#ALSO I DONT MIND THE ENTHUSIASM

[uwuowowatchthis]

Realization: despite now being separated from their "origins" as non-mammals, all 3 of your OCs (not sure what exactly to call them as a group...) still completely lack body or facial hair. tbh I kinda fw it, it fits, Ia and Lei are clearly very fem-presenting and cunty so they seem like the type to remove it, and Lápiz has all those sensory issues about his torso so maybe he removes it for the same reason he dislikes shirts... also he doesn't look like he's exactly bursting with testosterone and manly vigor, so maybe he's just not the type to have visible chest hair lol

Also, a question (been sending a lot of people a lot of those lately... I cope via fictional little guys ok): are they still a kinda-sorta-polycule? Can I just assume their relationships to one another remain mostly the same, or are they different now?

I hope you don't mind my overenthusiasm, I just find your art and writing and everything REALLY inspiring. It scratches some itch in my soul I never knew I had. Is all.

SO THE FACIAL HAIR THING..

I just don't like drawing facial hair at all. Dislike dislike. I don't like facial hair. Icky icky. I can do maybe some lines like Trevor from Castlevania but that is the furthest I am going. I HATE manly-ness. I also just don't know how to style body hair yet

You are right about Lápiz though- he would have massive sensory issues with body hair. He probably gets his body laser shaved just to be comfortable...

Lei probably also gets laser shaved. I mean she is rich as fuck so why wouldn't she

And Ia, well, she's a shapeshifting Pheonix, so she can have/not have whatever she wants, including body hair

And yes they still are a poly lol. They're the same dynamic but with cooler back stories now

[futurewife]

so we can have a bonkers w.olverine horny revival whenever but only 10 people at any time want to fuck c.able. ok maybe I have special eyes. jk where is his special moment

[t-boy-angel]

a guy is trying to sext me but it has dissolved into him desperately trying to convince me to do anal. it's fair to want to try it ig but not the right play in response to me saying I've tried anal stuff on my own and got nothing from it, not even a spark of enjoyment compared to literally anything else I've done. and nothing indicating to me that it might be better with another person in control either. he's also started talking about all the other people he's convinced to try anal and how grateful they've been to him for changing their views on it.

[triglycercule]

guys i havent written since may (for killer's birthday) but stupid silly swapinverse has been on my mind for a little bit and i threw together this silly (he has a panic attack and throws up) little short draft 4 swapinverse horror!!

-

“hah��� ah… oh god… no, no, nonono…”

he ran. sprinted through the forest like a frightened deer, his demeanor that of prey, although his previous actions aligned more of a predator. panting and shaking, his mind cycled through countless variations of how to react to what just happened, what he just did.

how should he react? how could he react? it was impossible to tell for him in the panicked state. and as the trees in snowdin slowly began to surround him (but weren't they always doing that?), paranoia couldn't run anymore. he was surrounded, he was blocked off, he couldn't escape. not from horrortale, not from snowdin, not from the dusty graveyard he had just left it, and not from the blood smeared across his mouth.

“no, i- what did, what did i do? paps, snowdin, even-undick, no, it-”

paranoia’s incoherent rambles brought his hands to wander across his face, tugging at the massive hole in his skull spanning majority of the left side of his head. picking at the chipped bone didn't help, it never did, but a nervous habit was unbreakable, and he was more than nervous in this moment. in fact, quite terrified. everything was terrifying. he was terrifying. and as the slightest hint of red blood touched his sleeve, the once red, now magenta eye quickly locked onto it, and he couldn't hold it back anymore.

“fuck- oh god, no, aliza-!”

falling to his knees, a disgustingly gorey mess of red, pink, and black spilled from his mouth. sounds of retching and hurling were all that filled the empty forest, and paranoia couldn't bear to look down and see the mess he’d made. the mess he’s caused. wasted food, he would've said. but that statement normally only applied to others. he never imagined using it on himself. choking on his spit and certainly not his blood, tears fell from his eye, joining the vomit and blood seeping into the snow. strange. paranoia didn't think he had enough magic to even shed tears anymore. just for the bare necessities. he managed to surprise even himself, after all this time.

but could it be could be considered surprise, or rather terror? he fit up to his name, certainly horrified at his own actions. forcing out as much of the grossness he could that he’d just consumed, paranoia couldn't help but look down at what he’d done.

red. a lot of red. too much red. he’d never been queasy before, never. he had to adapt to it, being the one to hunt down humans that ran or sneak up on those when times got desperate. there was no time or need to be queasy at what he even considered his job before. a duty he had to do.

but now, there was too much red. far too much red. and he didn't know why, although he totally knew, but paranoia couldn't stomach it. he just threw his guts out (shouldn't they be aliza’s guts, or no?), and here he was, wanting to throw up until his SOUL shattered. his SOUL cycled through those strange 4 shapes, unsure of which to settle on. he couldn't blame it. paranoia himself was unsure of what was even going on anymore. he wanted to run, but was frozen. he wanted to scream, but didn't know who at.

everything was contradicting. everything was going on, and not enough was given for paranoia to understand how to deal with it. and with a muttered curse, he flopped on his side onto the somehow dry snow, losing consciousness in the haze of fear now intermingled with his SOUL.

-

ik theres probably grammar mistakes i wrote this on my phone,,,, but like idk. had idea for a little moment in paranoia's lore and i sure as hell didn't wanna draw it so i wrote it as an easier media! god this is so much easier compared to drawing idk why i dont do this more often (because youre lazy silly!) anyways swapinverse silly i love swapinverse. i've only thrown up like never so i dont know if this works. also never had a panic attack (i think) and AGAIN i dont know if this is accurate but whatever i dont write to be good i write for expressing my ideas. like everything i do

[lxndonorris]

a special day in maranello - Charles Leclerc

Y/N x Charles Leclerc Theme: Smut Charles shows off his special black Monza suit x word count: 4880+ taglist: @game-set-canet @pitstopreality-f1 if you dont want to be tagged, or you want to be tagged, just let me know! requests are open for x-reader or ships :) EN: Went a little further than expected, but I hope you'll enjoy this"

It is the week of the Monza Grand Prix, one of the most anticipated weekends of the year, not just for the Tifosi but for the entire motorsport world.

The atmosphere is electric, with fans flocking to the region to witness Ferrari in action on home soil. But before the chaos of Monza can begin, there is an important stop to make at Maranello.

The Ferrari headquarter in Maranello is a place Charles and you have come to love. But this visit is different. This time, it isn't just about the preparations or meetings. There is something special planned, something that has been kept under wraps until now.

Charles invited you to join him for a photoshoot, something that is supposed to be "special." That's all he would say about it. No details, no hints, just that mischievous smile of his that both excites and unnerves you. 

You are used to surprises with Charles, but this one has you feeling a mix of nervousness and anticipation.

You arrived at Maranello in the early afternoon, the sun casting a golden glow over the landscape. Ferrari reserved a private room for you, a place where you could prepare for the shoot in peace.

The room is simple yet elegant, with a large window that offers a stunning view at the headquarters. Inside, there are racks of clothing, a few chairs, and a full-length mirror on one side. The gear is neatly arranged, but the most striking piece of equipment is a large, black privacy screen that stands in the corner.

Charles leads you into the room with his hand gently placed on the small of your back.

"This is it," he says with a grin. "Our little secret hideaway for the day."

You can't help but smile at his enthusiasm, but you are also burning with curiosity.

"So, what's this all about? You've been so mysterious lately."

He chuckles softly, his green eyes sparkling with mischief. 

"You'll see soon enough. But first, I need to get ready."

You watch as he walks over to the privacy screen, picking up a neatly folded set of clothing on the way.

You're really not going to tell me anything, are you?" You ask, crossing your arms with a playful pout.

"Nope," he replies with a wink, disappearing behind the screen. "But don't worry, you won't be disappointed."

You take a seat in one of the chairs, your eyes glued to the screen. Even though you can't see him, you can hear everything—the rustle of fabric, the soft hum of his voice as he starts to change—it all adds to the anticipation.

"So," Charles begins, his voice light and teasing, "you're probably wondering what I'm putting on first."

"Obviously," you reply, trying to sound casual even though your heart is racing.

He chuckles again, the sound warm and inviting.

"Well, first comes the Nomex. You know, the fire-resistant underwear. It's essential for safety, but it's also surprisingly comfortable. Here, let me show you."

'He's putting on a racing suit', is the first thing that comes to your mind, making your heart race faster. You love seeing him in his red suit, but this visit means only one thing: a special suit for Monza.

And, of course, he isn't going to show you right away. Instead, he describes the feel of the fabric as he slides on the shirt and pants, his tone almost sensual as he runs his hands along his chest.

"It's soft, like a second skin," he says, his voice dropping to a murmur. "It fits snugly, molding to every curve. You'd be surprised how something so thin can make you feel so safe."

You swallow hard, your imagination running wild.

"I bet it looks good on you."

"You'll have to wait and see," he teases, and you can practically hear the smile in his voice.

Next, there is a pause, followed by the sound of a zipper being pulled.

"Now, the racing suit," he announces, his tone turning playful again. "This is the real deal. It's custom made, fits like a glove, and when you put it on, you know you're ready for anything."

You lean forward in your chair, straining to hear every word.

"And how does it feel?"

Charles lets out a satisfied sigh, clearly enjoying himself.

"It feels powerful. When I zip it up, it's like I'm putting on armor. It's tight, but in a good way. Every movement feels controlled, precise. It's a part of me, and when I'm in the car, there is nothing else like it."

You bite your lip, trying to maintain some sembience of composure.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?"

"Maybe a little," he admits, laughing softly. "But I'm also enjoying teasing you. It's fun seeing you squirm."

"Charles!" You exclaim, unable to hide the smile in your voice.

"All right, all right," he says, his tone turning a bit more serious. "I think it's time for the big reveal. Are you ready?"

Your heart skips a beat. 

"Yes."

"Good," he replies. "I'm going to count down from five, and when I get to one, I'll step out. But I want you to promise me something."

"What's that?" you ask, intrigued.

"Promise me that whatever you see, you'll give me an honest reaction. No holding back."

You nod, even though he can't see you. 

"I promise."

"Okay, here we go," he says, and you can hear the excitement in his voice.

"Five."

"Four."

"Three."

"Two."

"One."

And then he steps out from behind the screen.

Your breath catches in your throat.

He is dressed in a black racing suit, but this isn't just any suit. It is sleek, form-fitting, and accentuates every line of his body. The material shimmers slightly under the light, giving it an almost otherworldly quality. Yellow accents trace the contours of the suit, adding a bold, striking contrast that makes the entire outfit pop.

But it isn't just the suit that takes your breath away. It is the way he carries himself, the confidence in his posture, the way he stands there with a slight smirk on his lips, knowing exactly the effect he has on you.

"So," he says, his voice low and velvety, "what do you think?"

Charles strikes a pose, his body angled in a way that showcases every contour of the racing suit. The black and yellow fabric clings to him perfectly, accentuating the sleek lines of his physique. His confidence is palpable, and the way he presents himself is nothing short of magnetic.

He holds the pose for a moment, his stance strong and assertive, his chest puffs out slightly as he tilts his head to the side. The suit gleams under the studio lights, the yellow accents highlighting the definition of his muscles and the tailored fit around his waist.

Then, with a fluid, almost theatrical movement, Charles begins to spin slowly. His movements are graceful and deliberate, allowing every angle of the suit to be seen. 

As he turns, the black fabric shifts and ripples, the yellow highlights catching the light and creating a stunning contrast. He spins with a kind of effortless elegance, each turn revealing a new aspect of the suit. and his physique.

The way he moves is mesmerizing.

