#HE BEGINS WAILING IN PROTEST

[kruinka]

reblogging this again after ive finished the fic

x : LOVE OF A KIND :*+ﾟ

in which: kaiser needs to be reassured that you love him, even if it's just a fraction of how special you are to him.

warnings: 2.3k words, toothrotting fluff and minor angst, kaiser is intoxicated, mentions of alcohol and clubbing, insecure!kaiser, gn!reader, BAD WRITING and ooc!kaiser probably, established relationship, if this flops i will cry. here we love pathetic men.

a/n: fuck you @kruinka for birthing this. actually fuck you. that's the a/n. enjoy whatever this is!

it’s approximately 1am when your phone vibrates violently on the kitchen counter, disturbing the gentle, unrushed ambience of friday evening (or saturday morning) in your apartment. pressing the space bar of your laptop with a lot more force than necessary, the show you were watching pauses as you throw the blankets off you, the chill of the air seeping into your body with each step you take.

noticing the contact name, you accept the call readily, pressing the ‘speaker’ option. immediately, you hear the noise of club music, people singing along and indistinct chatter.

“hello?” you ask, directly into the microphone.

“y/n?” ness’s voice returns.

“hey, what’s up?”

“sorry for bothering you so late. were you about to go to bed?”

“no, actually, i was staying up. something the matter?”

“it’s kaiser,” the brunet-purple-haired boy tells you and your heart drops with anxiety, mind beginning to race with whatever your egotistical, narcissism-driven boyfriend could have got himself into.

probably tried to square up someone far more impressive, for all you know. did he break something? spit in someone’s drink?

“i-it’s nothing bad!” ness reassures, “he’s just asking for you.” 

oh. that’s not so terrible. “okay, but why?”

in the phone’s proximity, you can hear someone stumbling and muttering in the background. there’s an indistinct mumble of your name and ness confirming your presence on the other side of the phone, followed by an excited ‘really?’ from the mystery figure. you find comfort in the fact that you know it’s kaiser before the person even has to announce himself.

“sorry, he’s just asking for you… a lot,” the soccer player informs with a little hesitation.

before you can inquire further about it, kaiser’s voice echoes in the background. “let me talk to y/n!” he sounds faraway, but you can imagine his expression regardless from just the desperately excited tone he has. 

“i can tell,” you chuckle. 

“give me the phone, ness,” kaiser demands. there’s a sentence of complaint from the midfielder and some (aggressive) rustling before you can hear your boyfriend loud and clear. “baby!” he slurs.

“hello, kaiser,” you say, grinning stupidly at the sound of his voice.

“hi beautiful. are you well?” the blond sounds a little clearer now and the music seems to have diminished a little. he must have retreated to a ‘quieter’ corner of the club. 

“as well as i can be at home. what about you?”

“i’m great now that i’m with you,” he murmurs, sounding more melancholy than usual, just ever so slightly. you dismiss the shift by blaming it on the alcohol, but there’s a tug at your gut that tells you that the drinks aren’t the sole reason.

you melt a little. “shouldn’t you be dancing or something? why are you calling me?”

“i love calling you,” he whines. “please don’t hang up.”

“if you’re sure… i’m not too sure that a club is the best place to call though.” 

“i don’t care. so long as i’m with you, anything’s fine.”

you huff, tapping your fingers on the counter, trying not to let his sweetened words get to you. “really though, you should be going back to partying and letting loose-”

“do you not like talking to me?” kaiser whispers. you can practically hear the pout in his tone, imagining the way his shoulders slump defeatedly. funny how such a powerful, influential, and unbreakable character can be reduced to nothing in your grasp. 

you couldn’t ever imagine abusing that power though, not when michael kaiser is the one in the centre of your palm. “i do. i love talking to you, i’m just concerned that you’re not using the time wisely.” 

“i’m wise. i’m super wise. right, babe? tell me i’m wise.”

where you would have played with him a little and strung him along with saccharine sarcasm, a small giggle escapes your lips instead. that would be saved for sober kaiser. “you are, you are,” you reassure, suddenly filled with the urge to see him. 

“thanks babe. i love you,” he whimpers. “please say you love me too.”

furrowing your brows at his uncharacteristic display of neediness and constant gratification, you were beginning to grow concerned at his odd behaviour. sure, kaiser loved to be praised for his skills, but there was something wrong about the athlete tonight. you’ve never heard him beg to be complimented like he is tonight, but with the add-ins of alcohol and whatever else, you don’t know whether to flag this or not.

“kaiser, can you give the phone back to ness?” you ask gently.

he whines, “say you love me too!”

“i’m picking you up, kaiser, give the phone back to ness so i can tell him.”

“will i get to see you?”

“if you give the phone back to ness, you will.”

“really? hang on, babe!” 

there’s a bit more rustling, resembling something that sounds like kaiser pushing through a crowd as he holds the phone in his grip, saying ‘move’ to bypassers in his way. after a short conversation that you can’t pick up between the familiar voices of your boyfriend and his best friend, you hear ness’ voice clearly once again. “hey, everything okay?”

“everything’s fine,” you say, having grabbed your keys and a jacket whilst waiting. “i’m driving over to pick kaiser up, hope that doesn’t inconvenience you guys.”  

“not at all. i’ll send you the location of the club. there are 15 minute parking places just outside.”

“thanks ness, i appreciate it.”

“don’t worry. see you soon.” 

“i’ll let you know when i arrive. tell kaiser to wait for me.”

you hang up after that, not waiting for a farewell from the soccer player as you plug your keys into the ignition, the car revving alive. after a 20 or so minute drive to downtown (the lack of traffic at one am made it so much easier to get there faster), you park at the curbside of the street opposite the club, clambering out of your car to lean against the driver’s door, where you could see the club entrance easily.

after shooting a quick text to ness, you wait patiently for the appearance of your beloved boyfriend, hugging your jacket close to your figure. 

six minutes later, you see them; a shorter figure lugging out a taller one over his shoulder with little struggle. regardless of kaiser’s inebriated position, you could recognise his silhouette anywhere, heart picking up a little as you jog over to the club, feet taking you where your heart wanted to go.

“ness!” you call out. 

upon hearing your voice, kaiser’s head shoots up from where it was drooped, scanning the general vicinity of where you were before he spots you. the smile that lights up on his face is instantaneous; a grin that rivals that of the club lights.

“my love!” he exclaims excitedly, stumbling over to you with surprising accuracy for someone who must have drank his body weight in alcohol. immediately, the athlete wraps you up in his arms, the smell of beer invading your senses as kaiser shields you completely from the outside world. “i’m so happy to see you.”

“i’m happy to see you too.”

after a few seconds of relishing in his warmth and (much-appreciated) silence, you take a mini-step away from him; an action the blond clearly did not take well as he groans, manoeuvring himself to now hug you from the side, head resting against yours as you pulls you towards him possessively.

you wave at ness from where you stood, unable to move with the striker clinging onto you. “thank you, ness. i’m sorry for disturbing your night out, you know how kaiser gets,” you say with a laugh, patting your boyfriend on the back.

“no, thank you for taking care of him. i’m glad he has you.”

“and i’m glad he has you too. you should go back inside, i got it from here.”

he nods, waving after a quick farewell before heading back in, disappearing from sight. sighing, you reposition yourself so that it was comfortable to prop him up against you. 

“hey, handsome, you with me?” cupping his face with both of your hands, he nods in your grip, eyes drooping here and there as he stares down at you with unmatched gentleness and love. you add as a light-hearted joke: “you used to be able to party until the clubs close, what happened?”

he grabs your wrists, holding on to them as he speaks, “you still never said ‘i love you’.” 

“oh,” you laugh, letting the sound spill freely. “my bad-”

“-why are you laughing?”

his question shuts you up, catching you off guard as the laughter diminishes like an extinguished match. uncertainty dances within you like smoke, greying the giddy mood you were previously in from being reunited with him. 

looking him square in the eye, you notice something that you’ve never seen him wear before: insecurity. 

kaiser looks so… abashed. sheepish. dismayed. your chest clenches at the sight, a feeling of protectiveness overwhelming you. 

“what do you mean?” you ask cautiously.

“why are you laughing at me?” repeats the athlete.

“oh kaiser,” brushing a strand of hair behind his ears, you see his frown even clearer. “i’m not laughing at you, it wasn’t meant to be mocking, i was laughing because you’re adorable and that you make me happy.”

he huffs, furrowing his brows. “are you sure?”

“of course i am. is everything okay, love?”

no answer. after a moment of simply standing around, you let it go because maybe it was just the alcohol that was making him act this way. you don’t want to think too hard about it. 

“let’s go home,” you whisper, grabbing his hands with yours, intertwining your fingers as you wait for his response.

“okay,” he slurs, nodding compliantly. 

“do you need my help walking?”

“yes,” he drapes himself over you without hesitation, causing you to groan uncomfortably. your question was said majorly as a joke, but kaiser will never let go of an opportunity to be as close to you as possible. 

stumbling back to the car with a half-coherent athlete was difficult but not impossible. unlocking the vehicle, you open the passenger’s door rather easily, shoving him in there with an ‘oof’ from both of you. however, when you tried to pull away, you were met with a chain and lock around your waist, manifested in the form of your overgrown boyfriend who is too liberal with the amount of physical affection he spares.

you place a hand on his shoulder to try and steady yourself from his iron grip. “hey, i need to go to the driver’s seat, can’t you let me go to do that?”

kaiser whines loudly, pulling you even closer. “please don’t make me let go. i don’t want to.”

he was not good for your health. you exhale, slightly perplexed, slightly touched by his devotion. “babe, i’m just going to the driver’s seat. you’ll let me, won’t you?” 

