little girl not showing any mercy. 

When Paimon stopped tickling you, you needed some time to take your breath. -”Are you alright?” Aether that was crouching by your side, asked. -”Ha…ha…y-yeah… I’m better now…” Aether held his hand for you to help you get up from the ground. “Thanks!” You smiled and then looked at the red haired man. “I’m sorry Diluc for that. The potion I was working on didn’t go well as it seems. Ah! I have to write everything down!” And you ran off to the table where you are making potions. Aether sighed. “Next time I have to stay close to her no matter what.” He thought. Meanwhile Diluc finally calmed his fast beating heart down. He coughed into his hand. -”It seems you both are busy… I’ll come another time.” -”Wa! But Master Diluc! We can still take your order!! Oi!” Paimon shouted but Diluc already left. Right now he wished he had Cryo vision to cool down his red cheeks. 

… -”Done! The third one should be a success!” You held up the potion to show to Aether and Paimon. The little girl already hid behind the Traveler. -”How does this potion work?” the boy finally asked. -”Hm? Oh! I want to make a potion that fills you with confidence! Like you know, if someone is planning to confess! If I lost control over my emotions and stuff that means I failed…Ok! Let’s try this one!” You drank it. -”So…how are you feeling?” Paimon asked, still being behind Aether. -”Normal… the taste is at least better!” And you three just stood there in silence for a moment. -”Weird. I don't feel different either…” -”Hello there my good friends!” you all heard a sing-song voice. -”Wa!! Tone-Deaf Bard!! Don’t scare Paimon like that!” the little girl pouted and crossed her arms. -”Ehe~!” -”Ugh Paimon have enough! Why are you even here?!” Venti make sad face -”Aw, I just wanted to check what my dear friends are up to…but it seems you don’t want this poor lil old me here…” The bard turned around “Ah how sad that I’m not welcome here…” he said with a sad tone. The truth is he wanted to tease Paimon a bit, but what he didn’t expect is that your arms would embrace his torso from behind. Your head on his shoulder. -”Don’t say that, Venti. You know we are always happy when you’re with us. I love hearing you sing or recite poems or play on your Lyre. And of course we love hanging out with you!” you said, your cheek pressing towards his one. It’s hard to surprise Venti, he is not moved when someone tries to charm him either. And yet there you are, making Anemo Archon’s heart beat speed. -“Oh? Is that so? So you won’t mind if I stay for awhile then?~” You turned him around and grabbed his cheeks. -“Of course we won’t! Stay as long as you want!” your thumbs started to do small circles on his cheeks. Venti was stunned because of such close contact.  “Did anyone said how pretty you are?” You continued while playing with one of his braids. But before the bard could say anything, someone took you away from him. -“It seems the potion works….but not in a way it should.” Said Aether, glaring at Anemo Archon while hugging you from behind. You looked surprised, but then smiled and pat the golden haired boy’s cheek. -“Aww, is someone jealous? Don’t worry Aether…you’re pretty too!” Paimon flew over Venti to explain your behavior.

… This time the effect of the potion lasted longer. You spend one hour complimenting the boys, holding their hands or caressing their cheeks. They didn’t complain, they decided to just bath in your affections. Even when the potion stopped working and you were apologizing for all those stuff you did, they were smiling saying “Don’t worry!” in their heads they wished the potion lasted longer. Venti had to go, he promised Diona to help find some more stuff for her new drink. But he didn’t mind to leave so soon, your attention towards him and touches brought him to such a good mood that even now he is coming up with new songs and poems. He hopes that you’ll listen to them later.

Meanwhile you were feeling burned out. None of the potions worked the way you wanted and you’re not sure what you are doing wrong. You were looking at your notes but feeling a bit frustrated you just closed the notebook and sighed. -“What’s wrong (Y/n)?” The boy asked who was sitting by your side. -“I.. I’m just angry I failed so many times… we did so many potions that I thought I can make something like this…” Aether patted your back. -“How about a small break? Maybe you’ll get an idea how to improve it after you relax a bit?” -“Yeah!” Paimon flew over with flowers in her hands “We didn’t eat anything in some hours!! Your belly is empty and this is why you can’t come up with anything!” You giggled. -“Alright, let’s go to eat then!” Paimon fly higher like she wanted to jump in the air shouting “Yay!!”. Your group decided to go to Good Hunter for a meal.

After filling your bellies with good food, you come back to working on the potion. -“Alright… this is my last attempt… if it won’t work then I give up.” You said to your companions and started working on the mixture.  You were writing something on your notebook, Aether is always curious what you write there but he can’t read it at all, even if he visited so many worlds he didn’t know your language (or maybe he doesn’t remember it anymore?). The connection between him and you helps you to understand and speak in Teyvat language but you can’t read Teyvat alphabet and people from here and him can’t read your alphabet. He is really wondering why this connection can help with speaking but not reading, there are many mysteries about it. -“I finished it!” you suddenly shouted, surprising Aether. “Okay…here we go!” and drank it immediately. “It tastes sweet…too sweet…ugh…”  you said, closing your eyes. -“Hey everyone!” Everyone turned toward Gorou who was approaching your little group. -“Gorou, wait! Don’t move--!” But before Aether could finish his sentence you ran towards the Watatsumi General. -“Hm?” Gorou stopped moving and looked at you. The both of you looked at each other without saying anything. “Is there a probl-“ -“Marry me!!” you shouted. Kneeling in front of him and holding his hand. -“WHAT?!” everyone shouted. Gorou's ears and tail were standing up. -“I know it’s sudden but Gorou! I want to spend the rest of my life with you!” You put his hand where your heart is. -“B-but (Y-Y/n) this is…this is too sudden!” he said but anyone who was behind him could see his tail start wagging. -“I know! But I don’t want to waste any more sec- uwah?! “ you were interrupted by Aether who tried to take you away from the cannie warrior. -“Sorry Gorou! Don’t take this seriously, she drank a weird potion and is…a bit crazy!!” said Paimon and then helped Aether to take you away. Gorou stood there stunned, his face was red. -“So…does it mean you and (Y/n) are married now?” Kirara asked, approaching him. -“Wha- N-no…” his ears fall. -“You look disappointed.” -“I’m not!” But yes, he is.

When you come to your senses you apologize, you’re so embarrassed that you proposed to someone. You think you won’t be able to look Gorou in the eyes for some time. This was a big failure and you gave up. When talking with Lisa, she said to not worry, even if the potions didn’t work how you wanted you still learned some things. You decided to take a small break from making potions and took a nap under the tree, while Aether continued to make potions that people commissioned. Lisa watched from her table and sighed. -“It’s a shame Razor wasn’t there…” then she chuckled “But oh well, at least I had some fun watching all of this~” and then she took a sip of her tea.

-Bonus- In Inazuma, the pink kitsune laughed loudly. -“Ah I wish I could see this with my own eyes~” said with a smile, trying to imagine the whole scenario. -“Paimon said it was because of potion…at first I thought (Y/n) was serious about that nya! -“Hmm… I think this gave me some ideas. Thank you Kirara for sharing about your trip with me.” Yae Miko eyes’ looked like a predator finding it’s another meal. -“A-ahaha! You’re welcome!” Kirara at this moment started wondering if it was really alright to tell Yae about her trip with Gorou to Mondstadt.

------ Thank you for reading till the end! And sorry for mistakes >.< You can guess I had the idea when I played the potion event but because I couldn't use my PC I had hard time to finish it in peace... But now I can use my PC again so I'll try finish other things! I'll post other short thing today or tomorrow that I started to write in that time without my PC. It may not be that great but I hope you'll still like it!

[sosa2imagines]

You, me and Vegas! Part 12

Warning- Fluff, angst. realization.

After his parents left, Bucky was restlessly and desperately trying to call Peach on her phone.

Bucky's heart sank when he looked around the living room and noticed Peach's phone lying on the coffee table. She had left it behind in her haste to leave, and he couldn't call her to apologize.

He picked up the phone, looking at the screen. It was ringing, but of course, there was no response. She was probably already at Wanda's. He put the phone back down, feeling even more guilty and frustrated than before.

Bucky was still pacing around the apartment, unable to calm his thoughts. He couldn't stand the silence and solitude any longer. He needed to talk to someone, to get a different perspective on the situation.

He picked up his phone and called Steve, hoping he wasn't busy.

Steve sat down next to him, still in shock. “God, Buck,” he said, shaking his head. “You're a real piece of work, you know that?” He sounded a bit scolding, but his eyes were filled with more concern than anger.

Bucky closed his eyes, leaning back against the couch. “Yeah, I know,” he muttered. “I royally screwed up. Big time. I hurt Peach. And I don't know how to fix it this time.”

Steve took a moment before responding, letting the pieces fall into place. “Wait a minute,” he said suddenly, realization dawning. “Is this why you've been so...happy lately? All smiley and all that?”