His broad shoulders, narrow waist, and powerful legs are on full display, each turn emphasizing the perfect fit of the racing suit. His smile is confident, and his eyes sparkle with a mix of pride and playful satisfaction.

It's clear he enjoys the attention, relishing the chance to show off how well the suit complemented his body.

As he completes another spin and faces you once more, he strikes another pose, his body perfectly angled to highlight the sleek lines of the suit.

His gaze meets yours, a hint of challenge in his eyes, as if daring you not to be completely captivated.

For a moment, you can't speak. 

You can only stare at him, taking in every detail.

Finally, you find your voice. 

"You look.... phenomenal."

His smirk widens into a full-blown smile."

"You really think so?"

"Yes. I really do." You say, taking another look at him, all of him.

He looks absolutely stunning, almost unreal in his black and yellow racing suit. But it isn't just the suit that makes him so captivating.

His tousled hair, with that perfect, 'just out of bed' look, the slight stubble along his jawline, his soft, inviting lips, and those pretty green eyes—they all come together to create a sight that is simply irresistible.

As he walks toward you, his movements are slow and deliberate, almost like a predator closing in on his prey. 

His hands roam along his suit as if he can't resist touching the fabric himself. He runs them down his arms, across his chest, over his sides, and then down his abdomen, his fingers tracing the lines of his body.

You watch, completely entranced, as he licks his lips absentmindedly, his gaze locked onto yours.

There is an electric tension in the air, a palpable pull that you can't ignore. 

Your body moves on its own, your hand reaching out, fingertips grazing the fabric of the suit. The material feels incredible under your touch—smooth, almost like silk, but with a strength that is unmistakable. 

Your fingers roam over his chest, feeling the warmth of his body through the fabric, and you can't help but marvel at how good it feels.

Charles smiles, clearly pleased with your reaction.

"You like it?" he asks, his voice low and intimate, making it sound more like a statement than a question.

You nod, still running your fingers over his chest, unable to tear your eyes away from him.

"I do. It feels amazing."

He grins, a flash of pride lighting up his eyes.

"It's like carbon fiber. Ferrari put a lot of thought into it."

"You can tell," you reply, your fingers still exploring the suit, tracing the yellow accents that highlight his lean physique. "It looks good on you."

Charles's smile widens, and he leans in a little closer.

"I'm glad you think so. But you know, I could get used to hearing that a bit more."

You meet his gaze, and the playful challenge in his eyes sends a thrill through you.

"Oh, really?"

"Really," he murmurs, his voice husky. "I think I deserve a few more compliments, don't you?"

You can't help but smile at his playful arrogance, but you are more than happy to indulge him.

"You look incredible, Charles. The suit fits you perfectly, and the way it shows off your body... it's almost unfair."

He hums softly in response, clearly enjoining every word. 

"Go on," he encouraged, his tone teasing.

"You've got that effortlessly sexy look going on," you continue, your voice soft but sincere. 

"Your hair, that stubble, those eyes... you're practically irresistible. And the way you wear this suit, like it's just an extension of you—it's like you are made for this."

Charles lets out a soft chuckle, his gaze locked onto yours, his eyes darkening slightly with desire.

"I love it when you talk like that," he admits, his voice low and rough around the edges.

You smile, feeling a surge of warmth in your chest.

"I love making you feel good."

"You do," he replies, his tone filled with a mix of affection and hunger. 

He reaches up, cupping your cheek in his hand, his thumb brushing over your skin with a tenderness that sends shivers down your spine.

"You always do."

For a moment, you just stand there, wrapped up in each other, the world outside of the room fading away. 

Charles leans in, closing the distance between you, his lips bruhsing against yours in a kiss that is both soft and intense.

The sensation of his lips, warm and inviting, sends a spark of electricity through your body, and you melt into him, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders.

As the kiss deepens, his hands move to your waist, pulling you closer, the fabric of his suit is cool and smooth against your skin. There is something about the way he holds you, the way he kisses you, that makes you feel like you are the only thing that matters to him in that moment.

Then you notice the distinct, alluring scent of his cologne surrounding him. It is a rich, sphisticated fragrance, subtly blending with the fresh scent of the racing suit. The aroma is warm and comforting, with hints of cedarwood and a touch of citrus that lingers in the air, creating an intoxicating combination that is uniquely Charles.

The scent envelopes you as you get closer, creating a sensory experience that is both soothing and exhilarating. It's like being wrapped in a cloud of his presence, and you feel the warmth of his body through the fabric, the scent adding another layer of intimacy to the moment.

Charles seems to notice your reaction. 

His eyes soften with a mix of amusement and affection as he looks down at you. 

"You like my cologne?" he asks, his voice low and slightly teasing.

You smile up at him, letting your fingers run down his chest again, savoring the feeling of the fabric and the scent that seems to blend perfectly with him.

"I do," you admit, your voice soft. "It's like an extra layer of you."

He chuckles softly, clearly pleased with your response.

Charles leans in closer, his eyes smoldering with a mix of affection and desire.

"Fuck, I'm getting so hard," he whispers, his voice carrying a hint of that familiar confidence.

You meet his gaze, a slow smile spreading across your lips. 

"I can see that," you reply, your voice soft but laced with playfulness.

Your eyes begin their slow journey over him, taking in every detail once more.

The way the black racing suit hugs his body accentuates every muscle, every curve, in a way that is striking yet sensual. The suit seems almost to pulse with his energy.

His muscles are taut and defined, the fabric of his suit now straining slightly under the pressure, emphasizing the hard lines of his physique.

Charles grins, a pleased smile stretching across his lips.

"This feels so good."

You reach out slowly, your fingers grazing the surface of his suit, tracing a path along his chest, feeling the subtle shift of his muscles as you move your hand down his sides and across his abdomen. 

Your touch is light but deliberate, savoring the warmth and firmness of his body.

Charles sighs contentedly, his eyes closing briefly as he enjoys the sensation of your fingers through his suit. His breath hitches slightly when your fingers trace the letters of his name along his waistline, the fabric stretching slightly as you move.

The intimacy of the moment, the way his body responded to your touch, makes your heart race.

Encouraged by his reaction, your fingers wander lower, exploring the contours of his body with newfound confidence.

You feel the tension in his muscles, the way the suit accentuates every movement. Each touch is met with a soft sigh or a subtle shift, and it is clear that he is thoroughly enjoying the attention.

Charles's hands find their way to your waist, pulling you closer as you continue your exploration. The sensation of his body under your fingers, the way the suit clings and shifts, creates an intoxicating mix of excitement and intimacy.

"You're really enjoying this, aren't you?" You murmur, your fingers tracing along his hips, feeling the hardness of his muscles beneath the fabric.

His eyes flutter open, his gaze locked onto yours with desire.

"Absolutely," he says softly. "It feels amazing. But it's even better because you're the one doing this."

You smile, leaning in slightly, your fingers continuing their journey. 

"I'm glad I can make you feel this way."

He lets out a low, contented hum, almost a purr, his grip on your waist tightening as he revels in the closeness.

Your fingers trace a little lower, savoring the way his body responds to your touch. The suit seems almost to come alive under your fingers, amplifying every sensation, every movement.

His reaction, the way his breath hitches and his body tenses, makes you feel like you are exploring a private, cherished part of him.

"Does this feel good?" You ask softly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

"More than you can imagine," Charles replies, his voice thick with emotion. "You have no idea how... good I feel right now."

Each sigh, each shift of his body, makes the moment feel even more special.

As you gently stroke his abdomen, Charles's eyes close again, his breathing deepening as he savors the sensation. He leans into your touch, his expression one of pure contentment. It is clear that this moment, this connection, is something he cherishes as much as you do.

The air between you crackles with anticipation as your hand slowly finds the zipper of his suit. His eyes dart open and follow your movements intently, every breath between you heavy with expectation.

You hesitate for just a moment, letting the tension build before you begin to slowly pull the zipper down.

As the zipper descends, the black fabric parts to reveal the Nomex underneath, hugging his body like a second skin.

The slightly damp fabric is smooth, taut, and incredibly form-fitting, showing off every muscle, every contour of his athletic physique. The red fabric contrasted sharply with his skin, making the sight even more captivating.

Charles sighs softly, the sound full of both relief and pleasure, his chest rising and falling as he exhales deeply. You can't help but marvel at the sight before you—the tight Nomex accentuating his lean muscles, the way it clings to him, leaving little to the imagination.

Your heart races as you take it all in, your fingers itching to touch him, to feel the heat of his body beneath the fabric.

However, before you can make another move, Charles slips out of the upper half of his racing suit, letting the top half fall to his waist, revealing his torso.

Through the thin Nomex, you can see every line of his chest, the muscles of his abdomen flexing slightly as he moves. The material is so thin, so close to his skin, that it is almost as if nothing is there at all. It is an invitation you can't resist.

You reach out, your fingers trembling slightly with the intensity of the moment, and place your hand on his chest.

The Nomex feels cool to the touch, but underneath, his skin is warm and firm. You feel his muscles shift under your fingertips, flexing subtly as he responds to your touch. 

All of him is intoxicating—the power, the strength, all right there under your hand.

Charles lets out a low, pleased hum, clearly enjoying the way you are exploring him.

His hand slides to your waist again, pulling you closer until your bodies are almost touching. His other hand reaches up to cup your face, his thumb brushing lightly across your cheek, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours.

His lips hover just above yours, his breath warm and sweet against your mouth. He is so close that you feel the steady rhythm of his breathing, sense the way his chest expands and contracts with each inhale.

"How do I look?`" he asks, his voice a deep, husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine.

You are breathless, completely caught up in the moment, on him.

Your eyes roam over his face, his hair still tousled, his stubble giving him a rugged, irresistible edge, his green eyes dark with desire.

And his body, clad in the tight Nomex, is a sight that leaves you utterly speechless.

"Amazing," you finally manage to whisper, your voice barely audible as you lean into him, your heart racing.

That is all he needed to hear.

Charles closes the small gap between you, his lips capturing yours in an intense kiss. The moment your lips meet, it's like everything else fades away—the room, the world outside—all of it ceases to exist. There is only him, only this.

His kiss is full of passion, but there is also something gentle, something reverent about the way he holds you, as if you are the most precious thing in the world to him. 

His hands on your waist tighten, pulling you flush against him, and you feel the heat of his body through his shirt; the hard lines of his muscles press against you.

You melt into him, your hands sliding up to his shoulders, then down his chest, feeling the way his body reacts to your touch. His muscles tense firmly under your fingers, the sensation sending a rush of heat through you.

The kiss deepens, and you respond eagerly, your hands exploring every inch of him, reveling in the feel of his strong, powerful body under the thin fabric.

"Mhmm," he moans into your mouth as his hands move to the back of your neck, his fingers tangling in your hair as he tilts your head slightly, deepening the kiss even further.

You feel his breath quickening, matching the rapid beat of your own heart.

When you finally break apart, you are both breathless, your foreheads resting against each other's, your breaths mingling in the small space between you.

His eyes are closed, his lips slightly parted, a small, satisfied smile playing on his face.

"You have no idea how much I want you," he whispers, his voice rough and his accent coming through more.

You smile, your heart swelling with desire. 

"I think I do," you whisper back, your fingers still tracing the lines of his chest.

He opens his eyes then, looking at you with such intensity that it makes your knees weak.

That's when you feel the unmistakable evidence of his arousal pressing against your waist. A shiver runs through you at the sensation, and you can't resist the urge to tease him, a playful smile curving your lips.

"Well, someone's enjoying themselves," you murmur, your voice light and teasing as you raise an eyebrow at him.

Charles chuckles softly, the sound deep and rich.

"Can you blame me?" He replies, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Look at what I've got in front of me."