“no. wanna keep you with me. want to love you forever,” his words are muffled into your jacket before the athlete brings his head out of your stomach to look you square in the eye, and the shiny, emotional look in them makes your heart lurch. “please say there’s no one else for you but me.”

grabbing both sides of his face with tender affection, you place a kiss on his nose; an action that causes him to scrunch his nose out of instinct. “you know there will never anyone but you. i love you just as much in kind.”

he sighs, melting against you. the night air nips at your exposed skin but you can’t find it in you to care much.

“so… you don’t think that i’m too much?” the star striker questions and you think you’ve uncovered the root of tonight’s strangeness; the main problem that’s been bothering him.

“a lot? maybe” you whisper and his face falls slightly at your confession, a flash of devastation crossing his features. his expression of ruin is slow to fade so you kiss it off, sealing your lips with his in a gentle meeting of two hearts, hoping to heal his sorrow that was carved from a moment of misunderstanding. 

you pull away from him but the striker continues chasing after your touch.

“but never too much.” 

an exhale of relief leaves him before he straightens up to meet your lips again, hand snaking up to the back of your neck to hold you against him as he tries to communicate all that he feels-  which is everything. 

kaiser loves selectively, but he loves hard, dedicating everything of his that he can until he’s squeezed dry and rendered empty, ready for a refill that he’ll inevitably give away, all to you. 

kaiser’s heart rests in your hands, where it rightfully belongs.

“i love you,” slurs the striker against your lips. “i know i can be a lot but i love you. please never leave me. what is the meaning of life if you’re not there with me?” 

you can’t help wondering about what happened tonight for him to reach such a state of existentialism, but there’s no time to dwell on it now whilst he’s still intoxicated and vulnerable. gently, you hold his jaw so he could look up at you. 

“i might not show it as unabashedly as you do, but please never doubt that i love you. i adore you with my whole being, kaiser, there’s no one else in the world for me like you,” you confess, voice gentle and unwavering. 

he doesn’t let you see the way his eyes mist before closing them and leaning into your touch. “i would do anything for you,” the striker whispers.

“anything, you say?”

he nods.

“then let’s go home and sleep. what do you say, handsome?”

“what a brilliant idea. you’re so smart, my love.”

“thank you but you need to let go of me in order for that to happen.”

he begins wailing in protest.

© 2023 EARTHTOOZ do not plagarise, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites.

[rafedarling]

drew dealing with rustyns tantrums yk when toddler go through that phase 🥹

love this 👶🏻 love seeing tantrum baby vs drew dad

𝐛𝐞𝐝𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞

request: open

pairing: dad!drew starkey x mom!reader

summary: new year’s eve is a night for celebrations, but for drew and you, it’s also a reminder of how challenging bedtime has become with your three-year-old son, rustyn.

warning(s): english is not my native language. toddler tantrums, perenting struggles, firm discipline (not hard or abusive)

au: like, reblog and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @anamiad00msday @stuffyownswrld @httpsdrewstarkey @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @victwrvale @xoxohoneymoongirl @xoxosblogsblog @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @percysley @littlelamy

(love this gif)

New Year’s Eve always been a fun and filled with laughter, music, and the fairy lights strung around the living room. Rustyn, who had been riding a sugar high from earlier snacks and dancing with his parents, was now sprawled on the rug, building a block tower with Drew.

You glanced at the clock: 8:30 PM. Rustyn’s bedtime. It’s always been Rustyn bedtime since he was 1 and you never had a hard time putting him to bed until now

“Rustyn, baby,” you called gently, leaning forward. “It’s bedtime, sweetie.”

Rustyn didn’t even look up.

Drew tried, his tone still calm but a little firmer.

“Come on, bud. You know what time it is time to go to bed.”

Your son continued stacking blocks as if he hadn’t heard a word.

You sighed, standing and walking over to him.

“Do you want Mama or Dada to put you to bed tonight, honey?”

For a moment, Rustyn paused, considering. Drew added, “Mama’s asking you a question, bud. What’s it gonna be?”

Rustyn finally glanced up and answered with a defiant, “No.”

You glanced at Drew, your face falling slightly. Drew caught your look and immediately stood, scooping Rustyn up from the floor despite his protests.

“That’s not how this works, Rusty. It’s bedtime, no arguments,” Drew said, his voice firm but not unkind.

Rustyn immediately began to whine, squirming in Drew’s arms.

“No! no bedtime!”

Drew carried him to his room as you followed a few steps behind, your stomach already twisting at the familiar wails. The moment Drew closed the door to Rustyn’s room, the real tantrum began.

“No, no, no!” Rustyn screamed, his little fists pounding against Drew’s shoulder.

“I don’t want to sleep! I’m not tired!”

Drew sat down on the edge of Rustyn’s bed, holding him firmly but gently in his lap.

“Rustyn,” he said in a low, steady voice, “stop. I need you to calm down.”

Rustyn wailed louder, his little body trembling with frustration.

“No! wanna play!”

You lingered outside the door, listening as Drew handled the meltdown with his signature combination of patience and authority.

“Rusty,” Drew said again, this time softening his tone, “look at me.”

He gently cupped Rustyn’s face in his hands, guiding his tear-streaked eyes to meet his.

“I know you don’t want this fun night to end. I get it and I don’t want it to end either. But you know the rules. It’s bedtime, and your body needs rest.”

Rustyn sniffled but didn’t respond, still glaring at his dad with watery eyes.

“You’re upset,” Drew continued, “but screaming and hitting isn’t how we solve problems, is it?”

Rustyn shook his head slightly, his resolve beginning to crumble.

“Good,” Drew said, brushing a strand of hair out of Rustyn’s face.

“Now, let’s talk about this. Why don’t you want to go to bed?”

Rustyn hesitated before mumbling, “I want stay with Mama. No alone.”

Drew sighed, his features softening even more.

“You’re not alone, bud. Your room is right next to ours. Mama and I are always close by. But we need time to rest too, so we can keep having fun with you tomorrow.”

Rustyn whimpered, burying his face in Drew’s chest.

“But I’m not sleepy…”

“You’re not sleepy now,” Drew acknowledged, rubbing soothing circles on Rustyn’s back, “but if you stay up, you’ll be so tired tomorrow that you won’t want to play. Is that what you want?”

Rustyn shook his head vigorously.

“Okay, then. How about you lie down, and I’ll stay with you for a few minutes until you feel sleepy. Deal?”

Rustyn considered this before nodding slowly.

Drew glanced at you, standing in the doorway, and motioned for you to join them. You stepped inside, sitting beside Drew on the bed. Rustyn reached for you, and you took his small hand in yours.

“You know,” you said softly, “Mama doesn’t like bedtime fights either. It makes me sad to see you so upset, baby.”

Rustyn’s lip quivered. “I’m sorry, Mama.”

Your heart melted.

“It’s okay, sweetie. Just try to be a good boy for Dada, okay? He’s only trying to help you.”

Rustyn nodded, leaning against Drew as his eyelids began to droop. Drew laid him down gently, pulling the blankets up around him.

“Goodnight, buddy,” Drew said, pressing a kiss to Rustyn’s forehead.

“Night night, Dada. Night night, Mama,” Rustyn murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

As the two of you stepped out of the room and closed the door, you let out a deep breath.

“See?” Drew said with a small smile. “Easy.”

You gave him a look.

“Easy? He was screaming like we were torturing him five minutes ago!”

Drew chuckled, pulling you into his arms.

“Okay, maybe not easy. But he’s learning. He just needs consistency. And a little tough love.”

“You’re so good with him,” you admitted, resting your head on his chest. “I don’t know how you stay so calm.”

“It’s because I’ve got you,” Drew said, kissing the top of your head.

“We’re a team, and Rustyn’s lucky to have us.”

[bokunoheros]

TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, katsuki/reader are friends w/ benefits, they are not officially dating, pro hero!katsuki, hickies/bruises/mentions of burn marks, swearing, orgasm denial, inappropriate quirk usage, katsuki’s bad at feelings, katsuki is unreasonably jealous, erm.. light?? blood kink, it’s soft at the end though, happy kinktober everyone GENRE: SMUT & FLUFF SUMMARY: katsuki doesn’t approve of the way shouto was looking at you—even though you’re both single and he has no real claim over you. WORD COUNT: 2.7K 🦊’s A/N: i can’t believe i’m the opening act but here we are; i rlly hope you guys enjoy what we have lined up for y’all :3

     katsuki bakugou is mean and rude, possessive and somewhat controlling, and an arrogant bitch. whatever he wanted, he got; whenever something was his, everybody would be sure to know it. this, of course, translated a little too naturally into his sex life. 

     and when it came to you? god have mercy.

     “shit–! katsuki!” you whine as he bites cruelly at the tender skin of your inner thighs before sucking over the spot, making sure his teeth grazed over the sensitive, heated flesh. 

     “huh?” though on the quieter side, his voice was just as gruff as it always was. 

     “please—!” is all you’re able to breath out as the large, calloused hands forcing your legs apart begin to spark, and—ow! fuck! “katsu! what the fuck is wrong with you!?” 