Bucky looked at Steve, his expression sheepish. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Peach makes me happy. She's just...she's different. She understands me, and she's so good to me, even when I don't deserve it. She has made me realize, that I don't have to be serious all the time. I can find happiness, in even smaller things in life. I don't have to be what my parents want me to be...”

Bucky ran a hand through his hair again. “But tonight, I let her down,” he said, his voice heavy with regret. “I stood there like a coward and let my parents insult her right in front of me. I let her leave without saying a word. I've been a total prick.”

Steve could see the pain and frustration in Bucky's eyes, and he understood. He had seen firsthand how controlling and critical Bucky's parents could be.

“Bucky,” he said, his voice gentler now. “It's okay. It's never easy standing up against your parents, especially when they're like that. So…you have fallen in love with Peach, huh?”

Bucky nodded, a small, sad smile playing on his lips. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “I have. I love her. I didn't want to, I tried so hard to not fall for her, to not get so attached.”

He looked at Steve, his eyes filled with pain. “But I can't help it. She's just...she's everything I've ever wanted, but didn't know I needed. And now I've royally screwed it all up.”

Steve sat silently, listening to Bucky's confession with a mixture of concern and understanding. After a moment, he asked, “Have you tried talking to her?”

Bucky shook his head, looking down at his hands in his lap. “No,” he said quietly. “I couldn't. After what happened at dinner, she stormed out, and she didn't even take her phone. And honestly, I don't blame her. I wouldn't wanna talk to me either.”

Steve sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You gotta talk to her, Buck,” he said firmly. “You gotta apologize and make things right. She's important to you, yeah?”

Bucky nodded, his expression one of determination now. “She is,” he affirmed. “More important than anything, anyone else. I need to fix this. I need to make things right with her. Tomorrow we are getting annulled, maybe I can get to talk to her before that.”

Steve clapped a hand on Bucky's shoulder. “You got this, man...” he said encouragingly. “Go talk to her, and make things right. And if you mess up again, I'm gonna knock some sense into you. And seriously, STOP PAYING ATTENTION TO YOUR PARENTS!”

Bucky chuckled weakly at Steve's last words. “Yeah, I know,” he said, his voice a bit steadier. “I gotta stop letting my parents get to me. But it's not easy to break a habit of a lifetime, you know?”

“I know,” Steve said with a nod. “But you gotta do it, for your own sake. And for Peach's. You want her in your life, right?”

“More than anything,” Bucky replied, his voice firm and resolute. “I can't lose her. And I'm gonna do whatever it takes to make things right with her. I have fallen in love with her, Steve. I need to tell her, how I feel.”

Steve smiled at Bucky's determination. “That's the spirit,” he said approvingly. “Go get your girl. I have faith in you. And as for your parents? I'm pretty sure you'll explode at them.”

Bucky laughed, the first genuine laugh he'd had since dinner. “Yeah, I probably will. But I don't care. I've spent way too long caring about what my parents think of me. It's time I start living for myself, on my own terms.”

Steve grinned, clapping Bucky on his back. “Good man. Now, you fix things with Peach, first thing tomorrow morning, and we'll see if I can come up with some strategy to deal with your parents. Now try to get some rest.”

Meanwhile, Peach was pacing back and forth in Wanda's living room, the anger and frustration from the evening's events still coursing through her body. She had told Wanda everything, about the drunken marriage, the dinner, Bucky's inaction, how she had left.

As she spoke, Wanda listened, her expression one of shock and concern. She knew how much Bucky meant to Peach, and she could see how hurt Peach was by the evening's events.

“And his parents!” Peach exclaimed, throwing her hands up in frustration. “I don't think I've ever met someone as judgmental and annoying as them. They act like they're so perfect, but they're just assholes. They were so rude, they just kept going on and on about how I'm not 'on their level' because I'm not rich like them or something.”

Peach stopped pacing for a moment, looking at Wanda. “But you know what?”

Wanda shook her head, a small smile playing on her lips at Peach's words. She could tell how riled up she was, and she didn't blame her. Bucky's parents did sound like a handful.

“The worst part is,” Peach continued, starting to pace again. “Despite all their criticism, I still think Bucky looks hot. I know, I know, it's crazy. But that haircut I gave him? Made him look adorable. And that stubble of his...it suits him.”

Wanda couldn't help but laugh at Peach's frustration. “Oh man, you really have it bad, don't you?” she teased lightly. “You know this whole situation is a mess, right?”

Peach looking at her with a confuse expression, “what?” Peach then started just to ramble, “I just care about him. He is different from the men I have seen in my life. He is so shy and fun when loosen up. He is a really good man, kind and I love him and I want him to be happy!”

Peach was so lost in her rant about Bucky, she didn't realize what she had just confessed. It wasn't until she said the words ‘I love him’ that she froze, the realization of what she had just said dawning on her.

Wanda, who had been listening quietly, couldn't help but burst into laughter at Peach's shocked expression. “You did not just say that!?” she managed to get out between laughs. “Oh my god, you hadn't realized, you love him?”

Peach blushed furiously, burying her head in her hands. “I can't believe I said that out loud,” she muttered into her palms. “I...I didn't even realize I...”

She trailed off, her thoughts a jumble. She hadn't even processed her feelings for Bucky yet, and now they were confirmed. She did love him. For real.

Wanda, sensing her friend's internal turmoil, sat down beside her and patted her back. “It's okay, Peach,” she said warmly. “It's okay to love him. But what are you gonna do about it?”

Peach lifted her head from her hands, her cheeks still pink. “I don't know,” she said honestly. “I mean, look at the mess we're in. We got drunk and married, his parents don't even know about us, and to top it all off, we're getting an annulment tomorrow.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow. “And you still love him?”

Peach sighed, sinking back onto the couch. “Yeah, I do,” she said quietly, a mixture of sadness and defeat in her voice. “I fell in love with the idiot, and now I don't know what to do. I don't even know if he loves me too?”

Wanda put a comforting arm around her shoulders. “But you want him to love you back, right?” she asked gently.

“Yes! But what if...”

Wanda squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. “Peach, you never know unless you try,” she said gently. “You have to talk to him. Tell him how you feel, and see how he responds. But you won't know if you don't communicate.”

“I left my phone at his place and I can't go back...I don't know if his parents are still there.” Peach pouted.

Wanda patted Peach's back sympathetically. “Yeah, that's a bit of a problem,” she said, a small frown on her face. “You don't want to run into his parents again, that's for sure. But you gotta get your phone back, right? You need it. You can use it as an excuse to go back or...maybe you can talk to him tomorrow, when you meet for the annulment.”

Peach considered this for a moment, her brow furrowed in thought. “Yeah, you're right,” she said finally. “I do need my phone. But going back to his apartment isn't a good idea, not with his parents being there. I don't want to deal with them again. I'll go over there, in the morning to talk to him.”

Wanda nodded. “That's probably for the best,” she agreed. “You'll have time to collect your thoughts and what you want to say to him. But just remember, you need to be honest with him about how you feel. You can't keep everything bottled up, it'll drive you crazy.”

Peach nodded, a determined look in her eye. “Yeah, I know,” she said, wiping away the tears that were now dried on her face. “It's just...I'm scared. I'm scared of his response. What if he doesn't feel the same way? Then what?”

Wanda shrugged, her voice gentle yet firm. “Then you'll have to accept it, no matter how much it hurts. But at least you'll have tried. And who knows, he might surprise you. But you won't know until you talk to him, right?”

Peach nodded, taking a deep breath. “You're right,” she said, her voice a little steadier now. “I need to talk to him. I need to know how he feels, and if he doesn't feel the same, then at least I've tried, like you said. It's not going to be easy though.

Bucky couldn't sleep. The guilt about not standing up for Peach was like a weight on his chest, pressing down harder with every passing minute. He kept picturing her face, the hurt in her eyes, how she must be feeling right now.

His parents' words echoed in his head too, their disapproval of Peach, their insistence that he needed someone ‘better’. But he knew he didn't want anyone else. He only wanted Peach.

Peach tossed and turned in Wanda's guest bed, her thoughts swirling in a mixture of anger and frustration. Everywhere she looked, she saw Bucky's face. His wide grin, his bright eyes, the way his face lit up when he saw her. And that thought only led back to his parents.

She muttered curses under her breath, directing all her anger and frustration at them. How they had ruined everything. How they had come between her and Bucky.

Bucky lay awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkened room. His mind was racing, replaying the events of the day. The almost-kiss with Peach replayed in his mind over and over, a vivid memory that sent his heart racing.

The memory of their almost kiss filled her thoughts, adding to her frustration. They had been so close to something more, something real. But his parents had come barging in, shattering the moment and leaving her feeling shattered too.