His playful response only makes you bolder; your hands begin their slow descent down his body, fingers tracing over the taut muscles of his chest and abdomen, feeling the way his breath hitches slightly as you move lower. 

The closer you get to his waist, the more you can feel the tension building in him, the anticipation.

As your hands continue to roam, Charles lets out a soft, involuntary moan, the sound vibrating deep in his throat. 

You let your fingers dip lower, stroking him through the racing suit, feeling the heat of his arousal against your hand.

Charles bites down on his lower lip, his eyes darkening with desire as he gazes down at you. The way he looks at you, the way he responds to your touch only fuel the fire inside you.

"Careful," he murmurs, his voice strained, though still laced with that playful edge. "You're going to drive me insane."

You smile up at him, continuing to tease, enjoying every moment of his reaction.

"Isn't that the point?"

Charles let out a low, appreciative laugh, his hands gripping your waist a little tighter as he leaned in closer, his lips hovering just above yours.

His breathing quickened as he let out another low sigh.

"I'm really close," he admits, his voice strained with desire and frustration. The evidence of his arousal presses firmly against you, growing more intense as your fingers continue to stroke him through the suit.

The fabric stretches, forming a visible tent, yet the black fabric is slightly hiding it. Still, you feel the warmth of his arousal growing, and you notice the fabric growing damp with his pre-cum. His breath hitches, and his eyes plead with you, showing just how close he is to the edge.

You look up at him; your expression a mixture of playful defiance and genuine affection.

"You can't ruin the suit yet," you tease softly, though the warmth in your tone reveals just how much you are enjoying this.

Charles's eyes widen slightly with frustration, his hands gripping your waist tighter as he tries to steady himself.

"I'm just so close," he says, his voice a desperate whisper, his body trembling as he fights to hold on.

You keep your touch light and teasing, drawing out the moment as much as you can.

"Patience," you murmur, your voice a gentle caress against his ear.

"The suit's not going anywhere. And neither are we."

Charles's grip on you tightens even more, his breath coming in shallow, ragged bursts.

"You're really driving me crazy," he whimpers, a soft groan escaping his lips as he struggles to keep his composure.

You smile at him, your fingers continuing their slow, teasing caress.

"That's the idea, I told you," you whisper, your voice full of playful affection. "But I promise, we'll have our time. Just a little longer."

The tension is almost unbearable, the heat of the moment making it clear how much you both want to give in to your desires. His eyes are dark with need, his body presses firmly against yours as he fights to maintain control.

"I'll be patient," he says finally, though his voice is thick with desire. "But only if you promise me that we'll finish this soon."

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips."You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips.

"I promise."

With a final, lingering kiss, Charles reluctantly steps back, his arousal still evident but his composure regained.

As Charles adjusts his suit in preparation for the photoshoot, his movements are deliberate and confident; his hands glide over the fabric, smoothing it out and ensuring everything is in place.

Yet, there is a clear focus on specific areas—his chest, his abdomen, his thighs, and the prominet bulge that is still slightly damp.

With a mixture of frustration and need, his hands linger on his chest, his fingers tracing the defined muscles beneath the Nomex. He then moved to his abdomen, his touch firm and almost possessive, as if trying to regain control over his body's reaction.

His gaze drops to the growing bulge at his waistline, and he sighs, his breath catching slightly as he feels the evidence of his arousal.

"Barely held on there," he murmurs, his voice thick with both relief and frustration as he glances at you, his expression a blend of desire and amusement.

You can't help but tease him, a playful smile spreading across your lips. 

"I can tell," you reply. "Looks like you're having a hard time keeping it together."

Charles's eyes sparkle with a mix of annoyance and amusement as he meets your gaze.

"You're really pushing your luck," he says, though there is an undeniable edge of affection in his tone.

"You make it so easy," you tease, reaching out to gently brush your fingers against the damp spot on his suit, feeling the warmth of his arousal through the fabric. The contact makes him shiver, his breath hitching again.

He gives a soft, almost helpless laugh, shaking his head.

"You're impossible," he says, though there is no real reproach in his voice. "But you're right. It's all your fault."

You lean in closer, your voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

"I'll take that as a compliment."

Charles's lips twitch into a reluctant smile, his eyes dark with desire once more.

With one last, lingering look, he adjusts his suit one final time, making sure everything is perfectly in place before you have to leave for the photoshoot. 

His movements are more controlled now, though the lingering evidence of his earlier arousal is still apparent.

With a final glance in your direction, he reaches for his black ferrari cap on the nearby table. He flips it in his hand for a moment, as if considering something before sliding it onto his head, the bill casting a shadow over his eyes, giving him an air of confident mystery.

He turns to the mirror, his eyes roaming over his reflection. Slowly, he licks his lips, his gaze focused on the way the cap and the racing suit completed the look. 

You watch him for a moment, the way he studies himself, clearly satisfied with how everything came together. Unable to resist, you smile and ask. 

"Are you satisfied with what you see?"

Charles chuckles, his eyes meeting yours in the mirror.

"I think I am," he replies, his tone playful but with a hint if genuine appreciation for the way he looks.

He takes another moment to admire himself, running his fingers through his stubble and along his jawline, before letting his gaze linger on the way the suit fit his form, especially around the waist, before turning to dace you fully.

"You know," he adds, his voice dropping to a more intimate tone, " I think I might even like it more with you standing next to me."

You blush slightly at his words, a soft laugh, escaping you as you shake your head.

"Always the charmer;" you tease, though you can't deny the thrill that runs through you at his compliment.

"Only for you," he murmurs, his eyes softening as he reaches out to brush a strand of hair from your face, the gesture tender and full of affection.

With a final look in the mirror, Charles takes a deep breath, the playful edge returning to his expression as he turns to you.

"Alright," he says, a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth. "Let's go show them what this suit can do."

[alyrasturnz]

Hiii

I sent in 5 requests in like a week so sorry about that but i have another one if you dont mind

I just really wanna see matt with a super feminine reader! And can you add short little descriptions under the scenarios? Like a convo and such

Thank you<3

HIS PRINCESS

❐ summary » y/n's delicate softness and effortless grace have an almost magical ability to draw out a tender, vulnerable side in matt, a side he keeps hidden from the rest of the world. he finds her femininity not just enchanting, but profoundly captivating, often going to great lengths to ensure she feels cherished and adored, as if her presence alone brings light into his life.

❐ pairings » bf!matt x fem!reader

❐ warnings » headcanons with little descriptions in them, nsfw at the bottom

❐ a/n && w/c » this is so cute! • 3.61k

⟡ SFW

┆ bf!matt who, upon catching the first whiff of your vanilla perfume, feels an immediate sense of warmth and familiarity, as if enveloped in a comforting embrace.

» "hi, matt!" you exclaim, a radiant smile lighting up your face as you step through the door. with a graceful yet casual motion, you let your pink purse slip from your arms, allowing it to land gently on the couch, its vibrant color a stark contrast against the muted tones of the room.

"hey, angel," he murmured, a soft smile tugging at his lips. as you wrap your arms around his neck, his hands glide down to encircle your waist, drawing you into a warm, enveloping embrace. 

he immediately catches a whiff of your vanilla perfume, the sweet, intoxicating scent weaving its way into his senses. it creates a heady haze, blurring the lines between reality and the dreamlike quality of the moment, leaving him momentarily lost in your presence.

he finds himself instinctively burying his face into your neck, his lips trailing a series of soft kisses along your skin. your giggles, light and melodic, ripple through the air, adding a layer of enchantment to the intimate moment, as if the world outside has faded away entirely.

"matt! that tickles," you manage to say between giggles, your voice light and breathless. as he continues to plant more kisses onto your neck, you squirm slightly, a playful plea escaping your lips, "stopppp."

"i can't! you just smell so good," he murmurs into your neck, his warm breath fanning across your soft skin. the sensation sends shivers down your spine, and you can't help but giggle, the sound mingling with the intimate atmosphere.

┆ bf!matt who finds himself enchanted by your unwavering dedication to a wardrobe of pink and bows, seeing in you a vision of timeless elegance and charm.

» matt's soft chuckle dances through the room, filling it with warmth and light as he leans against the doorway, arms crossed casually. his eyes follow your every move, soaking in the sight of you twirling in front of the mirror. "weren't you just wearing that dress last night, petal?" he asks, a playful glint in his eye, his smile widening as he waits for your response.

you giggle, the sound light and musical, and shake your head with a playful sway. "no, matt, this one is completely different!" you exclaim, a twinkle of excitement in your eyes. "the dress i wore last night was a soft blush pink, made of silk with delicate bows adorning the sleeves. this one, however, is a rich rose pink chiffon, with these cute little bows dancing along the hemline."

matt raises an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued but a hint of confusion still lingering in his expression. "uh-huh," he murmurs, drawing out the sound as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "and what else?"

"well," you continue, your eyes sparkling with a fervent enthusiasm that radiates from within, illuminating your entire expression with a vibrant energy, "the dress from last night had a subtle sheen to it, while this one has a matte finish. the shade of pink is also different—this one is a bit deeper and richer. plus, the floral pattern on this dress is more intricate, with tiny embroidered flowers, whereas the other one was plain."

matt nods, his expression a blend of intrigue and contemplation as he tries to keep up with your detailed explanation. "and the designer?" he inquires, his voice tinged with curiosity, as if seeking to uncover yet another layer of the story behind your dress.

"oh, this one is from that boutique designer i love, the one who always adds those tiny, intricate details. the other dress was from a different brand, more mainstream. see the difference in the craftsmanship?" you explain, your passion evident in every word, as your hands gesture animatedly, tracing the imaginary lines of the delicate embroidery, your eyes gleaming with a deep appreciation for the artistry involved.

matt stands there, dumbfounded, his eyes widening as he tries to process all the information. he runs a hand through his hair, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "i see," he says, smiling warmly as he finally meets your gaze. "i love how much you know about these things. you always amaze me." his voice carries a tone of genuine admiration, and he takes a small step closer, as if drawn by your infectious enthusiasm.

you smile back, feeling a warm glow of affection spreading through you. your eyes soften as you look at him, your heart swelling with appreciation. "thanks, matt. it means a lot that you listen," you say, your voice carrying the weight of your gratitude, as you gently place a hand on his arm, the connection between you two deepening in that moment.

"i may not understand all the details, but i love hearing you talk about what you love," he replies, his eyes twinkling with genuine interest as he pulls you into a gentle hug. "you make everything sound so fascinating." his arms wrap around you warmly, his embrace conveying a depth of support and affection that words alone cannot capture.

you rest your head on his chest, feeling content as you listen to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "you're the best, matt," you murmur softly, your voice filled with warmth and gratitude, as a serene smile spreads across your face, savoring the comfort and safety of the moment.

he kisses the top of your head tenderly, his lips lingering for a moment. "only because i have the best by my side," he whispers, his voice imbued with a profound sincerity that makes your heart flutter.

he knew that he didn't understand the intricacies of what you were saying, but that didn't deter him. he tried earnestly, captivated not by the content but by the melody of your sweet voice and the way your eyes sparkled with boundless enthusiasm. his heart swelled with admiration as he watched you, utterly enchanted by your passion.

┆ bf!matt who, with genuine admiration, joins you in your pilates practice, eager to witness the grace and poise with which you move, embodying the essence of a pilates princess.