     “tch, like you don’t know,” he scoffs and rolls his eyes. surely you were just playing dumb. there was no way you didn’t know what the fucking problem was. he thinks back to your little conversation with shouto earlier—where that icyhot bastard practically eyefucked you the entire time (he had not, actually; it was just katsuki’s awful, Awful jealousy and insecurities flaring up despite you two not even being an item). 

     all you knew, though, was that he had been like this all damn night! biting you all over your flushed body — absolutely nowhere was safe from his teeth; your neck and throat, chest and midriff—hell, he even managed to leave hickies along your ribcage for christ’s sake!—and now, he was working on your thighs. 

     but if all that wasn’t already enough, his hands had occupied your hips most of the time as his quirk popped off repeatedly as his grip only tightened, not only leaving bruises in the shape of his fingertips, but also scorch marks on the flares of your hips. 

     “i don’t!” you protest in vain. in your mind, your conversation with shouto hadn’t crossed your mind—so the idea that katuski might be jealous? didn’t even register. 

     “yeah, right,” he barks out a laugh before diving back between your legs, burying his face into the fat of your thighs, where he sucked at the horribly sensitive skin there. and when you tried to close your legs around his head? he used his fucking quirk to keep them spread!

     his sweaty palms had no problem with igniting small scale explosions against your heated and tender flesh, leaving behind little burn marks in their wake.

     “god—dammit, katsuki!” you wail as his mouth gets dangerously close to your cunt, just to avoid it all together. “please—just! what's wrong?!” it's all you can do to choke back frustrated tears as your fuck buddy goes about leaving his physical claim on you—while leaving you all hot and bothered in the process. 

     “nothing's wrong, bitch—” his voice is strained and he sounds…… almost emotional? oh shit, was something seriously the matter? 

     in attempt to check up on him, one of your hands comes up to tug lightly at his spiky hair so he’ll look at you, but instead, he snatches your wrist up tightly, so hard you swear there’ll be bruises soon, as he looks up at you with narrowed, fiery eyes—they seemed…. glossier than they typically were; not that he looked like he was on the verge of tears or anything, but more so that he looked visibly distraught. 

     “keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself,” he spits out, his significantly larger hand sparking and popping around your poor wrist, and you can’t help but let out a yelp. 

     your faux concern was starting to piss katsuki off, and he physically can’t help the way his brows twitch and furrow in anger. there was no way you were really this dumb? (hey, einstein, maybe just, and here's an idea: tell them directly!) with a snarl, he bares his teeth (like a goddamn dog) and bites down harshly against the skin of your upper inner thigh, and he only bites down harder when you squeal and yell out his name, trying to free your wrist from his bruisingly tight grip. 

     in a desperate attempt to get him to calm down, you meekly choke out an apology—you didn’t know what you were sorry for, but you prayed it would be enough for bakugou to quit seething and just focus on something other than his anger.

     “‘ll show you sorry,” he grunts, picking a new spot on the fatty flesh of your thighs to bite down on—this time, a few tears manage to slide down your cheeks as he bites so hard, you swear to god you felt the skin tear. 

     “ow–! katsu–ki! jesus christ!” your free hand now comes down to try and push his head away from in between your legs as you squirm uncomfortably on the bed. your efforts are in vain, however, as he begins sucking against the freshly marred skin, sloppily laving his tongue over the spot so he could lick up the blood he had, in fact, drawn. “‘m sorry—whatever i did, i'm sorry!” you cry out pathetically, causing katsuki to pause in his actions as his eyes flit upwards to meet your glassy ones.

     “that's funny, you don't look very sorry,” he comments gruffly, the hand still placed on your thigh suddenly begins to pop off and spark against your reddened flesh.

     “nngh–! fuck’s sake! what has gotten into you!?”  

     “nothing, i told you already,” he grunts out, the corner of his lips twitching in annoyance as he looks up at you, and suddenly humping the mattress while he lays between your thighs isn’t enough for him. 

     before you have time to question him again, he had already moved so he was hovering over you as he had been at the beginning of your little rendezvous, and after releasing your wrist, he uses one hand to support himself while the other tugs his all too tight boxer briefs down enough for his almost painfully hard cock to spring free. and in one swift movement, he gathers both your wrists in one large hand before pinning them above your head while his free hand grabs his dick to line it up with your embarrassingly wet slit, barely getting the tip in before he just has to bottom out entirely—right up to the base as he lets out a groan louder than he’d meant to. it wasn’t like it was his fault, though! you just felt soooo good; how was he supposed to keep his cool? (not that he kept it in any other aspect of his life……)

     “aa–aah! nngh–! fuck! katsuki! you—mmfgh!” your words are cut off by a kiss, however, and your eyes widen at the sudden feeling of his slightly chapped lips against yours and your wrists struggle in his horribly tight grip, unsure of how to react — you had both agreed on no kissing when originally setting up boundaries during sex! truthfully, you didn’t think it would have lasted as long as it had — as you had almost kissed him several times prior, but always caught yourself before you had the chance to make a fool out of yourself — but you never would have thought katsuki would be the one to break that rule! ?!?!

     arching your back as he begins to thrust his hips, slowly at first, before quickly picking up the pace, you reluctantly give in to the kiss as your chest presses against his. 

     katsuki, meanwhile, was buzzing with too many unfamiliar emotions to process — it wasn’t that he was a simple man per se, far from it, in fact, but his primary emotion was anger, and was one of the few ways he knew how to express himself. now, though, he finds himself in highly unfamiliar territory as his heart hammers in his chest; the last time he had been this genuinely scared was the time he had been kidnapped by the league of villains, and even then, he thinks he prefers it to the way he felt right now. the fear of rejection absolutely plagued his mind the moment his lips had crashed against yours, but it was way too fuckin’ late to change that now, so instead, he doubles down and allows his tongue to slip out and slide over the seam of your lips before he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth and nips at it hard enough to draw the smallest bit of blood. 

     “nngh–!” you had no clue what the hell was wrong with katsuki until he reluctantly pulls away from the kiss and, for the first time in. …? as long as you can recall, he looks so…… vulnerable, like he was scared (and he was!), and for some reason, that just broke your heart.

    “just talk to me, katsuki,” you say softly, tongue flicking over your slightly bloody lip as you look up at him through thick, tear-dampened eyelashes. before you two were fuck buddies, you had managed to become good friends; given, the dynamic was a bit odd, as bakugou was not known for being a “friendly” person, let alone perceived as sociable, but. here he was! balls deep in his best friend, whom he wanted all to himself without even realizing until, well, just now, really.

     “i don’t want you talking to that icyhot bastard ever again,” he finally spits out, voice nearly cracking. he keeps his shit together, though, as he continues to fuck you like he hates your guts. “you’re mine, got it?” his cheeks are flushed red (a rare sight) as he pants heavily from on top of you, embarrassed by his own words, even though you obviously needed to hear them in order to remember who you belong to. …even though the two of you never disclosed the other couldn’t fuck anyone else; even though you were fully free to decide who you wanted to suck, lick, n fuck, katsuki hopes—silently prays, even—that you’d decide he was the only one you needed. 

     “what?” your eyes fly open at his words and your body freezes beneath him. “ka–katsuki, ‘m not yours—” he feels his heart shatter into a million pieces before you’re even done speaking, and he has to bite his tongue from lashing out. “we’re not even dating! y–you can’t be possessive over s–somethin’ that’s not— not even yours!” you try to reprimand him until you see the look that came over his face—the way his pouty lips tug into a deep frown and brows furrowed lightly, not out of anger but, rather, confusion—and suddenly you can’t bring yourself to scold him anymore. seeing katsuki, someone usually so outwardly hardened and tough, look this pitiful….. well, it made your heart ache, and your own expression softens as his pace subconsciously slows down as he waits with bated breath until you’re done talking.

     “oh, katsuki,” you sigh deeply, rolling your hips gently upwards to meet his as you look up at him with watery eyes. “you’re such an idiot,” you can’t help but giggle as you crane your head upwards in an attempt to kiss him once again — what the unfortunate blond hadn’t realized is that you had been in love with him within the first year of knowing him. 

     “huh?!” is his immediate response before you had leaned in for a kiss, and suddenly the dots click. he easily closes the distance between the two of you (not that there was much to begin with), and kisses you a little more softly this time, a little less angrily. 

     after a very heated moment, katsuki slowly pulls away and looks at you sincerely — his heart not quite on his sleeve, but as close to that as he’s ever been, ready to shut down at the first sight of genuine rejection; but before he gets the chance to stew on the thought any harder, you break him out of his headspace by saying exactly what he needed to hear.

     “there’s nothing going on between shouto and i—in fact, i haven’t even dated anyone in years because of you,” you tell him, wrists straining against his grip again and, this time, he gets the cue and gently releases them so you can tenderly cup his face and bring him in for another kiss. carefully moving your lips against his, you moan softly, asking for him to start fucking you again, and he happily obliges, with a renewed confidence at your admission. 

     katsuki really does feel like an idiot as his hips roll against yours, fucking you with a different kind of resolve this time.

     “‘ve been in love with you since our second year of high school,” you confess, a little quietly. it doesn’t go unheard by katsuki, however, and a smirk stretches across his face as he quirks an eyebrow up at you. you two had only started hooking up once he had gone pro and desperately needed an outlet for his stress.

     bakugou finds himself rendered speechless for once in his loud-mouthed life and he isn’t quite sure how to process your words. he believed you, mostly, but……. it was just very difficult to believe because….. well, why wouldn’t you want todoroki over him? it seems like the obvious choice, no? and yet…. here the two of you are, bodies sweaty and entwined as you both pant in attempt to catch your breaths, and you move to wrap your arms around his neck when you notice that faraway look in his eyes coming back—falling victim to his own mind once more.