“Those assholes!!!!” she muttered, punching her pillow in anger. Why did they have to ruin everything?”

Wanda's voice suddenly rang out from the other room, startling Peach from her thoughts. “Go to sleep, Peach!” she called out firmly.

Peach groaned in response, burying her head under the pillow. Easier said than done, she thought. How was she supposed to sleep when her mind was racing like this?

Bucky kept wondering what would have happened, if he had just gone with his instincts and kissed her. Would she have accepted it? Would things have developed differently between them?

As Peach stared at the ceiling, she couldn't help but think about what the night could have been like. Bucky and her, chatting about everything and nothing. Laughing, smiling, their bodies close together. They were supposed to talk about what came next, after the annulment. Was this just going to be a one-time thing? Were they going to continue seeing each other after this?

The questions swirled in her head, each potential answer filling her with equal parts excitement and uncertainty.

Bucky couldn’t stop thinking, how they were supposed to spent the night together, as husband and wife before the big day tomorrow.

Peach gritted her teeth, her anger flaring up again as she once again thought about Bucky's parents. “Those god-damn parents of his!” she muttered, punching her pillow again. “If they hadn't ruined everything, Bucky and I would be together right now. We'd be planning for our future.”

Wanda, shouted again from her room, “Yeah maybe he would have put a baby in you! For love of god go to sleep and murder his parents in your dream!”

Peach blushed furiously, her mind immediately going to places it shouldn't. But as the thought of Bucky putting a baby in her filled her mind, she realized Wanda had a point. Maybe things could have gone further tonight, if it weren't for his parents.

Her blush deepening, she yelled back at Wanda, “Not helping! And yes, I will murder them in my dream!”

Part 11 - Part 13

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[yandere-paramour]

How would Vivien react to a darling. Who's terrified of them. ( I mean he kipnapped them what else would he do to them ? ) Darling would refuse to eat. ( what if they put something in the food ? ) They would have actual mental breakdown crying their eye out if he is to close of them or in the same room for to long.

Vivien's gonna have to calm down and be soft this time.

He really, really doesn't want you to feel scared or hurt around him, and the best way for him to make sure of that is for him to talk to you. He'll sit on the floor across from you, criss-cross-applesauce, with his hands in full view on his knees. He'll speak to you about how he saw you when you came into his shop one day, how he fell in love at first sight, and how he can't live without you. He's really sorry for kidnapping you, but he heard you were leaving town and he couldn't take that chance. He will never force himself on you, not as long as he lives, but he hopes you will stay with him.

First, he'll start with assuaging your fears, really putting some action to his words. He's perceptive, he knows you're afraid of him, and he can tell if you're afraid of anything he gives you. So, when he brings you dinner, he'll let you choose whichever plate you want and he'll eat the other one. He'll bring you snacks and water and juice in unopened bottles and packages so you're not worried he'll poison you. When he brings you fresh fruit, he'll eat from the bowl too. If you really want, he'll let you prepare dinner if you'll allow him to help. You really don't have to worry about him poisoning you; he'll taste-test anything you want.

Next, he'll start with treats. Anytime he comes home from work, he'll bring you something. Maybe a nice mango smoothie, maybe a cookie from the new place that opened up near his work, maybe a new book from the bookshop. Every couple of days, he'll bring you a new bouquet with a note explaining every flower in his scraggly handwriting. One by one, day by day, he'll win your affections.

Even if you start out being terrified of him, you'll slowly realize that he's really not that bad. If it makes you cry to be near him, he'll get up and leave the room whenever you come in. He'll do anything to make you feel better. Maybe one day you catch him singing to his plants one day before work, maybe you catch him talking through a drink recipe or bath bomb mixture. He'll always ask you if he wants your opinion on something, and usually, you have the final say on decisions. He'll always ask before holding your hand or touching you (excluding emergencies). You learn that he's soft and gentle and kind, and slowly your hate will turn to tolerance which will turn to affection.

One night, you'll be watching a movie on opposite ends of the couch, him being careful not to touch you and overstep any boundaries. He made some of his special drinks for you two, something with peach and rosemary, and it's good. He smiled like the sun when you said you liked it, and he offered to make it for you another hundred times, or even teach you how to make it yourself. Hesitantly, he said there was a concert he'd like to go to soon, if you'd be interested. Of course, you'd have to behave, he made that clear, but he said he'd like to go to more things with you. He doesn't like the thought of you being bored and lonely in the house.

Two months ago, you would've happily agreed and ran at your first possible opening. But now, you're not so sure. It's really not bad being here, and he's a great roommate. He cooks, cleans, and always apologizes when he loudly watches anime half the night. He always says if you want to go back to work in the future, you're welcome to, but otherwise he'll support you. All you have to do is stay with him. He's attractive, hot even; you've seen the evenings when he's come out of the bathroom, basketball shorts slung low enough on his hips that you can see the muscles pointing straight to his groin before he excuses himself to his bedroom to get a shirt. You try to avert your eyes in time, but you find you can't. Those perverted thoughts keep you up at night, but you find you don't care.

You could really see yourself loving him, being with him, being intimate with him.

Tentatively, your hand starts to move away from your side, over the seat cushions, and towards him. When your hand bumps against his leg, he almost convulses. He throws himself from his seat to the floor, immediately hurling himself into apologies, saying he didn't mean to touch you and he would never take advantage of you like that and he's really really really sorry. He's almost in hysterics as he tries to convince you that he wasn't trying to be creepy or anything, and you almost don't want to interrupt the adorably panicked expression on his face.

When you say that you were trying to hold his hand, he just looks at you for a second, like he didn't quite hear you properly. You say it again, and that doesn't change his look, but he does ask a soft "Are you sure? You don't have to" like he isn't expecting you to agree.

His hands are rough and calloused, but warm. In fact, all of him seems to be warm. His eyes aren't focused on the TV anymore, the only thought you can see running through his head is the word "HAND" repeating. But his thumb idly strokes your knuckles, and it feels as nice as you thought it would. He holds your hand for the whole rest of the movie, and mock-bows and gives it a second-long kiss before bed. He thanks you for the opportunity to hold your perfect hand and heads to his own room to sleep, not asking for anything more.

In the morning he is all smiles, making homemade bacon waffles and cut-up berries. He asks if you want to take a walk with him later and five minutes in, he shyly asks if he can hold your hand again. When you agree, he has to jump up and down a few times to expel some energy before he can do it, and you walk around the lake and feed the ducks some green peas Vivien keeps in his pockets.

That night, he knocks at your door, and when you open it, he shoves a small bouquet of blue and pink hydrangeas at you before running back to his own room. The card thanks you for the lovely day and asks if he may start dating you for real and if he might, and its totally cool if you say no because he won't force you it was just a suggestion, kiss you.

Yeah. You could see yourself loving this man sometime soon.

[py-dreamer]

Yea!!! Can you tell I have favorites lol

so since it's the 20th in my time, it is officially my birthday today!

But I wanted to get this out regardless so kinda count it as the previous day's ig

I will be posting something later today probably but it will most likely just be a compilation of all the cakes I've done thus far.

Ok but um on with the cake!

It's like a cheesecake and I basically copied Tengen's cake with like a jelly filling with fruit suspended in it, peaches (obviously), strawberries and blueberries cause I like them and sod it I'll put them on this goddamn cake!

The thing Wukong's sitting on is one of those peach ice creams that's gotten so popular lately with the sprinkle of pink dust thingy on top.

On either side of the cake is the fillet from the journey and the hat from the brotherhood era, one from his reckless past and one from his redemption and I just think that's neat.

The blue puffy stuff is meant to be his nimbus clouds represented as cotton candy.

I have the baiju jar in there as reference to Wukong becoming immortal again due to the all the wine made from the peaches of immortality at the festival.

The staff as a little candle was so fun! And I like pocky so I chucked them on there to fill space and it looks good so sue me

The grey thing behind the staff and balloon is meant to be the Buddha's hand that trapped him under the mountain and a reference to his imprisonment under 5 phases mountain.

Peach popsicle! Of course I had too! A lil something from the present for our (shadow) peachy friend

Mk's stone as well, had to add his son in there too. The baby ever.

(probably just a cookie but it's the thought that counts)

The two sugar cookies are meant to be his logo (aka the lmk logo) and fireworks, again taken from Tengen's cake.

The sun is a candied/tanghulu esque orange thing. Like an orange slice coated in yellow melted sugar shaped like a sun and the phoenix feather cap since I consider it iconic enough to put in here. I didn't want to put it on him, blocking a lot of the decorations so I just hung it to the side and I think I'm happy with that.

A lot more monkeys here! It was very fun popping them in! I know I only gave Mac 1 but I mean Wukong's the monkey king for a reason. Let him be a loving grandpa and invite his subjects on the cake with him. He granted them immortality by ripping their names out the book of dead, let them have a place on the cake too

Also, yes that is the origami pilgims in the bottom left, I couldn't leave them alone could I?