» the sunlight filtered through matt’s eyelids, gently coaxing him from his slumber. he blinked, the morning light casting a warm glow across the room. turning his head, he noticed the curtains had been drawn, allowing the golden rays to spill in unabated.

as his eyes adjusted, he instinctively reached out to the side, expecting to find you there. instead, his hand met cool, empty sheets. furrowing his eyebrows, a sense of confusion washed over him. the absence of your familiar presence left a void, and he couldn't help but wonder where you had gone.

he sat up, letting out a soft huff as he swung his legs over the edge of the bed. with a reluctant stretch, he rose to his feet, each step carrying the weight of his lingering sleepiness. he trudged out of his room, the wooden floor cool beneath his bare feet, and made his way into the kitchen.

you were in the kitchen, meticulously filling your pink stanley tumbler, the vibrant hue matching your pink lululemon workout set. the morning light danced off the surfaces, casting a soft glow on your focused expression as you prepared for the day ahead.

"angel?" he grumbles, his voice thick with sleep as he wraps his arms around your waist. he buries his face into the curve of your neck, inhaling the comforting vanilla scent that lingers on your skin. "come back to bed with me," he murmurs, his words a gentle plea.

“i can't. i have pilates today, remember?” you say with a soft chuckle, your voice tinged with gentle amusement. as you speak, you deftly squeeze a lemon into your pink stanley, the citrusy aroma mingling with the air, adding a refreshing zest to the morning.

he sighs dramatically, a teasing smile playing on his lips. “oh right. you're a pilates princess,” he says, his voice laced with playful sarcasm as he gives you a gentle, affectionate squeeze. “how could i possibly forget?”

you laugh, shaking your head with a mix of amusement and determination. “someone's got to keep in shape around here,” you reply, your eyes sparkling with a hint of playful challenge.

he grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “well, perhaps this prince can accompany his princess to pilates today. what do you say?” he asks, his tone laced with playful curiosity.

you raise an eyebrow, surprise flickering across your features. “you want to come to pilates with me?” you ask, your voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

“why not?” he replies, leaning in to plant a soft kiss on your cheek. “besides, someone’s got to keep an eye on you and ensure you don’t outshine everyone else,” he adds with a playful glint in his eyes.

you giggle, feeling a warm blush spread across your cheeks. “alright, but don't say i didn't warn you. it's not as easy as it looks,” you say, a playful challenge dancing in your eyes.

“i'm up for the challenge,” he says confidently, grabbing his water bottle with a determined glint in his eyes. “let's do this, princess.”

⟡ NSFW

┆ bf!matt who, adores seeing you in your pink lacy lingerie, his eyes darkening with desire as he takes in every delicate detail, knowing exactly how to make you feel both cherished and desired.

» matt was captivated by the sight of you in your pink lacy lingerie, his eyes darkening with an intense, almost primal desire as he absorbed every intricate detail. with each step he took closer, the air seemed to thicken with anticipation. his fingers, feather-light and deliberate, traced the delicate patterns of the lace, sending electrifying shivers cascading down your spine.

"you look absolutely stunning," he murmured, his voice a deep, husky whisper filled with raw emotion, each word dripping with unspoken longing and admiration.

his hands find your waist, pulling you closer, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body. he knows exactly how to make you feel both cherished and desired, his touch gentle yet passionate, leaving you breathless and yearning for more. as he leans in, his lips brush against your ear, whispering sweet nothings that make your heart race and your knees weak.

matt's eyes never leave yours, filled with a mix of adoration and longing. his hands slide down your back, fingers tracing every curve with a possessive touch. "you have no idea how much i love seeing you like this," he says, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through your entire body.

he guides you gently to the bed, his movements slow and deliberate, ensuring you feel every ounce of his affection. as he lays you down, his lips find yours in a kiss that is both tender and fervent, conveying all the emotions he can't put into words. his touch is a perfect balance of softness and intensity, making you feel both cherished and desired in a way that only he can.

┆ bf!matt who, can't keep his hands off you, tracing the curves of your body through your soft, feminine outfits, his touch sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire within.

» matt can't seem to keep his hands off you, his fingers dancing along the curves of your body through the soft, delicate fabric of your feminine outfits. his touch is like a gentle caress, each stroke sending a cascade of shivers down your spine and igniting a smoldering fire deep within you. 

the way his hands move, so deliberate and tender, feels like he's tracing a map only he can read, each touch leaving a trail of desire that lingers long after.

"you drive me crazy,” he murmurs, his voice a deep, husky whisper that reverberates through you. his fingers explore every inch of your body with a tantalizing slowness, as if he's savoring each moment, each touch igniting an electric pulse that courses through your veins.

"matt," you whisper, your voice trembling with the heat of his touch, "you know exactly what you're doing to me." your words are laced with a mix of yearning and surrender, each syllable a testament to the power he holds over you, his every movement orchestrating a symphony of desire that leaves you breathless.

he grins, his eyes darkening with an insatiable desire. "i can't help it. you're absolutely irresistible," he murmurs, his voice a sultry whisper. his hands slide down your body with an agonizing slowness, each movement deliberate, making you gasp. "i love the way you react to my touch," he says, his voice thick with passion, each word dripping with intensity.

"and i love the way you make me feel," you reply, your breath catching in your throat as his hands continue their tantalizing journey. each touch sends ripples of sensation through you, your voice trembling with the intensity of the emotions he evokes.

┆ bf!matt who, leans in close to whisper all the naughty things he wants to do to you, his breath hot against your ear, making your heart race and your body ache with anticipation.

» as you sit at the dinner table surrounded by friends, the evening's chatter and laughter form a comforting backdrop. matt leans in close, his breath warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. 

"you know," he whispers, his voice a low, husky murmur that seems to resonate deep within you, "i can't stop thinking about how stunning you look in that dress. it hugs your curves in all the right places. i wonder if it would look just as good on my bedroom floor."

your pulse quickens, and a flush spreads across your skin, a telltale sign of the tumultuous emotions stirring within you. "matt," you murmur, your voice trembling despite your efforts to maintain composure, "we're at dinner with our friends."

the words barely escape your lips, laden with a mixture of caution and yearning. his proximity, the warmth of his breath, and the intensity of his gaze create a charged atmosphere, making it difficult to focus on anything other than the magnetic pull between you.

you struggle to anchor yourself in the present, aware of the eyes and ears surrounding you, yet the allure of his whispered promises tugs at the edges of your resolve.

he smirks, his fingers lightly tracing a tantalizing path along your thigh under the table, each touch sending ripples of electricity through your body. "i know," he murmurs, his voice a velvet whisper laced with desire, "but i can't help it. the way you did your hair tonight, it's like you're teasing me."

his eyes darken, filled with a raw, unspoken hunger. "i just wanna pull it while i ruin you from behind," he continues, the words dripping with a promise of unrestrained passion. the intensity of his gaze and the deliberate, teasing movements of his fingers blur the lines between restraint and abandon, making it nearly impossible to focus on anything else.

a shiver runs down your spine, your body instinctively reacting to the magnetic pull of his words. "matt," you whisper, your voice barely steady, "you're making it really hard to focus on anything else."

his eyes darken with desire, and he leans in even closer, his breath warm against your ear. "and those shoes," he continues, his voice a low, seductive murmur, "they make your legs look incredible."

the words hang in the air, each syllable charged with intention. "i can't wait to have them wrapped around me later," he adds, the promise in his voice sending a thrill through your veins.

your breath catches, and you bite your lip to stifle a gasp, the sensation sending a shiver down your spine. "matt, you're impossible," you whisper, your voice trembling with a mixture of frustration and desire.

the heat between you intensifies, a palpable force that seems to draw you closer with every passing second. your heart races, each beat echoing the unspoken tension that fills the space between you.

he grins, clearly reveling in the effect he's having on you. "and you, my angel, are irresistible," he replies, his voice a symphony of raw passion. "i can't wait to show you just how much you drive me wild once we're alone."

his words, dripping with fervor, wrap around you like a velvet embrace, leaving no room for doubt about his intentions. the intensity in his eyes mirrors the fire in his voice, creating a magnetic pull that leaves you breathless.

┆ bf!matt who, tells you that you taste like vanilla, his words sending a rush of warmth through you, making you feel both sweet and irresistible.

» matt's lips graze your skin with a feather-light touch, his breath a warm, tantalizing caress that sends shivers down your spine. "you taste like vanilla," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive whisper that seems to wrap around you like a velvet ribbon. the words seep into your very being, sending a rush of warmth through you, making you feel both sweet and utterly irresistible, as if you were the most delectable secret he had ever uncovered.

he connected his lips to your core once more, each movement deliberate and reverent. the sensation was electric, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you. his tongue expertly navigated the delicate terrain between your folds, each lap igniting a constellation of stars behind your closed eyelids, leaving you breathless and yearning for more.

“s-shit!” you stammer, your voice trembling as your fingers clutch the sheets with a desperate intensity, knuckles whitening as you struggle to anchor yourself amidst the overwhelming sensations.

"so sweet, so perfect," he continues, his voice dripping with raw desire. his eyes lock onto yours, a deep hunger burning within them that makes your heart race uncontrollably. every touch, every whispered word, seems to stoke the flames of passion within you, leaving you breathless and yearning for more, as if you were caught in an unending, intoxicating dance of desire.

"i could get lost in you," he breathes, his hands exploring your body with a reverence that sends shivers down your spine. "the way you taste, the way you feel... it's like nothing else." the intensity of his gaze, coupled with the raw passion in his voice, creates a heady mix that leaves you trembling with anticipation, as if you were standing on the edge of an abyss, ready to dive into the depths of an uncharted, intoxicating world.

"you make me crave you in ways I can't even describe," he whispers, his lips trailing down your core with a deliberate slowness that makes your breath hitch. as you arch your back, his hands glide over your skin, sending shivers through your body. feeling his tongue delve into you, a soft whine escapes your lips, mingling with the electric tension in the air. the sensation is overwhelming, each movement of his tongue drawing you deeper into a haze of desire, leaving you trembling and yearning for more.

┆ bf!matt who, lets you put little bows on his tip, smiling as he indulges your playful side, finding it both adorable and incredibly sexy.

» in the soft glow of the bedroom light, matt lies back, his chest heaving as he struggles to reclaim his breath. the aftermath of his intense release leaves him adrift in a hazy, blissful state, his mind swimming in the lingering euphoria. 

his body glistens with a fine sheen of sweat, each rise and fall of his chest a testament to the depth of his recent exertion. as he sinks deeper into the mattress, his limbs feel heavy, almost weightless, as if he is floating in the serene waters of a tranquil sea. 

the room is filled with a quiet, almost sacred stillness, punctuated only by the soft sounds of his labored breathing and the gentle rustle of the sheets.

you slowly lift yourself, your face previously nestled against his abdomen, your mouth once filled with the entirety of his length. the lingering warmth and taste still linger on your lips as you move, the memory of the intimate connection etched into your senses.

you decide to add a playful touch, meticulously tying a delicate bow on his tip. the ribbon contrasts strikingly against his skin, a small yet poignant symbol of your intimate connection. 

despite his breathlessness, he manages a faint smile, his eyes shimmering with a blend of exhaustion and deep affection.

you carefully tie the pink material around his length, each movement deliberate and gentle, as if weaving a delicate spell. he lets out a soft whimper, the sound escaping his lips involuntarily at the sensation of the fabric brushing against his throbbing dick.

"you're... something else," he murmurs, his voice still trembling from the intensity of the moment. his words, though simple, carry a weight of awe and admiration, encapsulating the profound impact you've had on him. 

you giggle softly, the sound a gentle melody in the quiet room, and lean in to press a tender kiss to his forehead. "i just wanted to leave a little reminder of our fun," you whisper, your voice carrying a playful yet affectionate undertone. the kiss, light as a feather, lingers on his skin, a tangible memory of your shared intimacy. 

he chuckles, his breath still uneven as he tries to steady himself. "you always know how to make things interesting," he says, his voice tinged with admiration and amusement. the chuckle, though light, carries the weight of his lingering excitement, and his words resonate with genuine appreciation for your knack for bringing unexpected delight into every moment.

taglist — @imwetforyourmom @meatballzerz69 @pinkishpearls @bandanamatt @thedangerousalleyway @muchloveforhacker @stinkytinkywinky @jetaimevous @everleiqh @conspiracy-ash @ifwdominicfike @blahbel668 @slutforsturnioloss @realuvrrr

[ericityyy]

Hello dear, i dont know if your tired of young sheldon requests but if you are im so sorry, i promise that for future requests it will be another fandom. But i was just thinking about georgie with a female reader where she is very protective over missy and makes sure she is not forgotten or less than sheldon, which george finds very cute.