     “‘m serious, kats,” you say sternly, brows furrowing as you move your sore legs to wrap around his narrow waist, crossing them at the ankle and pull his hips flush against yours. “mmh,” your heart is hammering at what you’re about to say, but you’ve already come this far. “i love you, katsuki bakugou,” you say softly, threading your fingers through his unnaturally spiky blond locks as you look up at him with hazy, half-lidded eyes.

     katsuki’s eyes widen considerably at your words, and instead of bringing himself to choke out an i love you too, he kisses you deeply and shallowly thrusts his hips against yours as his tongue easily slides into your already parted lips, already having prepared yourself to not receive a verbal answer from katsuki. you knew he was absolutely god fucking awful at words, and you didn’t exactly expect him to reciprocate your feelings.

     in your mind, he only picked you as his fuck buddy because he had known you too long and he wasn’t the type to fuck strangers, when in reality it was because katsuki was disgustingly in love with you, not that he had realized that prior to now—your words had awoken something in him and it feels so unfamiliar, and the unfamiliarity is what causes him to almost fumble you—almost, he has enough sense about him to mumble the quietest, raspiest, aggressive i guess i love…. he chokes on the word itself, never actually having had said it before—ever?—but manages to spit it the fuck out so he doesn’t lose the best friend—and pussy—he’s ever had. he sounds confused when he says finally manages to say an i love you, too but the fact that he even brought himself to say something so inherently soft and vulnerable (even if his tone wasn’t) cause your eyes to fly open in raw shock and disbelief, fully unable to believe your ears. 

     “you—you do?” no. there was no way he had just said that!

     “don’t make a big deal out of it, and don’t expect to f'me to say it again anytime soon, y’hear?” he replies, face beet fuckin’ red, blush having spread all the way up to his ears as he moves to bury his face in the crook of your neck to hide it away from your view, where he began to nip and suck at the skin there again, only adding to the collection of hickies he had already left. ah, there’s the katsuki you fell in love with.

     you smile at his words regardless of how gruff he sounded about it, heart (and cunt) so, so full and content, your grin stretching across your face until your cheeks hurt, and you can’t help but giggle quietly as he continues to mark you up, hips moving slowly, but each thrust hitting deep, the thick tip of his dick threatening to kiss up against your cervix if he went any deeper. 

     you would have to have a discussion with him about what you two were after this, but for now, you arch your back and close your eyes as you enjoy the feel of his lips against your skin and the way his thick cock stretches you out so deliciously.

return to KINKTOBER | K. BAKUGOU M.LIST

[sturniolohouse]

That's Life - M.S

A.N: After the stream where Matt said he liked the name June– which has been a name on my baby list for YEARS now – I couldn't stop thinking about this scenario, so I decided to write it. Sorry if it's bad. (I'd also say they are still very young in this, maybe 23/24. But imagine any age you want, I don't really specify.) Hope you enjoy!

summary: dad!matt - a cute snippet of Matt and y/n becoming brand new parents and Chris and Nick meeting their niece for the first time. mainly fluff :')

warnings: none, really. maybe swearing and mentions of blood? (also use of y/n because apparently that is hated? idk)

word count: 2.4k

"Kid, hold her fucking neck." Matt panics as Chris readjusts in his seat on the couch.

"Matt shut the fuck up, I think I know how to hold my own niece." he retorts.

"No, you clearly don't you idiot."

I peer to my left, he holds her with one hand under her head and one hand under her butt, propping her in front of him on his lap. She's perfectly fine, Matt just worries.

"Look she's fine. She's with uncle Chris." Chris looks at her adoringly but Matt cautiously watches, biting his nails.

"How are you feeling?" Nick asks beside me, rubbing my shoulder as I eat my burger. I was starving and the first thing I wanted after giving birth was In and Out, so Matt made sure Nick and Chris brought it for me.

"I'm so tired but just relieved everything went okay."

It was a long labor, almost 20 hours and about an hour of pushing. I waited to the very last minute to get an epidural and Matt almost passed out once he saw what it actually was.

-

"That goes in your fucking spine?" He squeaks, his face turning pale as he nearly keels over.

I'm sat up with the anesthesiologist behind me prepping the needle. I grab Matt's forearms and bring him to stand between my legs so he's hunching in front of me before I collapse my head into his chest and groan.

"Don't fucking look at it, hold my hands." I seethe through the pain as I wait for the contraction to pass.

"I'm so sorry," He says into my ear as they stick the catheter into my spine and I stay as still as possible.

"I want In and Out after this is all over," I breath out, beginning to feel my lower half go numb.

"I'm getting you whatever you fucking want, sweetheart." He looks me dead in the eyes.

-

"It's kinda fucking nuts that she was just inside you, how the fuck did you like..." Chris speaks up looking between the baby and me. "Push her out..." He hesitates and I burst out laughing as Matt throws his arms up and shakes his head at him, stopping himself from knocking Chris' shoulder.

"Well, it wasn't easy." I wipe my tears from my eyes due to my laughter and Nick gives me my water so I don't choke on my dry ass fries.

"Women are the strongest people on the planet." Nick chimes and Matt smiles proudly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"That's fucking right. So much respect after all I witnessed." Matt rubs his eyes, seeming to be mentally reflecting the past 36 hours.

"She's so fucking cute, looks nothing like Matt." Chris comments, a small smirk growing on his face at the playful jab.

"Okay, give her back you're pissing me off." Matt quickly but gently takes her back even as Chris protests and pouts, sulking back into his chair.

"Lost your baby holding privileges," Nick points at him as Chris makes a face and sticks his tongue out, a throaty bellow echoing in the hospital room.

Nick immediately hushes him. "Can you not act like a barbarian? Fucking idiot." He scolds him.

Matt cradles her softly and my heart still melts at the sight of him holding her. It makes everything I went through so worth it. The both of them do.

-

I lay there in shock with a wailing baby placed on my chest. I look up at Matt on my left and he's got his hand over his mouth and tears brimming his eyes, staring at our baby with so much love.

My chest blooms with warmth and I look down at our daughter. Anyone else would look at her and think she was gross, being purple, covered in goop and blood, but she was quite literally breathtaking. Matt blubbers and bends down so he's more level to me.

"Oh my fucking god," he laughs through his emotion, wiping his eyes quickly and placing a hand on her blanketed back, her cries dying down.

"How the fuck did you do that? You're amazing oh my god." He rambles, kissing my sweaty hairline and I shake my head not really knowing how I did this either.

They let Matt cut the umbilical cord before taking her off me to bathe her quickly.

Matt grabs my face checking in on me. He scans all over my face,"You okay? You did so good, oh my fucking god." I nod quickly, feeling my adrenaline still rushing. It's a weird feeling to describe, but I am so happy.

"She was so tiny, did you see her?" I ask him, my voice a little shaky and he nods laughing, tears still shining in his eyes.

"I did, I did. She's perfect. Thank you." He kisses my lips this time and then looks over to the nurses bringing her over to him.

"You want to hold her, dad?" The nurse smiles and he visibly pales but nods nonetheless and takes her into his arms.

He looks at her and begins to tear up again, having to compose himself by looking up shaking his head. When he looks back at me, I'm sent me over the edge into my own fit of tears.

I would relive this day over and over again to just see that look on his face.

-

He walks over to Nick who's still beside me, bouncing her slightly.

"Nick, cmon. You've yet to hold her." Matt nods toward Nick to take her from his arms. Nick immediately shakes his head and steps back.

"No she's too fresh and tiny. I don't want to break her." He declines.

"Chris get him the pillow. Nick, hold her. You won't break her I promise you." I give him a reassuring rub on the arm and his eyes widen.

"I'm scared," He squeals quietly as he sits down in the chair and Chris sets up the pillow in his lap. Nick covers his mouth as he watches Matt walk over to him. 

Chris puts a hand on his shoulder, "Nick it's gonna be fine." He giggles at his antics and I stifle my own laughter.

"Dude c'mon, I'm telling you to hold my kid not a bomb." Matt rolls his eyes and Nick flips him off.

Matt places her carefully so she's snug in Nick's arms and he freezes immediately.

"What do I do?" He looks up at me in fear.

"Just that. You're doing fine. See, she's perfectly content in your arms." I tell him softly and grab Matt's arm so he stands next to me.

I kiss his forearm and he looks back at me with a warm smile, wrapping his arm around me and sitting beside me on the bed. He pulls me in gently before kissing the top of my head.

"I'm trying to see any real defining features in her but she quite literally just looks like a baby," he studies her face as Chris takes photos of them.

"She definitely looks more like y/n," Matt says, rubbing my arm lightly before stealing one of my fries from my tray.

"I think she has my nose for sure. She hasn't really opened her eyes yet, maybe you can try and wake her up. The nurse should be coming soon to help me feed her."

"I just realized, what's her name?" Nick asks, lightly rubbing her cheek with the back of his finger to try and wake her.

"Yeah, have you guys finally decided?" Chris sits down next to Nick on the couch.

Matt and I look at each other. We had been debating her name since we first saw her face. Of course we had a list prepared but we didn't want to settle on a name until we could match it to her face.