Now the elephant in the room (or at least in my head), yes I did use @maplesleep's matcha pancake design for flower fruit mountain.

Cake on cake. Bit much but hey, I like cake and pastries better than candy normally so win for me.

And I couldn't just make cake about Sun Wukong without mentioning his home/origins of ffm. I do genuinely love the inginuity and adorableness factor of the pancake design and hope they don't mind me slapping it on my...cheesecake? Jelly cake? Jelly-cheesecake?

(also I have to ask @maplesleep, did you watch the 3rd emirichu anime cafe video, specifically the urusei yatsura cafe as inspiration for the 'sun wukong's strawberry sponge cake punishment' parfait thingy, gorgeously drawn btw I used those drawings as inspiration quite a bit for these cakes, or saw the urusei yatsura collab anime cafe

cause I couldn't help but notice the similarities between that and the 'shinobu's maiden strength parfait' cause if you didn't that be a pretty funny coincidence lol)

So what do you think? You think I could make it as another lmk food chef for lego? Can I join the club lmao?

I do realize in retrospect the disrespect I did Mk by making his cake so plain by comparison to his mentor's. But I think that's a testament to my improvement and attention to detail when making these cakes as the days have progressed!

I consider Mk's in particular to be the most lacking and I lowkey feel so bad for my boi for not giving him the main character status he deserves.

I might draw him again, idk. Not anytime soon though, like I said, I'm quite busy now more than before and I need a break, still glad I could serve y'all another slice of cake though!

[pianokantzart]

The One To Blame

A one shot based off this discussion, so I hold @a-la-orilla-del-rio and @istadris responsible.

UPDATE: It has expanded past being a one shot and is now available on A03, (or you can continue reading it here on Tumblr): Part 2 Part 3

______ Luigi hid amongst the jagged stone and brutish architecture of Bowser's castle, thankful for the large collection of self-aggrandizing statues that provided the perfect cover, creating long dark shadows and small cramped corners he could hide in. At the same time, the decor pricked at old memories that he struggled to push aside: bound and frightened, disoriented and confused, dragged by aching wrists to where he and Bowser first met face to face. Luigi would’ve been happy to stay a thousand miles away from The Darklands for the rest of his life, but he couldn't allow his brother to embark on this rescue mission all by himself. Even if Luigi knew for certain that Mario didn't need his help, he wished to do everything in his power to see to Princess Peach's safe return. She had put her life on the line to save him once before, it was only right to do the same for her.

Luigi's head began to ache from unreleased adrenaline as he crept along the edges of the throne room, slowly venturing near enough to hear the group of voices gathered around Bowser. The small plumber tentatively peeked out from obsidian pedestal of one of the statues, and observed the unfolding scene. The King of The Koopas stood at the base of his towering throne of masonry and wrought iron, Kamek at one side, and on his other side Princess Peach, locked in an enormous gilded cage of rose gold, filled with plush pink furniture. She was safe. Unhappy, of course, but unharmed. Luigi allowed himself a quiet sigh of relief.

Bowser was commiserating with a squadron of paratroopers, the most highly decorated of them fluttering at the forefront, eye-to-eye with the king.

"The Prison Ship was forced to make an emergency landing near The Valley Fortress,” the soldier explained with a salute. “Word got back that Mario has disappeared, but he couldn’t have gone far! We'll recapture him soon enough."

Hearing this, Luigi couldn't help but smile. The Prison Ship was where he and Mario were forced to split up. It was where Luigi had no choice but to run for the sake of his own survival and leave his big brother behind. Mario did his best to ease Luigi's fears, swearing his own safety and promising that he'd figure out a plan. It appeared Mario was true to his word, and now Bowser's forces were running themselves ragged trying to track him down. It was as good a spur-of-the-moment plan as any: Mario would hold the attention of The Dark Lands while he– Luigi – freed Princess Peach. They’d escape the castle, regroup with Mario, and find their way back to The Mushroom Kingdom. Simple. Easy. No problem.

The paratrooper proved himself worthy of his position as he remained firm in his saluting position, not even flinching as Bowser began to shout.

"Don't recapture him! Sparing him at all was a mistake! Give the order to kill on sight!" "No!" The harsh voice of Princess Peach, normally so calm and gentle, was startling to hear as she slammed her fists against the cage door. The sincerity in her upset appeared to flip a switch in Bowser's manner, evoking something resembling sympathy. He dismissed his troops, and as they fluttered out of the room Bowser turned to his beloved, hands held out plaintively.

"Peaches! I know it's hard to accept, but this is what is best for us, I promise you!" "Us?!" Peach huffed, struggling to maintain her royal composure. "There is no us! Ever since we've met you have done nothing but try to destroy everything I care about!" "Exactly! we've been fighting each other for so long when we should have been fighting for each other! You didn't even have time to recognize my good qualities, just like it took me so long to finally recognize yours..." He looked almost pitiable, big-eyed and pleading as he kneeled down and held his hands over his heart. "But you'll see! I'll prove to you how much of a match we are. You'll forget those silly, fleeting feelings you had for Mario-" "No! I… There are no feelings, Bowser!" Luigi couldn't help but feel Peach's voice lacked conviction, but he hoped that the draconic tyrant would take her for her word as she continued... "We're friends. Just friends, don't you understand? And Mario doesn't love me either. The only reason he ever accompanied me was because he was worried about his brother."

A strange silence hung in the air. Luigi felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and Peach placed her hands to her mouth in slow realization of the dangers of what she'd just said. Before she could make an effort to undo her mistake, Bowser broke the silence.

"His brother... Luigi," he muttered in a voice thick with revulsion. "So, he's the one Mario told you he was after? And if the gossip that floats between your palace guards is worth believing, Luigi is also the one who first discovered the warp pipe that led to our world."

"Bowser, please don't." Peach begged, "he's my friend too." "Why!?" Luigi couldn't help but cover his ears as Bowser's voice shook the throne room. Smoke poured from his nostrils, his chest heaving with rage. "He didn't train with you! He didn't travel alongside you! He didn't go to the ends of the earth to win you over! All he ever did was jump in at the last second to save Mario!" That final sentence triggered a fresh wave of anger. His eyes flashed red, clawed hands curling in front of him like he was trying to wring an invisible throat. "Mario. I'd have already killed him if it wasn't for his stinkin' brother! I knew he was trouble since he first snuck into my territory... speaking to me like I was an idiot! Telling lies!... Telling me that I... I wasn't good enough for you!" And just like that, his fearsome roars tapered off into the whimpering tone of a spurned teenager. Luigi– backing a little further into the shadows cast by the stone– never felt so confused in his life. Hearing a creature of such fearful, unrestrained power act so hurt over a mere insult was bewildering in and of itself, but Luigi was certain he hadn’t said anything like that. He still couldn't quite remember how that conversation went... the memory was too terrifying to recall between the moment he admitted his brother's name and the moment he was thrown to the floor, but surely he didn’t say that!

Then, beyond the haze of confusion, a new realization dawned on him… Kamek had been awfully silent. Luigi glanced about the throne room, slowly realizing that he had been so focused on Peach and Bowser’s conversation that he didn’t see where Kamek had disappeared to. That was when an innate sense of danger pricked at his heart, and a familiar voice spoke from behind him: “Well well well! Speak of the devil…” On instinct Luigi ducked to the side, dodging a blast of magic that would have rendered him immobile. With equal swiftness, he followed it up with a kick to Kamek’s hand that sent his wand flying across the room. Luigi would’ve congratulated himself for his quick reflexes, had the heavy thud of fast-approaching footsteps not robbed him of all sense of victory.

The struggle was brief. A clawed hand came down, narrowly dodged. Luigi flinched and stumbled as bits of rubble from the damaged statue pelted his face, and that moment of half-blindness was all that Bowser needed. Next thing Luigi knew, a familiar, scaly palm clamped down around his torso and lifted him into the air, squeezing so tight he couldn’t even take a breath.

 “Kamek!” Bowser’s voice called. “Yes, sire?” The wizard asked meekly, fixing his glasses and rubbing his sore hand while crossing the room to recollect his wand. “Keep an eye on my bride to be. I have a score to settle” Luigi felt his body jolted about like a ragdoll with every step Bowser took toward the doors leading out of the room. The plumber struggled, kicking his feet and twisting his body, trying to wrench himself free until Bowser’s grip tightened further, and Luigi’s inability to breathe turned into a sharp pain that made him fear being snapped in half. He went passive then, falling limp in hopes of buying himself some time. Head bowed, he stared hopelessly at Princess Peach as the distance between them grew wider. He mouthed an attempt at an apology. The Princess stretched a hand through the bars, as though if she strained against her cage hard enough she could break through and come to his aid. “Don’t hurt him! Please!” she begged. “We’re both royals, aren’t we? Let’s negotiate! Bowser!”