Thank you so much

𝐁𝐢𝐠 𝐒𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝙎𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮: 𝘈 𝘴𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘔𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘺 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘢𝘥.

𝙏𝙧𝙤𝙥𝙚: 𝘓𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴, 𝘎𝘪𝘳𝘭𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘦 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘉𝘰𝘺𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥’𝘴 𝘧𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘺

𝙏𝙮𝙥𝙚: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧

𝙒𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝘾𝙤𝙪𝙣𝙩: 600

𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

“Y/N, do you think I can join the baseball team?” Missy asked with an insecure look on her face. She’s been meaning to join the baseball team for some time and was about to talk to her father about this, but then she decided to consult Y/N first.

Y/N stopped putting nail polish on the younger girl’s feet to look at her. Missy, although she may always seem fierce, doesn’t change the fact that she’s still a little girl who sometimes doesn't get that much attention from her parents. The attention most of the time is to scold her.

Don’t get Y/N wrong; Mary and George are great parents, but a lot of the time, they don’t have much trust in Missy and Georgie, and for good reasons too since most of the time, the two of them have been troublemakers. However, that doesn't change the fact that they feel inferior to Sheldon due to how their parents treat him. It has always been Sheldon who gets most of the attention.

“I think if that coach won’t let you in the team, I’ll go there myself and give him a piece of my mind.” Y/N finished polishing Missy’s nails, looking proud as ever seeing the girl’s beaming smile. “You are great with the sport, and if he can’t see that, then that old guy must be having some sight problems.”

Missy teared up at her words. She has always treated Y/N like a sister, even before Georgie and she started dating. Y/N always had Missy’s back, when Mary praised Sheldon or when George made comments about Georgie and Missy being less than Sheldon.

Missy doesn’t have a team. Not until Y/N came.

“You always are so kind to me.” Missy sniffled, causing Y/N to coo at her, bringing the crying girl into her arms. “Thank you for being here with me when I need you. You’re my team.”

Y/N pulled away from the hug to wipe the girl’s tears away, giving her a warm smile. She then stood up and grabbed a baseball bat before throwing the ball softly at Missy’s bed. “How about you and I play some ball before you go to your tryouts?”

The two girls didn’t notice that Georgie was at the doorway, leaning, "Well, aren’t you two sweet?”

Missy and Y/N turned at Georgie, the former standing up from her bed and grabbing the ball before running outside her room shouting, “Come on, Y/N!”

Y/N laughed at the girl’s enthusiasm, then turned to her boyfriend, who was smiling at her, and asked, “What is it?”

Georgie shook his head, standing up straight and walking toward the girl, who had a baseball bat on her shoulder and a hand on her waist. Georgie, at this point, decided that he was deeply in love with her. “Nothing.” He put his hands on her waist. “I just love how you’re always there for my sister; you have always protected her, and I love you for it.”

The boy kissed his girl’s cheek, noticing the slight pink hue appearing on her skin as he smirked playfully. He still has that effect on her.

“Well, what can I say? I’m the big sister she never had. I am what you call a sister by heart.” Y/N proudly, albeit teasingly, put a hand over her chest where her heart is, closing her eyes with a smile on her face. Georgie rolled his eyes, despite the chuckle that left his lips.

"Yes, you are, darling. Yes, you are.”

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄

hi, i’m sorry this is short but i can’t really think of anything else. but i hope you like this though :>

i’m also fine with the georgie requests!! but yeah i do wish i get to write other fandoms though… it’s okay though!! i enjoy writing georgie cooper imagines!!

[kaleuh]

FEELING THE FULL RANGE OF EMOTIONS ON THIS THURSDAY MORNING

tell me about ghis GlenMac?

I WILL Tell you about GlenMac !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SO

THIS IS GLENMAC (Official Book Art) AND THEN HERE'S A PICTURE OF HIM WITH HIS BEST BUDDY, Adjunct Professor and Graduate Jackson Green (art that me and my group got commissioned of them by nico on twitter!)

FULL NAME: Glenn MaClanahan (If you're formal, it's Professor MaClanahan, but all the students gave him the nickname GlenMac!)

He's a professor in the Anthropology Department at East Texas University, located in the cozy town of Pinebox, Texas. He and Jackson know fully well that there's something extremely uncozy about Pinebox, though. When you (the player) attend ETU as a freshman, you are quick to notice that there is something very unnerving about the town, and the school. Rumors of ghosts, monsters, and rituals—things that could easily be explained away by pointing at college students and children in town with too much liquor and imagination. GlenMac and Jackson are here to tell your character: No! You are not crazy! You definitely saw the ghost of a student who was burned alive in the gymnasium!

GlenMac (as well as Jackson) are the NPCs in this story who are initially there to serve your character with an introduction to the supernatural. GlenMac can really be any professor-appropriate age (I believe the book says he’s in his 40s but given the book art our DM [my boyfriend!!] deemed him to be 32 in our game. He also thought it would make sense to make him younger since him and Jackson (who is in his mid 20s) are supposed to be close pals.)

GlenMac has been investigating the supernatural for years, and deeply cares about the well-being of his students. Anyone who comes to his office hours for help will never be turned away—especially if "weird stuff" has been happening to them. In his office you'll also meet his life-long companion, a Scottish Terrier named Argyle, with whom he takes on regular walks throughout campus. He is overly caring and self-sacrificing to a fault, though, willingly placing himself in danger to protect someone who needs it. He's aware that students will occasionally stumble upon magic resources and rituals—because of this, he's been said to be searching for a method in which anyone can safely accomplish a ritual...without having to sacrifice anything to the Magical Powers That Be in return. Which seems like a great idea! A Professor with a deep thirst for the knowledge and power of the unknown, also willing to try literally anything, even if it means putting himself at the whims of Possibly Dark Magic for the good of others. It will work out fine for him, is what I've been telling myself!

SO OF COURSE, because it's a TTRPG, not all GlenMacs are the same. Here are some other fast facts about the GlenMac I know, and why I'm insane about him:

When my basketball himbo son (my character Trey) went through a tough breakup during freshman year, him and Jackson played Boggle with him and the party until he cheered up.

Also when my son was alone and sad in Pinebox during summer vacation, GlenMac adorned his best dork-ass dad jock attire and joined him on morning runs (with Argyle).

He's often stressed and formal but under that he is Sweet and A Tad Silly and a bit of a dork and god. we love him for it

GlenMac doesn't really pay attention to current pop-culture stuff online but if you tell him he Lost the Game he WILL get mad.

Unbelievable in that turtleneck.

Grew up in North Dakota, had a big falling out with his parents and has been largely alone. It's implied that he never really had a friend like Jackson, up until him (and depending on how nice your party is to him, your group.)

AND YOU CAN TELL HE'S LONELY. GOD. HE PUTS EVERYTHING INTO THIS WORK AND HIS STUDENTS. How much time he spends alone with his thoughts...the supernatural stuff probably pushed anyone he cared about away. He has his little apartment with his folded-cornered books and half-finished coffee cups and toys for his dog...but we want him to meet someone So bad 😭 (GOD I wish it were me.)

His desire to know the unknown and try things "just to see if he can" is dangerous, reckless, scary, and a little unhinged...he a little fucked up...I'm scared for him...(but its also...😳...).

This is not canon to our game but we keep joking about how girls on Rate My Professor won't stop referring to him as "Big Mac" and that he's desperately been trying to get those reviews removed.

If you ever get curious about East Texas University, I highly recommend it! I love the Savage Worlds system so much!! We're playing the East Texas University “Degrees of Horror” adventures, which is the "main plot" campaign for East Texas University (we also do some 12-to-Midnight adventures.) I think the story can be set anywhere in the 2000's so we just set ours in modern day.

We're not finished yet, but it has truly been a life-changing story so far!

GENUINELY, TRULY, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ASKING

[pankielovesfan]

ii16 spoilers under cut

MORE talk about fan similar to the other post because there is still a lot to say. This is more about what fan means to mephone

Compared to most of the other contestants, Fan wasn't originally created to BE a contestant, which I find most interesting. Fan was quite literally created to be a fan of the show and randomly appears in season 1 (and he also delivers food I guess). Even if Mephone4 consciously made Fan or not, his appearance and creation obviously meant Mephone wanted appreciation for the things he was making, as is Fan's main purpose and service to Mephone. Fan is technically a manifestation of Mephone's love for the show itself, but he is also expressing vulnerable happiness of which Mephone feels like he could not express properly considering his issues with vulnerability. This might be why he is so outwardly dismissive of Fan's strong emotional enthusiasm for the show!!

So Fan technically is a support Mephone desperately wants, but he can't respond well to- but this definitely means Mephone appreciates Fan's dedication as he quite literally wished for Fan to exist as he is, being such an engaged Fan. He expresses passion for the show in a way Mephone couldn't do himself! Fan gives Mephone support as complete opposite to what Mephone feels Cobs would have! And you know what else Cobs does that Fan has an extreme well known trait of disliking and being scared of? Change. Cobs constantly reinvents, makes new things, discards old things, but Fan latches on. He observes patterns, he begs for predictability, structure and consistency.

Another notable trait of Fan is his defensiveness. Even if he's not good at it, he's incredibly stubborn to protect his passion and love to no end, being incredibly irrational about it. Cobs is well. Yeah. Massive Passion Disliker. He don't gaf about that. Fan might've looked up to cobs and meeple, but god if he's not possibly a parallel that's the opposite. I'm going to walk into the ocean. Im forever gonna think about how fan was created to be a support. like his entire goddam purpose is to love something so much!!!! and give it so much attention! and he is having so much fun doing it!!! IT IS MAKING ME CRAZY!!!!

I'm not sure if the characters are partly "extensions" of Mephone or if they're Mephone projecting specific parts of himself, I believe most of all they are created from his desire (like, wanting a specific thing and that thing just appears for him if this is done unintentionally,) but either way I enjoy thinking about what each trait that manifested for Fan's character specifically would resonate with Mephone's experiences and why he would create him with those traits. or something.

My working theory is that Mephone labeled each character in his mind as one thing, such as "the jerk" for Knife and nothing more, letting the contestants take their own shape and personality as they gain more experience on the show, which I feel is validated through Lightbulb saying "I don't think we were all there yet" once seeing the season 1 contestants in alternate reality show! They build more of their personality as it goes along. I think Mephone has minimal control of the contestants personality wise after he's generated them, but i do think he influences their memories or experience with time or something?? I dont know. guess we will all see. Also this somehow isn't about fan anymore wow that's weird actually who am i where am i

relevant drawing. Time to collapse to my knees over this shit again

[bigfatbimbo]

MROE MORE MORE MORE I I JSUT NEED MORE STANLEY BILL STANFORD AND FIDDLEFORD YOUR WIRIRNT IS SO FUCKIMG GOOD OH MY GOD KEEEP ON WRITING DONT STOP WHY R YOU SO TSENTEED!.!!,!,,, PIT ME IN A ROOM WITH ALL OF THEM AND I WONT BE THE ONE COMING OUT ORGENEATN OH MY FUKCJNG GODDD YOU AWTE SO AWRSOME

I love you and your writing, please do not suddenly disappear off the face of the earth. (ゝз○`)

I LOVE YOUR ENTHUSIASM. Also I’m going to take this request, since you seem to be specifically excited at the thought of more content, to talk about things i’ve been wanting to write!