It was hard agreeing on names at first as we had very different tastes but there was one that kept coming back up in conversation and once we saw her it was a no brainer.

I nudge Matt, "Go ahead, tell them." I lean my head against his shoulder.

"Her name is June," They 'aw' in unison.

"June Iris Sturniolo." Matt tells them her full name and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face. 

"I love that, such a sweet name.” Nick smiles down at her.

"Does it have a meaning? Or did you guys just like the name?" Chris pulls back her hat.

"Holy shit, she has a lot of hair." he comments.

"Explains all of my heartburn." I huff and Matt giggles beside me.

"We liked the name and we were looking at lot of nature names, month names, classic names. We landed on June a few times when going over names but didn't want to make it official until we saw her." I start and Matt nods before speaking up.

"Well, we had some music playing during the whole labor and everything but after Y/N started pushing, our playlist ended and started playing whatever. And right before June came out, the song That's Life by Frank Sinatra played. And in the song, there's a line that goes: You're riding high in April, shot down in May but I know I'm gonna change that tune when I'm back on top, back on top in June. Right when we heard that and then we saw her face, we knew that was her name." Matt concluded and I tear up.

"That's so fucking cool," 

"Stop I have chills, oh my god."

"And Iris was my grandmothers name, but we also liked how it sounded with June. It was proven really hard to find a middle name that sounded good with June and Sturniolo." I laugh.

“I love that her name has a cool story behind it that you can tell her one day.” Nick says and I get emotional thinking about telling my daughter the day of her birth.

"Hi June, you gonna wake up for us?" Chris speaks softly to her. She stays put as Nick and Chris look at her expectantly.

"I wouldn't want to open my eyes either if I were just in a a warm dark place for almost nine months and all of sudden I'm in a bright ass hospital room with a loud idiot." Matt speaks looking directly at Chris.

"She must take that after you," I say playfully and rub his chest. He rolls his eyes.

"Aw, a little Mattitude." Chris uses a baby voice, tickling her belly playfully. “Look she even makes Matt’s stank face he does when he’s mad.” He points.

“Oh my god she does,” Nick exclaims.

"Not to be weird, but you are all basically her father since you have identical DNA. Also if you guys have children one day, they'll be genetically June's half-siblings." I state my fun fact and all their faces drop.

Nick gasps, "Wait, that's actually crazy because I was just going to joke around and say 'aw she has my eye-bags'." His eyes widen and I shrug at him proving my point.

"That's so fucking weird." Matt shakes his head in realization.

Chris acts repulsed, putting a hand up. "Yeah, I don't like thinking about that. I'm no one's father, thank God." He does the sign of the cross.

"Yes. Thank God for that." Matt says shortly.

"I don't know, I think Chris will be a good dad one day." I defend him and Matt gives the side eye. 

"Thank you y/n," He says with a hand over his heart.

He walks over to me and gives me a side hug. I kiss his cheek, offering him a fry and he takes it appreciatively.

"I'm definitely staying the fun uncle." Nick states, turning his attention back to June. "One day, you'll be big enough to stay at Uncle Nick's and I'll get you anything you want without your parents knowing," he says quietly to her but we can all still hear him.

She begins to stir in his arms and he freezes again.

"Oh no, she's waking up. Is she gonna cry?" he panics. "Matt quick, take her."

"She might want the boob," he says taking June out of Nick's hold.

She begins to fuss and squirm but Matt calmly shushes her and begins to bounce lightly.

"It's her feeding time in 15 minutes, should I try without the nurse?" I look up at Matt and he shrugs.

"I don't see why not. She's clearly hungry now."

"Uh, should we leave?" Chris says awkwardly and I wave him off.

"I'm gonna cover myself don't worry. Unless you want to leave," I say nonchalantly, not having a care in the world after just about everyone in this hospital has seen me naked. But of course I won't be flashing anyone.

"Junie don't cry, here's mama. She's got the food." Matt tells her quietly, bringing her to me as Chris clears my lap for me and goes to sit down next to Nick again.

"My baby," I pout as I grab her and her little cries die down once she's in my arms. "You already know the deal sister, let's see if we can do this." I talk to her confidently hoping I can do this on my own.

Matt stands beside helping me cover up and get June in the right position.

"There you go, all better." Matt speaks to her softly as she latches on and I exhale in relief. "Good job, mama." He runs his fingers through my hair and rubs my neck.

The nurse walks in mid-feed and praises me. "Looks like you've got it under control here." She smiles and checks my vitals quickly before stepping back out of the room.

Once June finishes eating I burp her upright on my lap, facing her towards everyone. At this point she's wide awake and everyone is staring at her.

"Oh my gosh, her eyes are like, gray," Nick says. 

"Can she see me?" Chris waves at her, shaking his head and sticking his tongue out.

"Her eyes will most likely change color, they can change up until she's a year." I tell them. "And she can probably see you as a blob, Chris. Stop dancing." I tell him and he stops mid griddy. 

"Oh..." He looks defeated and she burps loudly in that moment, making him laugh. "Why does she burp louder than me, she's like 12 hours old." he jokes.

I feel Matt's hand on my shoulder again and he gives me another squeeze. I look up at him and smile tiredly, he leans down to give me a kiss. Something we rarely do in front of others because we hate PDA. But we can't help it this time.

 I hear a snap of a camera and we both look to see Nick with his film camera.

"I couldn't resist. First family portrait." he smiles softly. "I can't believe you're a father, Matthew."

"Believe it, kid."

"Nick, will you actually take our family photos when we get home." I ask rubbing Junie's back. 

"The fact that you even asked that," he says looking offended and everyone laughs. "Of course I will, though."

[cosycafune]

I'LL GET YOU PREGNANT!

3.7k words. satoru has a natural way of repelling your ex; he wants to fill your womb with his baby. he hates knowing he's shared you in the past, so he wants to claim you. right now, he wants nothing more than to fill your womb -- scaring away your stalker ex, suguru geto.

a synopsis of acts: creampies, breeding kink, rough sex, spanking, unprotected sex, teasing, head, nipple play, nipple biting, lactation kink, missionary, slight choking, slightly mean satoru, stalking, reassurance and marginally more.

"Sato', Suguru won't stop calling me!" Slightly irritated, you voice your thoughts to an intrigued Satoru -- observing a mischievous smile adorning his lips.

"How many numbers does he have?!" Bellowing, Satoru casts himself into cuddling your chest further -- contently pulling from your sucked-dry nipple.

"I don't know, Sato', but i don't know what to do for him to leave me alone," Running your fingers through Satoru's headbanded hair, you softly groan at him beginning to latch upon your nipple once more.

"I have an idea, but only if you're okay with it," Suggesting something so smugly, comfortably biting down upon your nipple, Satoru's eyes gleam at your subtle wincing.

Idea, huh?

"How about we make a film?" Halting at Satoru's lewd question, he poses himself into leaving your almost bare lap.

"A sex tape for...him?" Pouting, sitting upon your wavering knees, you question a mischievous Satoru. Dishevelled, Satoru lovingly spots one of his fangs -- his cerulean eyes clouded with lust.

"Yeah, I'll stuff you so fucking good, he'll only think of me when he sees you," Grunting, visibly flaunting his prominent erection, Satoru's proposal comes out in a strained manner.

"Tell me more," Teasing a flustered Satoru, you puff out your cheeks, pressing your ample breasts together -- flaunting Satoru's ropes of saliva sliding down their tauntness.

"Fuck! 'Can't I just show you? You're being mean," Whining, messily drawing nearer to you, Satoru abruptly burrows his fingers into your supple hips.

"Of course, you cry baby," Elegantly speaking, you cast yourself into glancing up at a towering Satoru -- gasping at his deft finger burrowing into your doughy bum.

Shit, you knew he'd ruin everything you have to create that damn film. Hm, perhaps he'd get you pregnant?

"Don't cry when it's too much," Warning you, Satoru hungrily licks his fang -- his eyes lowering in an overwhelming trance of yearning.

"Go your hardest," Flustered at your proposal, you vigorously batter your eyelashes -- your lips stammering at him harshly fondling your breast.

"'Can't wait to break you, little lady," Enthralled, Satoru's thundering heartbeat paired with his statement -- leading his steering fingers to further squeeze your love bite-invested breasts.

"C'mon, show me how you'll make a film, film maker," Further egging Satoru on, he greedily tightens his hold upon your nimble hips -- journeying towards your shared bed.

"Let's do it on your phone," Satoru eagerly mumbles, roughly settling you upon the plush bed.

“Whatever you want!” Unable to protest against Satoru’s advances, you whine at his ample fingers further lifting your parted shirt. His shirt that he comfortably piles upon a gentle you.

“So obedient,” Drawing your bucking hips nearer, Satoru retorts — basking in your realms of desperation.

“P-Please,” A wailing mess, you’re incapable of resisting Satoru’s gruff fingers taunting your nipple — skimming over the beauty of it.

“Nah, let me get your phone first,” Barely shifting from a partially exposed you, Satoru’s announcement ruffles your abdomen.

“‘Just gonna leave me here?” Neediness adorns your question as you greet his gaze, squishing your massive breasts together — arching at the sensitivity.

“Don’t start something you’ll regret,” Cocikly speaking, Satoru intakes your primal urges, pushing himself further pressing against you.

Calculated, Satoru casts himself into reaching over you — grasping your phone beside your plush pillow. Rather embarrassed, you insincerely push yourself into attempting to steal your phone away from him — only for him to designate a hand of his over both of your own.