Her words went unheeded. She only had time to call Bowser’s name once more before her voice was cut off by the heavy doors slamming shut, leaving Bowser alone with his new scapegoat clasped tightly in the palm of his hand.

[scaredcrab]

Coffee shop (drabble)

Character: ☼ Wukong x Reader

✐ Summary: You work in the most relaxing coffee shop of the city. A special client starts visiting the place regularly.

✐ Category: Cute. Romantic.

-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼-✐-☼- ☼ Sun Wukong was going around in the form of a bird when he saw with his golden eyes some beautiful pastries by the window. He couldn't resist entering.

☼ Taking the opportunity to go through the door when someone opened it, Wukong sneaked to the countertop, ready to use his enchanting bird appearance to gain free snacks.

☼ That's when he fell into the trap, he held his gaze in the direction of something that attracted much more attention than the sweets themselves.

☼ Finishing writing down an order on a notepad, you tucked your pen behind your ear and turned to go on your way, until your attention was stolen by the sight of a bird inside your workplace.

☼ "Wow, what a beautiful visitor we have here. Would you like something, buddy?"

☼ You not only gave him a treat, you also let him have a table for two in the corner of the establishment. All the comfort that someone who eats without paying would want.

☼ From there, he decided that he needed to get closer to you.

☼ He started visiting whenever he could, only buying something if you are in your working shift.

☼ Wears a hooded outfit to hide most of his features, and a disposable surgical mask to hide his face when he comes to talk to you.

☼ He usually asks for some peach desserts and a coffee drink to go with it.

☼ Initially, Wukong doesn't like coffee, but he asks for it every time, since you recommended it when he asked your favorite product of the cafeteria. He would get rid of it by giving it for free to Tang later.

☼ But over time you realized that your shy customer had the habit of not drinking all the coffee and always asked for a cup to "drink the rest on the trip".

☼ "What do you think about having a latte instead of the espresso this time?"

☼ You asked what kind of latte art he would like to see in his drink. Uncertain of what to reply, he simply blurted out a "surprise me".

☼ And you fulfilled the agreement! The king almost couldn't drink when he came across the image of a small peach with delicate leaves made from milk foam in the cup.

☼ The next time he came for a latte he asked for a little foam monkey, and the next time he asked for a fireworks image, and so on with different specifications each time.

☼ A small detail that stole the monkey's heart even more was noticing that something started to accompany the latte: You started leaving messages thanking him for visiting on napkins with smiley faces drawn in the corner of the papers.

☼ Of course, he didn't hold you hostage to the latte arts for long. When he saw that with a specific drink you wrote what people asked for on the cup, he had to ask for one of those too.

☼ "Uhhh… Which one of the drinks come in with those plastic lids and a straw, and then you write something on the cup?"

"You mean a frappé?" - You said it with a smile that clearly showed how cute this was for you.

"If this is going to make you write in the cup, than that's exactly what I want."

☼ Once the drink was ready, you did what you normally do, asked the client name to put in the cup. A perfect opportunity to find out something about the peach dessert customer.

☼ Then you heard a cough through the mask, followed by a sly remark.

"Actually, I would prefer to see your number written there."

Needless to say, he got your contact, right?

☼ And everything would have ended as Wukong wished, if not for an unexpected problem. The place that only a few minutes ago had only the two of you had its front door opened, revealing two thieves breaking in.

☼ Facing the sight of your frightened face, he came out of his disguise to defend you. A fight that didn't last long, considering that one of those involved was none other than the Great Sage.

☼ He thought he lost all chances with you, considering that the opportunity to approach him calmly without the pressure of being "The Monkey King" has now been destroyed.

☼ "Thank you so much for saving me, and sorry for the inconvenience. Would a free dessert be a good way to make up for the inconvenience?" - Even after seeing who he was, your attitude towards him hadn't changed, you remained the same charming barista as ever.

Still dazed, the monkey had to shake its head to think again and come up with the perfect answer.

"It wasn't an inconvenience to help you, buuuut a date would be a nice reward if you want my opinion."

☼ Fortunately for both of you, several encounters followed that day. If before there was a crush full of chemistry, now a sugary love has begun to build.

[newkatzkafe2023]

@lara-legomonkiekid

What If, somebody attacked monkey Y/N and she didn't tell Monkey King But he finds out anyway.

This is a part 2 to when Monkey Queen (Y/N) got revenge 😈😈😈ca

Believe it or not you're the most merciful between the tool of you so You know I don't feel sorry for that somebody at all😈🔪😈🔪😈🔪

(Lmk Wukong) You were attacked by one of your husband's enemies. They couldn't defeat him, so they went after you instead. of course, that was a mistake on their part since you beat the c*** out of them before they ran off. Of course, they got a few heads on you, too. So all you did was just bandage up you at injuries. You weren't gonna tell what's wrong about this because while you took care of it already. But when he went to go greet you, he's saw the bandages and he may be oblivious, but he's not stupid.

(Lmk Wukong) (Y/N) do you think you can tell me what happened???😠😠😠

Oh sh*t the fact that he actually called By your name instead of peaches you know how serious it is

Monkey Queen (Y/N) It's nothing dear just got into a scuffle

He raises an eyebrow at you before giving you his dark look

(Lmk Wukong)(Y/N)👿👿👿

You squeaked a bit before telling him everything from where you were to when the attack happened and who attacked. He sat in complete silence as he listened to every word. You said before telling you to rest on the couch and leaving the house. He came back later with the decapitated head of the demon that attacked you. He mountin it next to the one you got. Ah romance🥰🥰🥰

(MK Reborn Wukong) Oh man, this is bad worse than that. You've got it to fight with one of your husband's enemies. And, of course, you fought them off before they ran. But you got seriously injured in the process. Although it's nothing worse than what you could possibly gotten it's still gonna be tricky to hide this from him. You covered yourself in ointments and bandages. Then, put on your robe to hide them. That should deter him from noticing anything different. Too bad it's not that easy, and he's not an idiot. He smelled blood the second He saw you and demanded that you tell him what happened. Of course, you're gonna do yet another argument before. Finally telling him what happened and who attacked you. to He was deadly angry was a severe understatement. You'd never seen him like this well. That's kind of a lie, but this is different. He had blood red eyes, and smoke was coming out of his nose and ears. He then tells you the weight right where you are before storming off. All i'm going to say is he came back covered and blood.

(HIB Wukong) You had protected Liuer from some rowdy demons but not without getting injured. You had begged him not to tell your husband about what happened to you. Answer: Just say that you were we playing too rough and stuff. Liuer felt horrible about lying to the king, but he didn't say anything. When you both met Wukong, he had asked what happened then, and you told them that he would. You guys had a bit of rough housing. What you didn't expect was for Liuer. I'm too burst crying to your husband about what happened and how you got hurt protecting him. You just sat their and stared as the monkey king listened to the small boy's story. Then he slowly turned his head to look at you. As you basically just lied to his face. You both are definitely gonna talk about honesty right after he puts the demons who attack you into an early grave.

(Nezha Reborn wukong) Li, and you got attacked by some street thug who claimed that you were on their turf. Of course, Li didn't want any unnecessary trouble. But you weren't about to let some pathetic demons tell you what to do. So So you guys fought in battle and won, but at the expense of your dislocated shoulder and bruised face But you were happy. Then you told Li not to tell your husband about what happened tonight as you handle you guys's injuries. And he agreed, except your husband was more observant than you thought. He interrogated Li about his injuries, and He lied telling him it was from sparring, but that could be because Wukong spars with him the most, and Li is deathly afraid of the idea of fighting you. Finally, Li spelled the beans about the attack. And how you basically force them not to tell Wukong about what happened on the count of you already taken care of it. Wukong just shook his head before saying bye to Li and gone home. First, he's gonna make you tell him exactly what he heard earlier from Li and finally to go make those thug demons wish they were never born.

(Netflix Wukong) Oh no, oh no, you remember him getting incredibly unhinged in his battles. Once he finds out that some nobody goes and attacks you. Oh, you don't want to think about it. So you quickly patched yourself up and covered yourself in as many clothes as possible. But what you forgot about us is how you twisted your ankle during the fight. And let me tell you, it looks bad. You can hardly walk on it, but you're gonna have to burn your teeth and walk through the pain. Because you can't afford your husband to find out about this, it would be a blood bath. Now, due to his naive nature, it might be easy to hide it for him. But later that day, you slipped off and yelped when he hugged your leg. And that's when he noticed your swollen ankle.