[lalala PLEASE SEND REQUESTS lalala]

Bill with equally/exeedingly powerful reader is so interesting to me, there’d be so much competition there and the fact it’d probably be one sided on his part.

ANYTHING with young fiddleford, he’s such a cutie!! From his little hillbilly town omgmgmgmg he’s such a cute little nerd, I love him.

A full Stanford fic, those headcanons did pretty well so if I get a specific enough request i’d literally be ON IT.

I also have a fluffy Bill fic in drafts and that’s all i’ll say about that!

Alternatively in drafts, I have princess bubblegum headcanons. STARVING for adventure time requests, that kept me fed.

Also I’d like to do more with Stanley.. maybe smut this time?

OH and aside from gravity falls, Diego Hargreaves. Would love to fuck him. Him as a sub? Literally, i’m busting.

Lastly… pegging bill? I have nothing planned or in mind, but maybe this could go with the powerful reader. Dunno, but have ideas!

[letternotekisses]

Hewwoo i dont know if you do threesome nsfw headcanons but if you do, can i request Leland Coyle feeling generous and sharing his "prisoner" (aka the reader) with his trusted Big Grunt (the brown haired one)? 👉🏻👈🏻

size kink go brrr <3 nsfw under da cut

"Oh, you pretty little thing..." - Big Grunt, during a chase.

Coyle's a possessive man...but he's also a freak. The man likes watching you take a big cock, so what better to get his trusted big grunt involved? Leland does take control of the situation, mind. He splits you open first, staking his claim by having the grunt watch as you squirm on his cock. He's kind enough to let the brute fondle himself while he watches - but if he wants to share Coyle's pretty little prisoner, he's gonna have to fuckin' work for it.

Leland ensures you're ready for it - he won't have his favourite prisoner broken just yet. He watches on, cigarette hanging from the corner of his lips as the Grunt works his oversized fingers into your sweet little hole. He gives the Grunt a small zap with the baton every now and then - encouraging him to eat you out just a little bit faster. Big Grunt's cock hangs between his thighs, throbbing and pulsing with the need to stuff himself into your cute little cunt already but - ah ah, she ain't ready yet! And with a shock, he's back between your thighs with a newfound vigour.

Once he's happy with the soaking mess between your thighs, Coyle finally lets the Big Grunt align his fat cock up against your slit. By all means, the Grunt's sheer size and enthusiasm made up for any experience he may have lacked - as even Coyle slid his sunglasses down to get a better look at the way his cock filled you up - pushing you to your limits. But hey, Leland can't let his Grunt have all the fun, and he soon moves his hand up to grab your soft throat - sliding inside your warm mouth with one smooth movement of his hips.

Big Grunt's movements are jerky, hips stuttering sloppily against your backside as he buries himself impossibly deeper inside your tight hole - making you whine with uncertainty around Coyle's cock, sending vibrations up his shaft that make him grumble in pleasure. Leland cups your cheek, your mouth hollowing around the head of him as he stares down at you through his sunglasses - the burning cherry of his cigarette wafting smoke sensually through the air. His voice is a quiet growl because of course you can take them both, you wanna be rehabilitated, don'tcha?

The Big Grunt likes it when you writhe under him as he watches the point of where you both meet with delight, his fat cock plunging in and out of you. Places a huge, scarred hand on the small of your back when you clench around him especially tight, keeping you grounded and still with a deep chuckle, "Easy, now."

I'm also making it a point that Coyle hates to be shown up. If you moan and whine a little bit more when the Grunt delves inside of you, the bastard cop will make it a point to get you to scream louder. In the end it just results in you being thoroughly worn out, splayed over Leland's lap as he enjoys his post-sex cigarette with a hand planted firmly on your ass. The Grunt stumbles out of the room in a daze, cum streaking his thighs as he prays and hopes that Coyle will feel generous a bit more often.

"Why, you been rehabilitated." >>>

[formicarum-rex]

as @transrevolutions mentioned, it was the CSG, not the CSP

Adding this as a reblog rather than a reply because in his biography of Paine, Fruchtman quotes a portion of the order from the committee, in english, and cites Bernard Vincent, who gives the original french:

Le Comité arrête que les nommés Thomas Paine et Anacharsis Clootsz, ci-devant députés de la Conventions nationale, seront saisis et traduits par mesure de sûreté générale dans une maison d'arrêt, qu'examen sera fait de leurs papiers, que ceux qui pourront se trouver suspects seront mis sous les scellés et apportés au Comité de Sûreté générale; Charge les citoyens Jean-Baptiste Martin et Lamy, porteurs du présent, de son exécution, auquel effet ils requerront les autorités civiles, et, si besoin est, la force armée.

and cites in the footnotes:

Les pièces officielles de l'arrestation de Paine -- ordre d'arrestation, procès-verbal de l'arrestation, réception du prisonnier -- se trouvent aux Archives nationales: F7 4774, 61.

No idea if that is digitized and online, but please do share if you find it!

Kind of related to Paine believing Vadier signed his warrent-- per Keane, Paine suggested in a later political article he wrote in America that Barère had signed the warrant:

I was one of the nine members that composed the first Committee of Constitution. Six of them have been destroyed. Sieyès and myself have survived—he by bending with the times, and I by not bending. The other survivor [Barère] joined Robespierre; he was seized and imprisoned in his turn, and sentenced to transportation. He has since apologized to me for having signed the warrant, by saying he felt himself in danger and was obliged to do it.

This is from "Thomas Paine to the Citizens of the United States, and Particularly to the Leaders of the Federalist Faction" from 1802.

(Unrelated, but Paine kind of laughably compares the Federalists like Washington and Adams to Robespierre in this article, calling Washington's second term and the Adams administration an American Reign of Terror. I love paine, but his later American political works are.... not his best work, lmao.)

I am bugged by a thing: When and how and why exactly is Thomas Paine arrested? I was going through the Recueil des actes du Comité de salut public instead of preparing for my presentation and saw no indicaton of it around the alleged time (Dez. 26/28th) of his arrest? (I think I am looking at the wrong docu

[mmogurl]

In The Shadow of Dragons Chapter 2: Forbidden Fruit

18+ | 3.1k | Daemon Targaryen X Female OC | possessive, protective, objectifying, simping, raunchy Daemon | Uncle / niece incest, Smut, Dragons, Political Intrigue, Plotting, Murder, lots of old timey concepts that don't make a lot of sense today, but are still kind of hot/fun.

The rest of Daemon's night once Ryna leaves. He also spends some time thinking back on the past. Continuing the story from Daemon's POV.

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5 | CH 6 | CH 7 | CH 8 | CH 9 Also on AO3

Daemon drained the last remnants of his chalice, savoring every drop of the wine as it passed his lips. Then, he leaned against the edge of the parapet, allowing the refreshing caress of the night air to sooth his thoughts and quell his lingering passions.

He could still taste her on his lips.

His sweet little niece.

He chuckled softly at the idea that he’d gone from barely being able to speak to her, to the young princess practically begging him to take her maidenhead.

And he would…

But first, if he was to go up against Viserys, he’d have to tread carefully.

He would need to be the perfect, repentant uncle. His brother would have to see Ryna’s affections had curbed his rashness and impulsivity… at least in his eyes. The task at hand was indeed a daunting one, for Daemon would have to win over the King’s favor, which was no small feat.

With an exasperated sigh, he turned and began the journey back inside the castle, his mind consumed with ideas on how to gain his brother’s trust once more. The party was still in full swing when Daemon returned to the Great Hall, but he could tell immediately that tonight might not be the best time for conversation.

His elder brother sat alone in his chair, drinking deep of his wine. He was the King of Westeros, but he looked like nothing more than a drunk wallowing in his cups. Daemon felt an ache in his chest at the sight of what his proud brother had become. Had the Hightower bitch and her ilk brought the King so low in Daemon’s absence these past years?

He knew a simple word from him would have the King’s attention, but as he watched his brother raise the chalice to his lips and pour a generous measure of wine down his throat, he knew no real progress would be made this evening.

Perhaps in the morning with Viserys’ head clear of the effects of the drink, Daemon would be able to speak with him.

Just a moment…

A smile tugged at his lips as he realized that it would be much easier to handle his brother in the morning when his head was likely to be thrumming from the effects of the Arbor red.

Yes, that is precisely what I need.

Daemon glanced around, hoping to lay his eyes upon his little niece, but there was no trace of her among the masses. She’d likely already retired to her chambers for the night, a thought he realized was disappointing. He stepped up to one of the long tables and began preparing a plate of food, his appetite finally getting the better of him.

Once satisfied with his selection of meats, he walked over to the dais and sat down at the edge of the empty table, close to Viserys who sat aside it. Daemon refilled his cup from a carafe that was still nearly full and nodded politely to his brother.

“Finally tired of prowling the countryside for whores, brother?” Viserys bellowed with inebriated enthusiasm.

Perfect.

Daemon laughed gruffly as he chewed the cold meat he’d bitten off. “Not as of late. It grows tiresome having to entertain every desperate widow and wanton maid who seeks a night with the infamous ‘Rogue Prince.’” He took a long swig of his wine before continuing. “It seems that the reputation I’ve built for myself follows me, whether I desire it or not.”

Viserys let out a belly laugh that echoed through the Great Hall. “Don’t dont that you relish in such rumors. You’ve always loved the attention.” The King gave his own thigh a hearty pat, the wine had clearly taken its hold on him. “I admit, I have always enjoyed the tales of your exploits, brother. Especially the one about the two septas!”

“Ah yes, the beautiful and devout septas. I’m sure the Seven above must have heard every single prayer uttered within my chamber that night.” He’d almost forgotten about that particular night, but it wouldn’t help him in the slightest with his current conquest.

“But enough of that, we’re here to celebrate the birth of your grandson.” And my inevitable claim to your daughter. “How goes the realm in my absence, Brother?”

Viserys chuckled, raising his chalice up to his brother, but not before emptying its contents with a quick swig. “Ah, it’s the same as it always is. The great houses squabble amongst themselves like children… And my daughter continues to drive me to an early grave. I confess, I’m not sure what to do with her.”

“Which of my nieces is troubling you?” Daemon asked with the raise of his brow and smirked.

“Both of them,” Viserys groaned with frustration. “I hear nothing but contemptuous rumors about Rhaenyra and Ryna won’t even consider a suitor, always with some excuse about how all lords available are unworthy of her.”

Daemon had to hold back a scoff. She is not wrong.

Instead he hummed in agreement, playing the role of the dutiful brother flawlessly. “It is indeed a pity, dear brother. She has reached the age to marry and has had ample opportunity to choose a husband. As King, her union should be at your prompting, should it not?”

Viserys let out a sound that was something between a snort and a sigh, letting his annoyance show through. “Yes ‘should’ and ‘would’ are two different things, particularly when it comes to my daughter,” he said shaking his head. “Ryna is just as headstrong as her elder sister, even though she is more agreeable on the whole.”

Daemon nodded along as he finished his meal and set the plate aside, knowing only too well of Ryna’s fiery side. The way she had demanded he give up the throne on the battlements had been a stark reminder that she was no longer an entirely docile child. That boldness would prove useful to him though, especially with the plans he had in mind.

She’ll be a willful little wife. One I look forward to taming.

Viserys refilled his chalice and drowned in another helping of wine, his tone growing more somber as he continued. “Ryna is a good girl, but her head is in the clouds when it comes to marriage. I fear that she has an idealistic dream of the perfect match, a husband who will love her and shower her with affection.” He took another long drink. “Such men do not exist, at least not in the ranks of the eligible lords of the realm. But a certain kind of affection can often grow once wed.”