“Got you,” Rough, untimed growls free themselves from Satoru’s gentle lips — leading to him drifting his curled lips nearer to your own.

“Hgh!” Gasping at Satoru’s swiftness, you arch mercilessly at Satoru drifting his glossy lips towards the curve of your ear — biting down contently.

“Now, let me put the phone up before I get too carried away,” Contently cooing, Satoru lovingly gazes at your fluffy wallpaper with him — swiping right to access your camera.

“Baby, you sure you wanna film this?” Smitten, Satoru’s tender inquiry vibrates within your ears — all whilst he settles your phone against your cosy nightstand.

“Shit, do whatever you wanna do to me,” Crumpled beneath a persistent Satoru, you mutter helplessly. Arched perfectly, Satoru basks within your arising breasts — strapping your toned legs around his sculpted hips.

“Anything?” Enamoured, Satoru’s questioned disbelief is illuminated through his shimmering eyes.

“Anything.” Consoling Satoru, Satoru callously grunts at your spilling breasts — darting towards them before streaking his covetous lips closer.

“Again, Sato’?” Questioning Satoru, you hazily glance at him. The momentum of your physique is trapped and warmed at his impeccable, caging warmth.

“Be happy that I haven’t gotten you pregnant yet,” Teasing you, Satoru’s words slur narrowly while his lips brush upon your perky nipple, “‘Would have sucked all the milk out of them.” Gasping, incapable of suppressing the thudding between your rutting, thunderous cunt, your lips part.

“Oh, Sato’,” Lovestruck, you cutely coo. Your admiring eyes are adhered with an undeniable array of thumping hearts.

“Speak,” Prominent roughness fills Satoru’s possessive command. Unwilling to soften heavily, Satoru curiously twirls your nipple between his teeth — his sadistic eyes cruel with desire.

“‘Let you suck all the milk out of them! Ah,” Whining, arching busily, your confession is followed up with Satoru harshly biting your taut nipple.

“Would you now?” Taunting you, Satoru mellowly draws back from caging you — glancing at your physique from the camera’s perspective.

“Anyway,” Pouty, the tension within your tone dissolves at Satoru latching upon your aching nipple — soothing the wicked discomfort he enabled.

“Baby, at least smile for the camera,” Mockingly placing his vast, veiny hands against your supple cheeks, Satoru squeezes them while he patronisingly speaks.

“C-Can’t smile, haven’t made you feel good, yet,” Pleading to at least give Satoru blissful head, you flutter your lashes before him — frowning with impatience.

“Good, huh?” Commenting on your hushed, indirect request, Satoru uses his thick thumb to softly pry open your lips — observing the lewd sound fall from them.

“Mhm,” Silenced voluntarily by Satoru, you obediently reign your tongue upon his finger — arising an ounce of sexual control.

“Hm? You wanna do that to my cock? Take it like you’re taking my thumb?” Groaning, boyishly grinning, questioning you, an overpowering smile floods Satoru’s careless lips.

Mewling while Satoru shoves his large thumb further into your mouth, you allow your eyes to swirl with his own. Naturally, you're sure to not embarrassingly choke. Longing for advanced bodily contact, you gently grind your hips upon his crotch — bubbles forming against your lips as you frantically suck.

“Mhm,” Moaning with sinful yearning, you’re unwilling to halt the pacing of your hips — consumed by Satoru’s gruff whimpers staining your ears.

“You’re being disobedient, my love,” Satoru’s statement is filled with an edge of threat, leading you to continue your streak of disobedience — longing for a punishment.

“Mmh!” Ruffled with a string of irritation, Satoru deprives your lips of his thumb — tempted by the lewd, gasping you free.

“D’ya really think you have control now?” Grinning sadistically, Satoru softly grasps your hips — contorting you, so you are directly on all fours.

“Yeah,” Provoking Satoru broadly, you naively wobble your bubble butt — squealing at Satoru’s fingers wandering against the jiggly, tasty surface.

“Wouldn’t want your ex to see you so disobedient, my love,” Purring within the shell of your ear, Satoru erases any sense of space between you both — harshly grinding his monstrous erection against the outline of your chubby cunt.

“‘Need you, though,” Countering Satoru, your lips stammer. Blanketed with control, Satoru contorts his free hand into grasping your breast from beneath.

“Be a good girl and wait,” Satoru’s tone vibrates against your arched back, only before he abruptly pulls back from a moaning you — droning with craving.

“‘Can’t be gooddd—” Lewdly whining with dragged-out sentences, you attempt to fuel your deprivation with the vacant air.

However, shifting your curved hips with determination, you softly whimper at the cool air tinting your bubble butt. Dazed within your heated trance, you loudly gasp and curl inwards while Satoru harshly spanks your vulnerable skin. Biting back your distorted pleasure, your fists curl swiftly — lust loitering so artlessly in you.

“Fuck, Sato’!” Bellowing gleefully, unable to contain your smile, you readily arch yourself — waiting for his stout fingers to abuse your obedient butt.

Shit, he loved the sight! The scattered element of your mind and pounding heart lulled him, with it helplessly placed for him. Viewing you, sexually frustrated, your frilly underwear strained between your dripping folds, swaying back and forth, stole away his self-restraint. Yet, for your sex tape to be lengthy, Satoru knew he would have to cunningly deprive desperate you.

“‘Need you to ride my face, you’ve earned it,” Rewarding you with one last harsh spank, Satoru spews his ironic statement — running his fingers against your thin underwear strip.

“Yes!” Desperation swirls within your gasping tone, pushing you into gathering a slither of obedience.

“I dangle pleasure in front of you and you act like this?” Softly chuckling, Satoru’s question is disregarded by a buzzing you. You who’s mentally conquered by his presence beginning to lay before you.

“Of course,” Breathless with your sexual craving, you admire Satoru’s eyes, watching your strained features inching closer to him — trembling with anticipation.

“You’re so cute,” Satoru voices his precious fondness for you, enamoured by your limbs crawling enough to settle upon his prodding crotch.

“Thanks, Sato’,” A curl of vulnerability blankets your speech, pushing you into descending lower — longing to capture Satoru’s lips.

Carved by adoration, you softly disregard Satoru’s vast shirt that you sport — comfortably bearing your lithe skin before his eyes. Hypnosis endows an enthralled Satoru, restricting his breaths whilst you lower your head — in hopes of greeting his swole lips. Nonetheless, he took the scarce time to admire your angelic curves, your contoured abs, the ample mountains your breasts imitate, and the adorable nervousness you flaunt before him.

“‘Just for me,” Coddling this known fact, Satoru mutters about how you’re all his — nurturing this truth within his mind.

“I’m all yours, Sato’,” Adjusting yourself upon Satoru’s crotch, you admit your heart — content towards your breasts smashing against his nude chest.

“I’m grateful,” Fluffed with glee, Satoru returns your amount of gratitude — moulding his thick fingers around the curve of your jaw.

“C’mere,” Possessive, Satoru softly commands you — pressing his lips upon your own.

“Mhm,” Moaning frantically, shifting slyly, you groan at Satoru grasping at your ass cheeks — snapping your underwear band upon the doughy surface.

“‘You like that?” Teasing you, Satoru sculpts his free hand into pulling down your underwear — listening to the slickness of it.

“All of it,” Nodding frantically through your approval, you fall into Satoru’s rhythm — allowing him to disregard your drenched underwear.

“Let’s see how you like this,” Satoru says, mischief adorning his demeanour.

Thrilled, drilled into with patience, Satoru gestures for you to shift higher up. Beaming, licking his enchanted lips, Satoru’s eyes soften towards you nervously drifting your pooling cunt further up his burly chest. Everything within him could sense the apprehension that consumes you, rooted in you knowing you won’t be able to control yourself. Nothing within you longed for the two of you to hold back, completely twisting dry everything you both could offer.

Composing yourself, completely forgetting about the perched camera, you allow Satoru’s briefly deprived lips to draw nearer to your folds. Mesmerised, Satoru persistently lowers a hesitant you — his broad tongue warm against your vulnerable cunt.

“I know you don’t want to hold back, sweetheart,” Egging you on, Satoru murmurs with ruggedness — his skilled fingers parting your present folds.

“‘Can’t hold back, baby,” Whining in a high-pitched voice, Satoru effortlessly pulls you down further — stationing your writhing folds against his adjusting lips.

“Don’t hold back, sweetheart, you’ve got a show to put on,” Eagerly informing you, Satoru hungrily latches upon your grinding cunt — his lips sucking upon your sensitive clit.

“‘C-Can’t, Sato’,” Gasping through your stuttered response, you bury your shaky fingers through Satoru’s silky hair strands — mindlessly grinding.

“Ah!” Your features scrunch up with each of your bellowed moans. Your consciousness stirs away from you with each hungry suck from Satoru.

Expressing his pussy feasting skills, Satoru propels himself into widening out the span of his tongue — licking desperate stripes towards your entrance. Unable to pry himself off of you, Satoru greedily latches upon your tender clit — thriving off of you moaning with glee, a desperate smile paving your beautiful face.

“So, so, beautiful,” Subconsciously reciting his praise, Satoru steadies your hips — unwilling to allow your faltering self to collapse.

If he was correct, you were seconds away from embarrassingly finishing.

“‘Too much, Sato’,” Moaning with budding tears, you continue to smother Satoru with your chubby cunt — so in love with the way it kisses his eagerly sucking lips.