(Netflix Wukong)(Y/N) what Happened

When you finish telling him what happened, his eyes turn bloody red before storming out the house. This is exactly what you were afraid of. Hopefully, you can get the blood out of his shirt like last time😥😥😥

Feel free to reblog

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 19 : Life under the mountain

Mac better Wukong's life under the mountain!

Macaque was building a hut out of leaves and twigs, arranging it near Wukong's stone pillar. Once he was satisfied with it he turned towards Wukong with a proud expression.

“What do you think?” He asked with a swaying tail.

“Cute.” Snorted the sage with softened eyes. Macaque chirped happily at the praise, he made sure his hut was sturdy before placing a blooming plum blossom on top, he liked the sight and the smell of them. Then, he sat on the floor and began to weave grass and flowers to create a comfortable nest. His fingers weaved with familiarity, flowing like the course of a river. He whispered a melody he heard on his way to the mountain as he worked on his nest. He wasn't very good at singing, but he was particularly joyous today, especially since he found Wukong after searching for so long. Once his nest was done, he placed it inside of the hut. There wasn't anything else in the narrow space, but Macaque believed he could furnitured it with time.

The black-furred monkey left his hut and climbed Wukong's stone pillar, he settled on the sage's shoulders and began to groom him, weaving flowers in his fur. He took time to pick the freshest, prettiest flowers each morning to weave them into the sage's fur. He knew Wukong was vain, in his own way, and he noticed how the golden-furred monkey was bitter about his state of appearances as of now. The mountain's dirt irked him greatly.

“You never sang that before.” Noticed Sun Wukong as he closed his eyes and enjoyed the grooming, he liked the scent of flowers, and it was great to feel pretty.

“I heard it on my way here, I think there is a house close to the mountain.” Replied Macaque as he tied a peach blossom to Wukong's ear.

“Really? That's surprising. I was sure there was no one here.” Sun Wukong giggled at the feel of the flower against his ear.

“Mmm, maybe I have to see.” Mumbled the black-furred monkey, once he was done grooming the sage he stayed on his shoulders a bit. He knew Wukong was greatly touch-starved, as such he always took the time to snuggle with him for a bit. He also liked to press himself in the crook of Wukong's neck, his warmth was always comforting. After an hour of snuggling, Macaque left Wukong's shoulders and prepared to leave. “I'll bring you peaches.”

“Thanks. Y-you… I lo… you're the best.” Macaque turned towards Wukong and smiled at the compliment, he waved at him before diving in the shadows and traveling outside of the mountain's bowels.

The forest surrounding the mountain was pretty lush, full of jumping rivers and fruits. Macaque couldn't carry much, his arms were small and his bags even smaller, but he tried to gather as much food as he could. He took water from the springs and put it in leaves and vials. He cut fruits with his claws and stuffed them in his bags. He rejoiced when he caught sight of peaches and tried to take as many as he could. He rolled a full peach in front of him, determined to bring it to the mountain's bowels for Wukong. In his path, he heard singing again. Curiosity nipped at him despite his cautiousness, he hid his peach in bushes and carefully followed the singing. A woodman was cutting trees not far from him, he sang each time his ax cut in the wood's flesh.

At first, Macaque wanted to flee. Giants were unpredictable. But then he wondered if this man could help him, mayhaps he could share blankets and pillows for Wukong. The black-furred monkey was swayed by the thought of comforting his only friend with silk and satin, he stepped out of the shadows and cleared his throat. The woodman startled and looked around, his eyes widened when they fell on him.

“W-what? What are you?” Mumbled the woodmen.

“A monkey ?” Awkwardly chuckled Macaque, he winced at his words, he was terrible at socializing.

“What do you want from me, fairy?” Asked the woodmen, Macaque raised an eyebrow at the nickname but he saw no use in correcting it.

“I… if you could share blankets and pillows with me…”

“Why would I do that?”

“I can… if you have fields I can… ask the winds to chase clouds or… or I can frighten the forest's beasts with shadows I…” Macaque didn't truly know what the man needed or what he wanted, but he hoped it would be enough to sway him. The woodmen regarded him for a moment before searching in his bag and handing a small blanket of linen.

“For now.” Added the woodmen, Macaque nodded gratefully and took the blanket, he then dived in the shadows, leaving the gaping men behind.

Macaque managed to bring back fruits, water and a full peach he dragged thanks to the linen blanket. When he entered the mountain's bowels, his ears flickered in discomfort, sounds he did not like echoed around him. Sounds of gargling and laughing. Macaque hurried and froze at what he saw. Two small men, covered in brown skirts, were forcing iron and metal in Wukong's throat. The black-furred monkey was still in horror for a second before letting out a shriek of anger. Both men stopped and turned towards the lil guy.

“Who are you? And what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here.” Scoffed one of the men, his hand resting on his hip. Macaque wanted to scream at him, to claw and bite, but he restrained himself.

“You are…?” Asked the lil guy.

“The prisoner's wardens. Unfortunately we have to move and feed the guy, a real chore.” Sighed the other men, Macaque now recognized them as earth lords, their potent smell a dead giveaway.

“Feed…” Repeated Macaque as he clenched his fists, his knuckles whitening in anger. But then he had an idea, mayhaps he could turn this to his advantage. “If you want to feed him, I can do it in your place.” He proposed, hoping the earth's lords would agree. They regarded him for a moment, considering his proposition.

“We could stop coming here.” Whispered the first earth lord.

“But what if Heaven learns of this?” Replied the other.

“Heaven doesn't have to know.” Retorted Macaque. The earth lords whispered among themselves for a few minutes before agreeing to Macaque and leaving. The black-furred monkey watched them leave the mountain's bowels with burning hatred, he then ran towards Wukong and climbed on his shoulders.

“A-are you alright? S-show me your tongue.” Stuttered Macaque, still shook by what he saw. Wukong averted his eyes in shame and kept his mouth closed. “Please.” Muttered Macaque as he put a hand on the sage's cheek, Wukong looked at him with watery eyes before shyly opening his mouth and exposing his burnt tongue and throat. Macaque gulped, he rushed to his bags to find medecine he packed for his travels, and carefully applied a soothing balm in the sage's mouth. Once he was done he tightly hugged the sage's cheek.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you about… this.” Mumbled Wukong with a raspy voice.

“... Can you promise to tell me if things like this happen from now on?” Replied Macaque as he buried himself in Wukong's cheek, inhaling his scent.

“I… okay…” Replied the sage, he closed his eyes and turned his head, letting his snout brush against Macaque's head.

“I brought you a peach and water.” Sun Wukong laughed weakly at that.

“Thanks.” Whispered the sage.

Macaque nodded, he then took the peach and carefully fed his friend.

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[maxislvt]

Hey hi, I see your request are open...

Can you make an AU on this???

https://vt.tiktok.com/ZS8VHYtuf/

warnings: pet play (kitten), aggressive behaviors, possessive behavior, collaring

Wanda was overbearing. That wasn't a conclusion you ever thought you'd make in the years you spent dating Wanda, but now you were sure that was the case.

When Wanda first moved you out to this cabin, you were excited. It was small, but it was in the middle of a beautiful forest and even had a nice lake. Everyday Wanda would take you for a walk or let you swim around. Then she'd make you lunch and let you do whatever you wanted inside the house until dinner time. It was fun, but it didn't last very long.

Slowly, Wanda gave you less and less freedom. First you weren't allowed to use the sharp knives or the stove without permission. Then you had to ask her to leave the house. Most days she wouldn't even let you get dressed by yourself. There was so much fuss about you needing her help to do anything and then suddenly she disappeared and gave all her attention to that stupid book. It pissed you off.

The first time was excusable but the tenth time was too much for you. You knew your worth. You didn't need to beg anybody for affection, not even Wanda. She could have all the power and knowledge in the world, but you were not going to lose to some old ass book and its stupid spells. You were just going to leave. Maybe you'd come back or maybe you'd move on, but you weren't going to figure that out trapped in that cabin.

You didn't even give Wanda the benefit of an explanation. While she was busy studying, you packed your bags and got ready to leave. Of course, nothing was ever that easy with Wanda.

"And where is my precious little kitten going out all by themselves?"

You grimaced at the pet name. "I'll be back in a bit." You turned the knob of the front door only for it to lock. A frustrated groan slipped through your nostrils. "I'm just going out for a little while, alright? Don't make this difficult." No matter how hard you tugged at the knob, it didn't budge.

Wanda clicked her tongue. "The only one being difficult here is you, kitty." She snapped her fingers twice signaling you to come towards her. "If you're upset you have to tell mommy or-"

"If I'm upset? Wanda, you've been ignoring me for days! I couldn't even tell you what was wrong if I wanted to!" you felt like you were going to explode. She couldn't just walk out on you for days at a time and expect everything to be peaches and cream. What did she take you for? "I'm just going for a walk, I'll be back soon. Just give me some space."