Daemon let a pointed laugh die against his closed lips. No man would cherish sweet little Ryna as much as I, brother. He tried to ignore the pang of jealousy when Viserys mentioned some faceless cunt of a lord touching the princess in any way.

“That does not surprise me. I’m sure my niece will have high hopes for any potential match,” Daemon said with a feigned indifference. “All young girls wish for such a perfect husband, but the princess must consider her duties to the realm.”

Viserys gave Daemon a queer look of surprise, as if he were not expecting his brother to be so reasonable on the subject. “You truly think so? Have all the women you have known desired such a union?” he snickered at the implication. “Don’t tell me you’ve suddenly become a romantic, after all of these years.”

Daemon leaned back in his chair nonchalantly. “Perhaps I have grown tired of bedding whores and have a desire to settle down in my old age…” He reached over for his chalice and took a slow, pensive sip, watching Viserys’ face change as he was clearly caught off guard by such a statement. “I had tried, but the Gods did not see fit to let my last lady-wife persist through childbirth.”

The King nodded mournfully, “Laena… I am sorry brother.” Viserys dragged his chair over to his brother slightly and gave Daemon’s leg a gentle, understanding pat.

“Yes, Laena…” he mused, not wishing to think on the past. “I did care for her. I tried, truly,” he said with a twinge of regret in his tone. “But I simply did not share a love for her like the great love you shared with Aemma. I never shall I suppose, but I still wish I could…” He trailed off, lost in his own thoughts for a moment before looking back to Viserys.

“Aemma was my favored wife, it’s true. I believe it is why I dote on Rhaenyra and Ryna so much. I still miss her terribly, but you cannot simply force a love like that, not with a lady you do not feel it for.” Viserys sighed knowingly before continuing, emotion obvious in his expression. “I was fortunate enough to find my love. Perhaps, even you will find yours one day, Daemon.”

Daemon struggled hard to suppress a smile at that last statement. Oh, I’ve found her already, dear brother. I’ll see that little princess of yours as my wife if it’s the last thing I do. Though that was not a conversation he wished to have tonight.

He feigned a sympathetic smile as he refilled his chalice with dark red wine from the carafe. “Perhaps… Only time will tell.”

The talk between brothers continued, consisting mostly of harmless banter. Daemon did his best to maintain the friendly demeanor, letting his brother babble on and on drunkenly as the hour grew late. With each passing hour, he could see Viserys’ body grow heavier with sleep and inebriation. Though the King continued to fight it, his eyelids grew heavier until he finally relented to the alcohol’s pull. With that he slowly sank back into the chair, his head slowly rolling sideways.

Daemon sniggered as the Hightower bitch shuffled up to the high table, attempting to correct the drunken image he was portraying to his subjects. She snapped for the guards to help her escort the King out of the Great Hall and back to his chambers. Daemon nodded towards Alicent keeping the bare minimum of civility before turning his attention back to the celebration.

There were still a decent amount of guests lingering, laughing amongst themselves or drunkenly stumbling towards the exit. He stood and stretched like a cat, then made to leave the Hall.

He walked with a brisk pace back towards his rooms, trying to quell the anticipation he felt building in his chest. Ryna would be in her chambers now, likely having changed into some comfortable night shift. Daemon had a fondness for sleeping gowns; they were always made of a thin, light material that left nothing to the imagination.

Daemon shook his head trying to dismiss his growing excitement at the thought of all those pretty pale curves, begging to be claimed.

No, no. I must be patient.

He reached the door to his chamber and made quick work of the few latches that secured it. Once inside, he kicked the door shut and began to disrobe, pulling off his leather vest and then his doublet. He changed into a linen tunic, not bothering to fasten the ties, but simply letting the material hang loose. Daemon then laid down on the bed, folding his arms behind his head while he tried to relax into the soft mattress.

“You never once glanced my way.”

Ryna’s words rang in his head, his brow furrowing as he recalled the frenzied distress of her voice and the pain present in her eyes. He had done a good job of hiding his feelings it seemed, at least in recent years. When his little Ryna had still been a child, things had been simpler. Daemon never had to hide his care for the girl, for she reminded him of himself. A second child, always wanting for love and attention and always deprived of it. It was never a hassle to spoil her with gifts and trips whenever he had time to.

It wasn’t until he came back to King’s Landing after his victory in the Stepstones that he first started to notice his youngest niece in a different light. And there was something about his newfound attraction to her that both delighted and disgusted him.

She stood out from the crowd gathered in the Great Hall to witness his return and her blond and silver curls flowing down past her shoulders drew Daemon’s attention almost immediately. He did not even recognize her at first with those pouty, deep pink lips leading straight into a full bosom.

After Viserys accepted him back, he had waited for the right opportunity to approach her, but Rhaenyra had insisted on throwing herself at him every moment she was able. Which of course resulted in uncomfortable glances from both her father and goodmother as she tried to inject herself into a conversation where she did not belong.

But as Rhaenyra and Alicent walked off together and Viserys made conversation with his Hand, Daemon finally found the right moment to speak to her. He approached the young woman who had replaced his niece as she sat alone on a stone bench, nibbling away at a sweet cake. He felt like a stranger to someone once so dear to him and he regretted those four years he’d spent away from King’s Landing most in that moment.

Ryna acted as though not a day had passed and surprised him when she jumped up from her seat and embraced him as though she were still a child. There hadn’t been much in his life that he’d felt wicked for, but the arousal he felt shoot to his groin in that moment was one of them. He knew then he could not stain the memory of someone so pure with such debauched thoughts.

Daemon backed away, not even giving her the gift he had tucked away in his pocket, and he had stayed away from her since. It might have been cruel, for she had tried to approach him so many times after, but he thought it best that he keep his distance. She did not deserve a wolf such as him barking at her heels. He would deny himself this one indulgence.

As he stood beneath the heart tree thinking of what must never come to pass, Rhaenyra approached him once more. She was practically lusting after him, all but saying it out loud how much she desired him. It was then that he realized how similar they were. They were both vicious and willing to do almost anything to get what they wanted. Almost anything.

It dawned on him that perhaps he deserved Rhaenyra. That they deserved each other. And that it would be a means to return to the throne he’d been robbed of. And in that instant, he’d make a foolish mistake. He’d tell himself that what he felt for his first niece was good enough. It wasn’t about love after all, it was about gaining advantage. About producing heirs. She had the same Valyrian blood running through her veins, and she was just as dark as he. Not good and innocent as his precious little sweetling was.

And just as many have been wont to do when aggrieved, he had taken the bait. As she bat her lashes at him, flirting while proudly displaying the necklace he had once given her while she spoke of not wanting to be married off. She might as well have been begging him to marry her instead, but Viserys would never go for it and he knew it well. So he’d stolen her away from the castle at night, brought her out to see the sights, and ultimately ended up in the basement of a brothel with her.

Daemon hadn’t even been sure what his intentions were that night. Perhaps he wished to sully her maidenhood in an attempt to force Viserys’ hand into either self-sabotage or the desired marriage. Or perhaps he just wished to forget, to claim another girl instead of the one he wanted, but dare not touch. Even then, he could not go through with it. He could not even lose himself in Rhaenyra for that golden head of hair reminded him too much of his sweetling.

He had been foolish. He never should have reacted so poorly, but the truth of it was that he had no idea how to handle what he’d felt. Daemon should have simply used restraint in dealing with Ryna, but he’d never been good at resisting temptation. He wasn’t certain he had what it took to control his base desires in the face of such carnal enticements.

Perhaps in the end it had been best that he had run away from it all. He’d learned much about temperance from his marriage to Laena, even if his thoughts had always remained preoccupied with another. And in all those years he spent away, Ryna had grown into a true Valyrian woman, rivaling the beauty of all who came before her.

Earlier that very night, he’d become a few cups deep after hearing the chatter of several lords that had been vying for his sweetling’s hand. The sickening rumors that the King would be forcing her to wed brought him out to the battlements to sulk. But, when he saw her parade out in front of him, dressed in a beautiful blue gown with her hair glimmering in the moonlight, he decided he could no longer hold back. He must approach her, revisit the feeling that had kept him away for so long and see if it still made him feel like a disgusting cad.

He was more than overjoyed when it did not.

It might have been that enough time had passed and he no longer recalled her so vividly as the child she once was, or perhaps it was the thought of losing her forever to another man that finally allowed him to be free of his shame.

Then there was the very way Ryna had responded to him so eagerly. He supposed that alone was enough to chase away the doubts he’d been harboring. She was his and had always been his. His niece had been meant for him and him alone.

Daemon sighed heavily, thinking of the way her lips had felt against his. How flawless her porcelain skin was and how soft her thighs felt beneath his fingers. He could feel his cock growing rigid as he began to drift off, the wine finally doing him in. Read Chapter 3

[opiumsturn]

GHOSTBUSTERS!

M.STURNIOLO

IN WHICH- Y/n wants to go to a haunted hotel but ends up regretting her decision

WARNINGS- use of y/n,fluff,pet names (mama,ma,princess,baby,ect.) ,haunted things idk

A/N- This is kinda butt sorry guys also my bday tmmr chatttt!

I was scrolling through my phone on instagram looking at haunted areas for fun and to maybe see if Matt would be down to go together?

I was scrolling for not too long before one area in general catches my eye 'driskill hotel'. This was the one. I looked more in it to see what it was about. '98 spirits roam this hotel'. 'most active spir-' 'the story of-'.

Just as I go to save this, Matt walks in the room setting his keys down exhausted from fliming and mettings all day.

"Hey baby." he says walking up to the bed where i lay

"Hey My love!! oh my okay so look. just listen! okay i was scrolling on instagram looking at haunted places and i was thinking what if-" his eyes widening while smiling and giggling at my enthusiasm but cutting me off before i finish.

"Dont even ask me to go there." He chuckles sitting next to me.

"But Matt! pleaseeeeee" i beg sitting up to him grabbing my wrist leading his hands to my waist sitting me on his lap, my back against his chest.

"Baby are you out of your mind?" He laughs

"It would be so fun!! pleaseee" I plead looking at the pictures on my phone.

"Y/n no!" He says in a joking disbelief.

"Mattt!! please there will be a tour guide and everything just plea-"

"Okay! fine." He chuckles resting his head on my shoulder nuzzling in the crook of my neck.

"REALLY?!" I say turning around to face him

"Mhmm" He says smiling

"THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU I LOVE YOU" I basically shout hugging him now straddling him (not like that..)

"I love you too" he says hugging me back giggling.

I leap from excitement scheduling an appointment for our tour.

"Okay! tommorow at 7pm." i say proudly.

"You got a reservation already?" he says shocked chuckling.

"yup!" i smile widely.

"Your insane" He chuckles.

I giggle at his reply laying down on his chest as we both lay down getting ready for bed, the excitment for tommorow not leaving my body.

Matt scrolls through his phone for a few minutes before we both fall asleep with eachother. Matt puts his phone down pulling the covers over him and I kissing my forehead before whispering to me.

"Goodnight sweet girl, I love you" Knowing im fast asleep he still does the smallest but cutest things ever.

NEXT DAY

I wake up at around 1 p.m still on Matts chest to see he's awake on his phone making sure his volume was low enough for him to hear but also to not wake me up.

"Good Afternoon sleepy head" He says still in his morning voice.

"Hey baby" i say in a raspy tone rubbing my eyes while placing a kiss onto matts chest. "Hey dont forget we have that hotel to visit todayyy!!" I say fully waking up just by remebering what we will be doing.

As a young girl i always liked scary things and horror. I could handle horror. I mean certain things.. Maybe just through a screen. Never in real life..Shit.