“…” Silence envelops Satoru while he messily slurps up his lengthy saliva strings from your cunt, curling into the idea of you being completely unable to handle his ample tongue.

“Look…at you,” Murmuring with satisfaction, Satoru grins at your array of clustered moans — fulfilled at you mercilessly grinning in pleasure.

“Ngh…warm,” Foolishly finishing so quickly, you continue to grind your helpless lips against Satoru’s face — grasping your left breast.

“You finished?” Taunting you, Satoru strategically flees from beneath your thighs – groaning.

“Mhm,” Nodding with satisfaction, you glance at a primal Satoru – eagerly licking his lips.

“‘Sure you don’t want something, Sato’?” Innocently questioning Satoru, you shudder at the possessiveness that tints his gaze.

“Right now, I need that pussy,” Satoru eagerly announces, dragging you nearer to him by your toned hips.

“Strip, Sato’,” Pushing your lips together, you lightly command him – aware that he’s in control.

“So eager, huh?” Taunting you, radiating dominance and fondness, Satoru narrows his eyes at you.

“‘Need more,” You whiny say, nakedly sitting upon your knees – feeling a subtle power imbalance.

“When you look at me like that, how can I say no?” Teasing you, Satoru draws nearer to you. Consistent, Satoru disregards his tight shirt – revealing his extremely toned, rippling abs.

“Aw,” Grinning with awe, you admire each of Satoru’s toned muscles – in extreme awe.

He always rendered you into a flustered state.

“Won’t be in awe soon, baby,” Satoru teases you, swiftly disregarding the rest of his clothing – allowing you to relish his nudity.

“Hmmm,” You tease, consumed by an expanding array of lust.

“Ready, baby, to truly make a film?” Cooing, Satoru questions you – so close to disregarding his underwear.

“So…ready,” Obediently speaking, you gulp – lulled by Satoru’s angelic physique.

Mesmerised, exhibiting the traits of a sailor, you admire Satoru’s pre-cum stained underwear – enthralled by the ample bulge that lingers. Eagerly glancing, your heart pounding against your nude breasts, you admire Satoru’s intense teasing.

“Be patient, sweetheart,” Muttering, Satoru lustfully looks at you – slowly allowing his underwear to slip down his jacked leg muscles.

“‘M trying,” Whining, you grow a little teary. Each of your limbs contorted with lust, yet Satoru held a heavy dominance over you. A heavy one that you wouldn’t disregard; you’re his.

“Baby, I’ll let you have it,” Satoru announces, letting you admire his ample, colossal cock – consumed by its largeness.

“Need it, now,” Trembling, you instinctively lay upon your bed – posing heavily for a towering Satoru.

“Mhm, you’re so good for me,” Praising you, Satoru uses his deft hand to pull your hips closer. Adrenaline, lust and love adhere to him at your meek gasps, your slight shying away, your parted thighs and your wavering eyes. They etched at his sanity, leaving him to instinctively long to be inside of you, enveloped by your warm, love-pouring cunt.

“Yeah, but you're better inside,” Countering Satoru’s praise, you yelp at him grasping his monster cock with one hand – rubbing it against your soppy folds.

“I’m not even inside and you're sensitive,” Proving Satoru’s worded point, you moan at your folds sucking in his tip – gushy at feeling Satoru’s cum-coated cockhead.

“P-Please, Sato’,” Cum-driven, you plead with Satoru – shedding your dignity.

“Anything for you, baby,” Flustered at Satoru’s low statement, you conceal your fanciful moan. You’re ruled by Satoru’s cock teasing your fluttering entrance, taunting you.

Knowing the camera’s positioned perfectly, you wickedly gift Satoru a half-smile – flustered at his gruff brow rising. His perfection completely stole away your resolve, leaving you wanting your brains fucked out stupid and pulverised. Nothing within you longed to remain as sane as you did now, not cock-stricken.

“Prepare yourself, baby,” Satoru’s warning causes prompts you to smile, only to arch towards his cockhead beginning to slip into you – stretching and splitting open your cunt.

“Ohh, yes!” Instinctively, your eyes roll back with your mewling – leaving your fingers to grasp your bedsheets.

“S-So…warm,” Humming, Satoru gifts you an experimental thrust – burying you with his cock to the hilt.

Moaning loudly, decimated already, you're breathless. Your choppy breaths cut through the ambience, and your gasping floods Satoru’s ears as he cages you with his body. Whilst he cunningly sinks deeper within your life-altering cunt, Satoru’s eyes flutter while he maintains eye contact.

“‘Can…feel it,” Filled to the brim, your walls conquered, you’re dazed as you tell Satoru – drooling.

“Only for my…princess,” Gleeful, Satoru spews his love – unable to keep his cloudiness in check.

“C’mon, move…Sato’,” Encaged by Satoru’s warmth, you plead for him to move. The tips of your ears are so painfully warm and tingly, representing your inhumane heart rate.

Beaming, Satoru begins to set a slowed pace – relishing the warmth that wraps around his snug cock. Groaning and whimpering, Satoru begins to steady his hips – slowly thrusting and kissing your walls with his cock.

Glee pampers Satoru, casting him into sporting parted lips – moaning in pleasure. His pillowy lips part before you, prompting him to maintain eye contact. Seeing your features scrunched up in pleasure, handling his large cock, slightly hiccuping, completely tore into Satoru’s wavering self-restraint.

Hindered by his primal urges, Satoru begins to harshly thrust within you — animalistic at your extremely loud moans. The way your jiggly breasts bounced, your eyes forcefully rolled back, your fingers barely able to scratch his back, consumed him effortlessly.

“Sato’! Yes! ‘So good!” Distorted, you spew lewd sounds. You’re completely enveloped by the skin slapping and the soppiness of your pounded cunt.

It was too good for you to feel embarrassed.

“Mhm, you take me… so well,” Praising you, Satoru roughens his pace — slamming his cock inhumanely within you.

“Ah! Ngh!” Suffocated by Satoru’s warmth, your head swims with each harsh thrust — pulverised by his fat cock.

“Fuck! So warm,” Purring, Satoru grins with pleasure — breathless as he destroys your cute cunt.

Seeing it obediently squelch for him, building a ring of white — on the camera — made him feel pride. Shit, you were moments away from becoming marked by him — obedient and cock-driven. Fuck, he claimed you so hard — stretching out your singing cunt.

“You…deserve some kisses,” Nodding at Satoru’s hazy declaration, you’re out of it — drool slipping from your moaning lips.

Eager, Satoru transfers his sexual resolve into affection — pampering you with kisses. However, he feels slight unease — as if he’s being watched. Watched by someone by your bedroom window.

Slyly looking towards the penthouse window, Satoru notices long, raven locks and a tall man. A tall man he knows is Suguru, observing the intimate encounter between you and Satoru—infuriated.

“Sato’, gonna… cum!” Hiccuping, crying, you sluggishly announce your words — passionately clenching around his divine cock.

“Ah! Baby, give…me a show,” Satoru moans out, ruled by your cunt fully swallowing him up — warming him with your loved pussy walls.

“C-Can…feel you!” Teary, marked with pleasure, you’re rocked by Satoru’s pleasurable thrusts — feeling him harden immensely.

Bucking into you hungrily, Satoru’s choppy breaths flood your ear. Wavering, he fucks you harder — listening to the desperation from your gushy pussy. You’re unable to breathe, stolen away by Satoru’s cock. Your every thought is eaten away by Satoru’s cock, pulverising you and making you his own.

“Show me…you’re mine,” Turned on, Satoru grunts into your ear — observing every one of your pleasure-induced expressions.

“Ngh!” So sensitive, you continue to pleasurably cry — unable to control your rolling eyes. All you could mutter is incoherent phrases, destroyed by Satoru’s rough and rhythmic pace.

Exhausted, trembling, an unbearable warmth adorns you. You attempt to push Satoru away, overwhelmed by the weight of his athletic body, his beautiful thrusts and his intense stare.

“T-Too…Ah! much, baby?” Barely able to speak, Satoru questions you through grunts — his eyes rolling at you swiftly finishing.

“Sato’!” Ruled with pleasure, you shakily cling to Satoru — crying as you finally release.

“He could… never,” Gleefully, Satoru lazily speeds up his unfathomable pace — his words slurred.

With lowered eyes, Satoru makes eye contact with a crimson Suguru. Suguru’s infuriated with Satoru’s wicked claim on you, so deeply within you, terrorising and pulverising your gushy cunt.

Cruelly, Suguru could hear each sound you release, the lewdness of your pooling cunt, each cry you release and each reassuring kiss you share with Satoru. Further stealing you, Satoru gifts him a boyish grin — hardening effortlessly within you.

“‘Gonna…cum,” Warning you, Satoru gifts you a loving kiss — thrusting his deepest within an arching, gasping you.

Even fucked, you still have small resolve.

“In…side!” Desperately, you proclaim — wrapping your legs around Satoru’s toned waist.

“Imma… put a baby in you,” Watching you nod at his words, Satoru holds his deep thrust — his eyes fluttering.

“C’mon,” Croakily speaking, you loudly moan, “Yes!” Lovestriken, you gasp at the intensity of Satoru’s cumshot.

Unable to get enough, you relish in the thick spurts of cum within you — grinning at Satoru’s pulsating cock finishing within you again. Happiness adorns you while Satoru kisses the top of your head, observing your flustered expression and scrunched-up features.