Wanda shook her head and sighed. "Is that what this is about? You're upset mommy isn't giving you enough attention?" She laughed. Her kitty could be so dramatic at times. "If you take your punishment like a good pet, then I'll spend the whole day with you. Doesn't that sound fair?" She reached out to grab your hand but you pulled away too fast.

You tucked your hand underneath your arm. "No it doesn't sound fair at all! You're not listening to me!" The way Wanda's face began to change wasn't lost on you, but you didn't want to back down. "I'm not some toy you can put to the side when you feel like it! I don't want to be a kitten anymore!"

Wanda clenched her jaw. "You don't mean that." She reached out for your hand again. It was more forceful this time. "Mommy let you spend too much time by yourself and suddenly you think you're all big and tough. I know just how to fix that." The strength she used to drag you around was almost inhuman. All the softness she approached you with before was long gone. "If you want to be mean to me, mommy gets to be mean to you." She tossed you over the shared bed and began tearing your clothes off.

You yelled and desperately tried to push Wanda off you. "Get off me, damn it! I'm not messing around with you!" All the strength used to push her off of you was useless. Wanda had always been much stronger than you. It only took seconds for her to get you completely naked. All your clothes were torn to shreds. You were terrified. You'd never been scared of Wanda before. It didn't feel right.

"And I'm not messing with you either." Wanda reached into her bedside drawer and grabbed your collar. She wasted no time fastening the red leather accessory to your neck and tightening. "You're my kitty and I get to do whatever I want with you and your useless little body!" The leash was tied to the bedpost and Wanda immediately got off of you. "I can ignore you and you're going to be thankful if I decide to bring you lunch."

Wanda left your shared bedroom in a rush, slamming the door behind her.

For a moment, you just stared at the door. Was she serious? Of course she wasn't. Wanda would come back once she cooled off. She had to come back. You were her kitten.

[chubbyreaderchan]

I get the joy of rediscovering you | Bo Sinclair x Reader

Word count: 2500~

TW: hints at an abusive past for the reader and Bo, reader has neglectful parents, but it was the 80s, underaged drinking, and smoking, vaguely mentions their first time (teens), fat shaming, oh and murder, Bo isn't angry fanon Bo... at least not entirely, female rader

Bo’s evening started with a text message from Lester.

‘I got a broken-down car. You want me to bring her?’

‘Yep’

He put on his finest suit and slicked back his dark hair. He looked in the mirror and he was the model church boy. Innocent as all get out. Bo grinned at himself. He knew he was a looker and Lester tipping him off to a young lady got his blood pumping.

There was a stillness in the church, the eyes on the dead preacher always seemed to stare into his soul. He was used to it; this was a typical Wednesday evening. The heavy wooden doors to the church opened and he put on a faux angry face.

Bo froze. He wanted to attack the woman there, but he couldn't scold her, but now he blended in with the wax figures that surrounded him. He held so still.

He knew her.

Bo had to change tactics. He didn’t know if he could kill her.

He steps outside the church to find her walking off quickly, her plump body has hardly changed in the last 16 years.

"Y/N?!” he called out to her.

She turned around and the shock on her face followed by realization stirred something up in Bo.

But, in order to preserve her memory, he needed to kill her.

If she had changed from who she was all those years ago, it might just ruin him.

Her smile still had the power to make his knees jelly. Her smile which was once a bright light in his dark soul was tainted with life and age.

She didn’t deserve that.

She never did.

The first day she met him, she was so sweet to him it made his teeth hurt. It was the first year after his parents died and the first time he lived in a foster home.

Hell, it was the first time he had been to a city, let alone lived in one. He missed his brothers.

Not that he would admit it, pop would’ve called him a wimp if he'd have said something like that.

He stabbed at the sugar syrup-coated peaches on his plastic lunch tray, alone at the end of an empty table.

“Watch where you’re walking, fat bitch," a voice said.

He turned to look, seeing Y/N being berated by some blonde cheerleader type. Bo rolled his eyes at the back of the teen’s head. He wasn’t a fan of bullies. Years of sticking up for his kid brothers built a strange sense of chivalry in him in that way.

That and the pleading look you gave him stirred something in him. In a few words, you were his type on a purely physical level. Your fat rolls and the overall softness of your look was exactly what he liked. Perhaps it stemmed from his mother, avoiding all and anyone who even brought her to mind, or perhaps it was simply what he liked.

Bo and Y/N made eye contact for a moment. He grabbed his one single folder and pencil, providing her a place of refuge in the sea of ignorant teenagers.

As she sat across from him, she smiled despite how he would have handled that bitch.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m Y/n”

Bo picked up his paper carton of chocolate milk and took a swig.

“Bo,” he replied.

He had no idea how much that would impact the course of that year.

Hell, Bo never thought he was one that deserved love. He never dated anyone after her, sure he would leave town and hook up with any dumb bitch he could find.

Even on rare occasions, if the right tourist came along, he would use them before killing them.

“Bo? Bo Sinclair?” she asked him. “I am so sorry for interrupting your service,”

She already knew his parents were dead.

“Don’t worry about it,” He smiled.

Bo realized how genuine and natural his smile was for her. He kicked himself internally.

“Just some old biddy,” he waved it off.

That was disrespectful. It was his mother’s body in there after all.

But she didn’t need to know that yet.

“But still, you cared about her enough to make it to her funeral. She had to have meant something to you, Bo,” she paused. “Then again you might’ve changed since high school,”

Y/N's look of endearment towards him was heartbreaking, but his composure was firm. His eyes scanned her body carefully. She had some bruises on her arms and something feral in him wanted to shout and demand where they came from. It was very clearly a handprint. Overall, he was still attracted to her.

She tugged her sleeves down.

Like she had forgotten something significant, she looked at him with big doe eyes. Her arms wrapped around him suddenly. The wax Bo made his presence known, but only for a moment. He hugged her back like he was created to hold her against him.

She was his first everything.

Sitting in her bedroom, their relationship had blossomed but he didn’t want to corrupt her… He was madly in love with her but he couldn’t. He snuck out of the foster home and in through her window, wine coolers, and cigarettes in hand. He smoked and drank as he rolled the dice on his turn of Monopoly which he had zero interest in.

Although she sipped from a cooler herself, she appeared unsure. The bright red drink stained her tongue, and he craved it.

Fuck it.

He remembered leaning over the board, knocking paper money all over her floor, and grabbing her mouth with his. It was a mess of teeth and tongues, but she didn’t pull away from him. She was drawn into Bo as if she also craved him.

That night was their first... everything.

They were animals together if he remembers correctly.

No one ever compared to the passion they had for each other.

Bo chalked it up to being a teenager and having nostalgia for one of the only happy memories he ever had in his life.

He gently pushed her away from him. He couldn’t fall for her again. Could he? No, he couldn’t do that. Not to her, this life would tarnish her though he had a sinking feeling someone had already tarnished her. Bo could tell by how she held herself, wrapping her arms around her middle.

"Is your car in the shop?" he asked.

Bo walked beside her. Though the town was empty he kept her on the inside of the sidewalk.

“Yeah… now, Bo I know you’ll laugh but not too hard,” she smiled at him.

“Oh yeah?”

He pulled a cigarette box from his pocket, tapping it against the surface of his palm.

"Why's that?” he lit a cigarette, offering one to her but she turned it down.

“It’s ol’ Betsy still,”

“You’re joking, that same old car we used to take to that park and--,” he smiled.

Y/N slapped his arm gently, clearly embarrassed by the memory.

“Shut up, yes, it is the same one,”

The keys rattled in his hands, unlocking his gas station. He opened the door for her and couldn’t help but watch her ass as she crossed his threshold into the demon’s nest. He raged on in his head about killing her.

He prowled around the car, watching her like a cat hunting his prey, then finally he lifted the hood of the old beater. Bo’s face contorted into a frown. She’s lucky she wasn’t killed in the death trap she called Betsy.

“Damn,” he hissed.

“Is it a problem?"

“Baby girl, you need to buy a lottery ticket,” Bo said.

The nickname that slipped from his lips was something he called her a lot. It felt right calling her that name.

“Why?”

“The son of a bitch might explode on you,” he responded. “When was the last time you had an oil change on this thing?”

“Honestly, I don’t drive it that much. I mean I don’t drive much anymore at all. The old man doesn’t like it,” she joked. “But I left a tad hastily,"

Bo bit the inside of his cheek and tried not to curse.

“Come on, lemme write out the bill and get some tools together,”

Bo had to change the subject before he jumped into his own truck on a mobile murder spree. His callused fingers began to write down exactly what needed to be done. It wasn't made-up bullshit either; he had noticed all the problems she would have with a car that was older than dirt.

“Here, sit and read it. I gotta get some shit,”

He placed a metal stool next to the glass display case.