The thought now made my excitment into nervousness.

"Im gonna go get ready." i say getting up off matts chest into my closet, grabbing a towel and walking into the bathroom. Its as if everything was starting to bother me now. I feel a cold sudden gust of wind as i walk into the bathroom and shut the door. Its nothing. I go to turn on the shower and hang my towel up, undressing infront of the mirror which im not looking at at the moment. I lift my shirt up and as soon as its off i look up into the mirror. A black shadow by me. I jump turning around but nothing.

Its just my imagination. Im just scared. and i was 100%.

I hop into the shower closing my eyes as the warm water hits my cold bare skin. The though of someone or something watching me suddenly coming to mind. I shoot my eyes open. Nothing as expected.

After i shower i dry off wrapping my towel around my freezing body walking back into my room where matt layed on my bed.

I hadn't noticed but my face was pale and i looked as if i had just seen a ghost.

"Woah.. hey ma are you okay?.." matt asks worridly getting up and coming toward my frozen still body.

"i-uh.. yeah? why?" I say as quick as i can

"you look like you just saw a ghost baby." He says worridley

Ghost. Ghost. Ghost. Spirits. Haunted. Tour.

"Wha-oh yeah..no im fine!" I say clearing out of my thoughts.

"o..okay." he says suspiciously

I go to get ready wearing White jeans,my brown fresh love hoodie,and my brown dunks. I put on some jewlery,do my hair and my makeup before matt and i head to his house so he can get ready.

3:37 P.M

We arrive at the triplets house heading up to matts room while he steps in the bathroom to shower i go into chris' room since Nick was at madis house.

I get to Chris' door and knock three times before hearing chris say

"come in!"

I walk into his room, hes playing fortnite with one ear out of his headset looking at who just walked in his door.

"Oh wsg twinn" He says looking back at his P.c

"Nothing just waiting for matt to come out the shower" i say plopping down on his bed getting on my phone to maybe ease my nerves.

4:32

Matt walks into chris' room wearing an outfit that matches mine. A brown T-shirt,a white long sleeve under,and white jeans.

"Hey Chris." he says going up to dap up his brother before coming up to me

"Hey baby, you ready?" He asks standing at the side of the bed

"Y..Yeah" I say hesitantly.

"Where are you guys going?" Chris asks

"Some haunted hotel she wanted to visit." Matt replies

"What hotel dude I heard about this crazy haunted one called like the Driskill hotel or sumn. heard that shits scary" Chris says

My heart sunk and the color from my face probably disappeared.

"Oh yeah thats the one" Matt says

"Damn. Good luck" Chris chuckled.

"Shut the fuck up loser, C'mon ma" He says

5:00

We get into the car driving to the place which is an hour away from us.

Matts driving with one hand as his other hand holds mine. Im zoned out. Its quiet.My legs bouncing.

"Alright sweetheart theres clearly something bothering you. what is it?" Matt says bringing me back to reality.

"What? No..Im fine. Just.. a little nervous about this..you know." I say nervously chuckling

"Its okay ma. You'll be fine, I'll be with you the whole time okay?" He says reassuringly squeezing my hand.

"Okay.." I reply.

We arrive to the area at 6:00pm having an hour left before our tour starts.

"Hey baby wanna go get food? we still have an hour left." Matt says in a soft tone stopping at a red light.

"Yeah." i mumble.

we decided to get fast food considering we only had an hour left so we didnt have many options.

6:52pm

We had finished eating and talking which had calmed my nerves down a little but i was still scared. i had been in my thoughts so long that i didnt even realize we were here or matt calling my name.

"Y/nnn? hellooo?" matt says stretching out his words.

"Oh-uh Yeah? sorry" i reply quickly

"We're here mama" He says exiting the car going around to open my door

"c'mon princess" He says opening my door and grabbing my hand leading me out the car.

We walk into the hotel the chills run down my spine as if all warm air turned into frozen air. I could almost feel the color of my skin drop from how scared i was.

our tour guide walks up to us greeting us before showing me and matt around. I made sure to stay by matts side the whole time holding his hand,arm,shoulders touching, just anything. i didnt want to lose him from my sight nor did i want myself lost from his.

As we walk around to the 5th floor of the hotel i saw a figure run by the hall causing me to ghasp and let out a small shout.

"SHIT! WHAT WAS THAT?" I ghasp, my heart racing 50 miles a second.

"Woah woah baby what was what?" Matt says moving his arm to the small of my back making me turn into him going into his chest wrapping his arms around me.

"There was- I saw something!" I manage

"This is the most haunted floor honey so you might have." the tour guide says.

"c'mon baby its okay i got you okay?" Matt says wrapping his arm around my waist puling me close to him.

We had walked for about an hour now going around the whole hotel before the tour guide speaks up.

"These elevators are known to malfunction al the time but there is one thing we always do on tours and that is have our guest play the Elevator Game." she says

"Oh whats that?" matt says with ease

"its known that if you enter an elevator and say 'take me to another world' then press a series of buttons in a certain order then on the last floor before the lobby a spirit enters the elevator with you and instead of the elevator going back down to the lobby it will go up into another world." she explains.

"you want to sweetheart?" matt asks me.

"y-yeah" i said hesitant.

"alright then! so your gonna press the numbers in this order which is 2,6,8,2,5 then back to lobby okay?" our guide says.

"mhm" me an matt say in unision.

I was terrified but im the one who wanted to do this and i didnt want to ruin the fun. Me and matt had stepped into the elevator before matt had spoken the words "please take me to another worls, i may regret saying that but whatever" he says before pressing the button 2.

I had been shaking and biting my nails and matt had clearly noticed.

"Okay princess whats up?" He asks me pulling me to a distance putting both his hand on my hips.

"Its embarrassing but im scared matt." i say to him shyly

"oh mama its okay" he says pulling me into his chest kissing my head "watch honey we're gonna go back to the lobby and go home after" he says comforting me.

"okay baby thank you..sorry too" i reply

"No y/n/n dont be its okay ma" he says holding us chest to chest.

After we had done all level we pressed the lobby button hoping that it would actually go to lobby which it did calming all my nerves knowing we were finally leaving.

Once we get back from the elevator we thank out tour guide and walk to the car getting in.

"You okay mama?" matt asks putting his hand on my thigh rubbing his thumb ever so lightyly on it.

"yeah love thank you" i smile at him as he turns the car on and drives home.

"i love you Matt" I say

"I love you too pretty girl."

[ch6douin]

I was inspired by pictures of cats on the aftermath of meeting their owners or random people who love cats with lipstick on. Imagine players in their world with their lil plush counterparts and one night after being given a little too much booze by demi characters are seeing their plush counterparts covered in lipstick marks. Player is seen with smeared lipstick the same shade.

Victor is fucking unsure of what to do. He’s hiding in his room, face pushed into his pillow. Laying on his stomach and swinging his feet. Victors plush is seen admiring its kiss marks. Also wick probably got a kiss mark on his forehead. Everyone but victor getting a kiss smh

Andrew is still reeling from spotting his plush self coated in lil kiss marks. They make eye contact. Andrews like “Huh?????” His plush counterpart says nothing but lowers its head almost bashfully.

Ganji is both sorta flattered but also probably one of the ones trying to figure out how to clean his plushie off. Not until after he’s done marking this down in his memory tho.

Emma has the same reaction as victor. But probably is seen skipping around holding her plushie self. Is in a good mood for remaining week.

Also i wanna add Demi witnessed all of this and had the time of her life. The mighty player being a very very affectionate and cuddly drunk is one thing she had not been prepared for but my god. Cutest thing ever. Only one of the survivors to be given a kiss on her forehead. Got some good cuddles too.

Freddy plush is only one to be unkissed. Freddy plush is seen to be bitter about this and has been a bully. Freddy acts like he dont care but it keeps him up at night. Fuck freddy. All my homies hate freddy.

Oh god that is so cute anon (all my homies hate freddy too)

The thought that you spared some time to pepper kisses on the soft material of plushies that resemble them makes some of them absolutely smitten. Are you trying to send them an indirect message? Does that mean that you...you wanna kiss them? Are these your hidden intentions?

Thanks to you, they cannot help but panic whenever they are alone with you. Some of them are pretty good at pretending not to, but Andrew for example? Every time you move towards him you can see the way he looks away and scowls in embarrassment. Yes, embarrassment, he is not mad at you surprisingly. And clueless you don't even know why some of them are acting so weird because you don't remember anything. Demi is happy with the outcome, she had the privilege of seeing you in a vulnerable state no one else ever did, and she got real kisses too.

"There you go. Run around or whatever you have in mind..." Ganji murmurs, messily stuffing his pocket with the washcloth he was just using as his plushie jumps from his lap and scurries away with enthusiasm, Ganji figures out that it is about to run around the manor looking for you out of all people. Even he didn't know why the plushie was so attached to you, it was squirming out of his lap just a few seconds ago, earning an annoyed grunt from Ganji who just wished to clean the evident lipstick marks from its grumpy face. Why did that thing like you more than himself? No matter how much he contemplates, nothing comes up to soothe his confusion.

Then, he is thinking of these kisses much to his dismay. How they were scattered over its chin, cheeks, eyebrows, nose...lips. And he knows that it was you because he decided to pay attention to you and let his eyes linger and there it was, the same tone of those goddamn lipstick marks. He knows that you pressed your soft lips all over the little bundle of energy and let it stumble its way back to him, so dizzy and lovesick. Lucky thing—no, he did NOT just think that. There is nothing else to do besides slumping on his chair with a sigh, hands running through his curly hair.

He doesn't want to let his guard down, however, it's so painful not to think of having you plopping your lips against his instead.

(that was supposed to be MEE bro)

[zarnzarn]

I absolute adore your Athena fic and how you interpreted “make her kingdom fall” as Athena’s mind but I had an angsty thought. Yes Athena is the goddess of wisdom, of strategy, of so many mental thing but she is also the goddess of handicrafts, especially weaving. Something that would be incredibly difficult with such severe burns and burn scars……

anyway, just a thought.

BRO DONT DO THIS OMG.....

oh dude but youre so right.... She picks up some thread at the market with Telemachus one day for his mother's birthday, and smiles fondly at Penelope's squealing enthusiasm for the gift, picking up a protesting Telemachus in a hug and squeezing Athena's hand gratefully. She begs for Athena to try out the thread with her, dragging her over to the loom and sitting her down, asking for tips and tricks.

and athena sighs and removes her metal gloves to pick up the thread and-

Cries out. Drops the shuttle, knocks over the loom as the sharp pain that burns through her, the fine thread sliding across her palm in a motion she had done so many times turned into an agonizing line of fire along the burns she had just realized were the reasons her hands had been so tender and sore. Penelope rushes over and grabs for her hands, Telemachus going for the thread and cutting it away before the ichor can disintegrate the spool fully.

Penelope manages to get Athena's hands away from where she'd clutched them against her chest, prying them open and gasping in horror, a hand going to her mouth. They stare down at the ruined mess of them, pink and shiny and raw, bleeding in the middle.

Athena looks down mutely, feeling the shame and mortification settle heavy on her. Even weaving. Even weaving he took from her. Goddess of Weaving, and she could no longer do even that.

For a moment, she can barely bring herself to confront the fact that there were others standing in front of her- that Penelope and Telemachus were staring at her disgrace- then Penelope throws herself onto her, trying to fold Athena into her arms for comfort, sobbing.

Athena stares at nothing, blankly swinging her gaze to Telemachus, who is also crying, hands at his sides as he looks at her. She kneels down when Penelope pulls at her, lets herself be pulled under Penelope's chin, the Ithakan Queen, one of her chosen, and slowly rests her head against her chest as Penelope cries on her behalf.

Even weaving.