“Okay, Bo,”

She sat and leaned against it. He pretended to grab things, rattled tools, and dropped them into a toolbox. Finally, he grabbed a heavy wrench and began to creep up behind her lifting his arm above her head in hope of giving her a clean blow.

“You know, Bo,”

He stopped.

“Seeing you today brought back so much and made me realize...- Now don’t laugh but,”

“I never got over you, Beauregard Sinclair. I think I might still be in love with you,” she finished.

Bo fell silent once again. It had been years since someone had made him this flustered. He dropped his arm down, his heart beating like the engine of an old motorbike. The tool in his hand clattered to the ground, causing her to turn in surprise.

He was so close to her that their bodies touched.

She leaned up and gently pecked a kiss on his slightly stubbled cheek. Bo tried to fight it but it happened all over again. His large hands grasped her face and he kissed her. A long but much more experienced kiss than their first. His tongue explored her mouth and his body screamed with excitement and arousal when she held onto him for dear life. The fire was still there. However, rather than the small candle he thought he had snuffed out, it was now a raging forest fire burning them both to the ground.

“I know how you feel," he said, pulling away.

“Hey, sorry. Could either of you show me how to get back onto the freeway?" A man stood at the entrance of the gas station now. He moved to act as a barrier between Y/n and the stranger. Bo grabbed his phone from his pocket. No new messages from Lester or Vincent for that matter.

A warning was sent to both of them regarding the matter.

Bo wasn’t about to kill her. No, in fact, no one was planning to kill her, but this new tourist would make a fine addition to Vincent’s collection.

“Sorry, had to warn my brother that my girl is coming to dinner,” His fake smile plastered to his face. “I’m sorry, where are you trying to go?"

The man pulled out a comically large map with red crosses and blue circles littering the page.

“Freeway,” he replied. “Though, I probably won’t leave until morning now. I can’t drive so well at night,”

Bo smiled again.

“I’ll be right back, baby. Come with me for a sec. You’re better at finding stuff than I am." He led her to the other room. He was planning to kill the man right then, but he wasn’t willing to show her this life yet.

The wrench would be too obvious now. She’d put two and two together.

“I’ll be right back, doll. I gotta make sure I know what I’m talking about,” he lied.

Bo hated lying to her. He’ll tell her someday but now is not the time. He climbed down the stairs to his torcher's chamber. He glanced at the images of the women he had tied in that room over the years. Part of him wondered what she’d look like in the chair but then he imagined her in his bed. He shook his head. Dark locks moved slightly from their jelled place and a slight curl began to come forward.

He grabbed a small knife and a map. Bo wrapped the map around the knife hiding it from any eyes. He walked back to find that Y/n was gone. Panic filled his chest but he was instantly relieved to see her chatting with the man. At that moment, his hand was on hers, and he resisted stabbing him in the head.

“You staying the night at my place?” Bo asked.

“I’d love that,” both Y/N and the man said.

Bo and Y/N give the man a strange look and glance at each other. The innocent shrug of the shoulders made Bo want to pull her into another kiss.

She was adorable, not that he’d ever admit that.

The man was in the bed of Bo’s truck. There was no way in hell, Y/N was allowed to be on the back of that truck. His arm was draped over the back of her shoulders. It was as if they hadn’t been apart for years. Hell, he wished he had gotten her when he turned 18 and run away with her years ago.

But she was here now. Willingly.

The truck stopped.

“Is this your childhood home?" she asked.

“The one,” he said with a slight bitterness.

Y/n decided not to push it further. He’d talk when he was ready… or drunk. It was either one or the other for him.

Bo got out of the truck and walked to the other side to help her out of the cabin. The man stepped off the bed and Bo could feel his eyes on his girl. Eyeing her the same way Bo did with his own prey.

He led them into his house, leaving them in the living area of the home. Bo planned to sleep on the couch, and he’d put Y/N in his bed. It was what was right by her.

It was odd caring for someone other than his brothers, but he was always the caregiver. After getting out of the foster care system he was the one to bring them back together and before that, he was the one that fed them, bathed them, taught them right from wrong, and protected them when they did do something wrong in the eyes of his parents. Though if Vincent could do wrong in his mother’s eyes, he wasn’t so sure. His thoughts clouded his mind when he heard Y/N's muffled shout.

The pillows and blankets fell to the ground in a fluffy mass. Bo raced down the steps. The tourist had his girl trapped on the couch. Bo pushed him off, hitting him in the face. The knife made its way from his pocket and rested in his fist; it pierced into the lung of the man.

He gasped.

The man collapsed to the floor and Bo kicked him. The punches and kicks flew, blood splattered and all Y/N could do was watch.

It wasn’t long before the man lay motionless on the wood floor of his living room.

Bo stood tall. A bit of pride boiled in his chest, and he remembered she was still there.

“Baby,” he called.

She was splattered with blood.

“Your hands,” she said.

Bo looked down at the cuts. She took them so gently, leading him past the body and into his own kitchen. She sat him down at the tiny kitchen table and Bo was enthralled as she rinsed a rag to clean his cuts. He could just taste domestic bliss.

She dabs his hands gently.

Bo grabbed her, pulling her onto his lap and wrapping his arms firmly around her.

“You can’t leave,” he commanded.

“I don’t want to,” she admitted.

She brushed a bit of hair off his face and he sighed in contentment.

Y/N leaned down and pressed a bruising kiss to his lips.

[jasminedragoon]

Hanahaki Bowuigi

Tehe I'm back 💋

HEAR ME OUT OKAY! You might think that oh yeah because Luigi is timid he'd be our poor victim, BUT OH CONTRAIRE LITTLE BISCUIT TIS BOWSER WITH THINE FLEUR DE BLOOD!

Due to Bowsers pride and natural aversion towards soft emotions he doesn't even realize that shit until Kammy or Kamek points it out to him. Kammy is trying to give him advice and Kamek only gives him sass™ further pushing him away from acting.

After a while of being partnered with Luigi out of nowhere and on rare occasions they get used to one another and even cheer for each other even if they aren't on the same team. It's a comfortable friendship and Bowser likes this new side he sees of him.

Eventually they become so comfortable Bowser invites Luigi on vacation with his family to a Cheep Cheep Island he owns. Junior loves him as his playmate instantly. Wendy bonds with him over their mutual love if dresses and encourages her to become a fashion designer and make a gun dress, on accident. Morton and Roy both like him because he can cook and helps them out with their lady issues.

Ludwig doesn't like Weeg for a while because he thinks he's a spy or something and thinks he'll try to break up their family. Iggy is almost in the same boat until he realizes that he wouldn't hurt anyone and poses no real threat it helps that he shows an interest in his inventions.

Larry is on the fence at first because he loves Wendy and Ludwig very much and values their opinion but he eventually decides he likes Weeg after joining in on their food fight. Lemmy is in the same boat as Larry, but quicker because Lu helps him calm down one of his brothers after a prank goes awry.

Seeing all this changes something in Bowser. He becomes more... feral. He becomes more protective of what his instincts consider his mate. He does his best to keep it at bay as to not scare Luigi. The longer this goes on the more he considers the surgery to remove his feelings entirely, he needs to take care of his children and he can still take care of them even if he won't feel love for them anymore.

Kamek and Kammy notice amidst their insistent bickering. They decide to be as subtle as a tank engine to persuade him to finally tell Weej and after much resistance he promises he will because the great king Bowser fears nothing!

Overtime Luigi notices how standoffish and strained Bowser seems now, even if he's more protective and hovering nearby more often than not. For a time he chooses not to say anything until he notices the cough.

Bowser had been holding back for a while before the flowers started to bloom in his chest. What was worse was that they were also growing through his shell. Scarlet Carnations filled both his waking thoughts and resting mind. It would take him hours of furious yanking to finally look normal again. Until he misses one

Luigi immediately asks him who is it. Who is it that couldn't love him? Bowser eventually spills while Luigi breaks down in front of him. Luigi doesn't get a word out before Bowser leaves acting rashly, thinking he made him feel so bad that he didn't feel the same he leaves to go through with the surgery.

Luigi tells Mario and Peach, they're married, of course the kids overhear and they know where to go and they go quickly to stop the surgery after Bowsers already been put under.

Bowser wakes up in his bed and he can still feel and Luigi yells at him about his actions and how they would have effected everyone especially the kids. Luigi finally gets to the part where it would affect him. He says he would miss him and heartbroken. He confesses his feelings for him and shows his own flowers to Bowser, they had only just started and thus begins the rest of their lives together. ❤️

Background stuffs

Bowser coerced the doctors into doing the surgery that quickly that's how he could do it so fast.

They have raging... Smut after also the older kids are happy ab this they had bets going

Kammy and Kamek are basically Bowsers parents in this.

Luigi becomes king along side Bowser and the koopas are pretty pleased with the change of treatment going forward. Everything's good ❤️