“‘Did so good, baby,” Reassuring you, Satoru beautifully pulls out of you. He displays your cum-pooling cunt to the posed camera and an observing Suguru.

“We put on a good show,” Satoru mutters, using a fragment of his cursed energy to close the curtain — shunning a seething Suguru out.

“Send…it,” Tiredly commanding Satoru, you snuggle into his array of kisses.

“Mhm, poor Suguru has already seen enough,” Taunting you, you gasp — noticing Suguru’s silhouette from your bedroom curtain.

“Sato’!” Chuckling, you hold him closer — flustered at the spurts of cum that spew from you.

“I say, we should make more films?” Cosy, Satoru questions you — his lips tender with delight.

“Always, now let’s watch it,” Fatigued, you speak — trembling from the aftermath.

“‘Guess we don’t need to send the film,” Pouting, battering your eyelashes, you murmur.

Hmm, but Satoru knew he’d make more films with you.

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. read more.

[pucksandpower]

No Nut November

Lando Norris x Reader

Summary: Lando made a bet with his friends to give No Nut November a try but, as his girlfriend, you have other plans

Warnings: 18+ content and Lando shaving his head

You can’t believe Lando is actually going through with this. When he first told you about his silly bet with the other Quadrant guys to see who can go the longest without “nutting” in November, you thought he was joking.

But no, he insists he has to see it through now.

You roll your eyes in exasperation, “Babe, this is ridiculous. You know I have needs too.”

Lando just laughs and pulls you into a hug. “It’s just a month, love. We’ll be fine.”

“A whole month though? I’ll explode!” You whine dramatically.

He kisses your forehead. “You can manage, I believe in you.”

The first week actually goes smoothly enough. You figure you can handle this if you really try. Maybe it will even be good for your relationship, taking a break from the physical stuff for a bit.

But soon the desire starts creeping up on you more and more. Laying in bed one night, you roll over and start kissing Lando’s neck. He makes a small noise of protest and scoots away. “Come on, Y/N, you know we can’t.”

You huff in frustration. “But Lando, I need you.” Your hands start to wander under the sheets.

He catches your wrist gently. “Nuh uh, that’s against the rules.”

“Screw the rules!” You cry in exasperation.

Lando just shakes his head, clearly trying not to smile. “Stay strong, love. Only three more weeks to go.”

As the days pass, you get more and more worked up. Everything Lando does seems to turn you on now — the way he bites his lip in concentration, the flex of muscles when he lifts weights, even just the sound of his laugh.

One day after his workout, you’re waiting when he gets out of the shower, wearing his favorite lingerie set.

His eyes widen at the sight, but he steels himself. “That’s not going to work but I appreciate the effort,” he says with a cheeky grin.

You let out a dramatic wail. “Lando, please, I’m losing my mind here!”

He just keeps teasingly shaking his head as you continue your onslaught of pleading and temptation. You try every trick and tactic you can think of but he refuses to give in.

As November drags on, you’re utterly frustrated. At this point, it’s become a game and you’re determined not to lose. There’s no way Lando can hold out for the whole month when you look this damn good!

One evening, you decide to pull out all the stops. As Lando’s cooking dinner, you come up behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Standing on your tiptoes, you begin kissing his neck the way you know drives him crazy.

He tenses up immediately. “Y/N ...” he says warningly.

“Shhh ...” You whisper. “Just focus on cooking. I’ll stop if you really want me to.” Even as you say it, your hands drift lower, teasing along the waistband of his shorts.

Lando’s breath hitches but he keeps stirring the pasta valiantly. You continue with your ministrations, feathering kisses across his shoulders. When you nip his earlobe, he lets out a low groan.

“That’s it baby, you know you want this,” you purr. Your fingers dip below the elastic of his briefs to tease along his hip bones.

Lando curses under his breath, his resolve clearly weakening. You seize the opportunity to deepen the kisses, sucking at the sensitive spot on his neck. Your other hand trails up his chest, fingertips circling over his shirt.

“Y/N, please—” he gasps out. The pasta is now dangerously close to boiling over but neither of you care anymore.

Grinning in triumph, you spin Lando around and crash your lips to his in a searing kiss. He kisses you back feverishly, his hands coming up to cup your face as he walks you backward toward the bedroom.

***

Lando kicks the bedroom door shut behind you as his lips meet yours again hungrily. All thoughts of No Nut November are clearly out the window now.

Your hands fumble urgently with the hem of his shirt, breaking the kiss just long enough to tug it over his head. He returns the favor, peeling off your top and bra in one smooth motion.

Skin pressing against skin, you both groan at the contact you’ve been craving. Lando’s hands grip your hips, steering you toward the bed until the back of your legs hit the mattress. You let yourself fall backward, pulling him down on top of you.

Your lips find each other again as your hands explore eagerly. Lando kisses down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking in a way that makes you squirm against him.

“God I’ve missed this,” you breathe out as his fingers trail over your breast.

He hums in agreement, his touch lighting sparks across your skin. Your back arches off the bed as his mouth closes over your nipple.

Tangling your hands in his hair, you guide him lower, gasping when his lips reach the waistband of your leggings. He looks up at you questioningly and you nod eagerly.

In one smooth motion he tugs them off, followed swiftly by your underwear. You’re completely bare before him now and trembling in anticipation.

Lando’s eyes drink you in hungrily. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he growls before diving in.

You cry out as his tongue finds your clit, gripping the sheets tightly. He works you expertly, ramping up the pressure until you are writhing and moaning. Your orgasm builds fast and hard, his name tumbling from your lips.

“Yes, yes Lando! Don’t stop!” You pant out. Your climax crashes over you powerfully, stars bursting behind your eyelids.

Lando works you through it gently before moving back up to kiss you deeply. You can taste yourself on his lips and it makes you impossibly more turned on.

Reaching for his belt, you make quick work of the rest of his clothes. Taking him in your hand, you stroke him firmly as he groans into your mouth.

“Need you ... now,” you gasp out urgently.

Lando lines himself up at your entrance, his eyes questioning. You nod eagerly and he pushes inside you slowly. You both moan long and low at the feeling of him filling you up.

He sets a steady rhythm, rocking into you deeply. You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper. The coil in your core starts building again right away.

“Faster, Lando, please,” you beg. He obliges, snapping his hips quicker. You drag your nails down his back making him shudder.

The sound of skin slapping on skin and your mingled moans fill the room. You can tell Lando is getting close by the way he tenses and swells inside you.

Reaching down between you, he circles your clit rapidly. “Come on baby, come with me,” you urge him on. Your words send him over the edge with a choked groan.

His release triggers your second powerful orgasm, your walls contracting around him.

You cling to each other, riding out the aftershocks together. Lando collapses on top of you, nuzzling into your neck. You stroke his hair gently, holding him close.

“Guess you lost the bet,” you tease after a moment.

He chuckles against your skin. “So worth it.”

You tilt his chin up to kiss him softly, filled with love and contentment. Who cares about some silly internet challenge anyway? You and Lando have all you need right here.

***

The next morning, you wake up tangled in Lando’s arms, smiling at the memories of last night. Stretching contentedly, you roll over to face him.

“Good morning,” you murmur, leaning in to kiss him.

He kisses you back softly. “Morning, love.”

You run your fingers through his curls. “I don’t think I’ve ever appreciated your hair more than I did last night,” you say with a grin.

Lando laughs but then his expression turns serious. “About that ... there’s something I should tell you about the bet.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Oh?”

“Part of the deal was that the first one to fail No Nut November has to shave their head,” he admits.

“What? No!” You gasp, clutching protectively at his hair. “You are not shaving these beautiful curls, I forbid it!”

He sighs. “I don’t want to but I made a deal. The lads will never let me hear the end of it if I don’t follow through.”

You pout dramatically. “Can’t you just lie and say you succeeded? They never need to know!”

Lando shakes his head. “They’d see right through me. I’m rubbish at lying.”

“But your hair ...” you whine sadly.

“It will grow back,” he assures you, though he doesn’t look happy about it either.

You bite your lip, thinking hard. “What if you just don’t tell them we had sex? Then as far as they know, you’re still in the running and you don’t have to shave your head! Don’t think of it as lying … think of it as omitting the truth.”

He considers this. “I guess that could work as long as they don’t find out somehow.”

“Exactly! Our secret is safe with me,” you swear solemnly. Crisis averted!

Later that day when Lando hops on stream with the Quadrant guys, you make yourself scarce to avoid any accidental slip-ups.

Lando greets his friends cheerfully. “Alright mates, how’s everyone holding up?”

“Still going strong,” Max Fewtrell reports. “You?”

“Yep, all good here,” Lando lies smoothly.

You listen from the other room, praying they don’t notice anything amiss. But a few minutes later, you hear Max exclaim “Lando, what’s that on your neck?”

Lando sounds flustered. “What? Nothing!”

“That��s definitely a hickey! He’s got hickies all over!” Max crows. “You broke, didn’t you Norris?”

You gasp, realizing in horror that you must have left marks last night.

Lando tries to deny it but eventually crumbles under their interrogation. “Alright fine, I gave in. But don’t tell Y/N that I told you!”

Raucous laughter ensues, followed by teasing demands that he shave his head immediately.

You rush in frantically. “No, stop! It was my fault, I seduced him!” You blurt out.

More laughter. “Wow mate, she’s really got you wrapped around her finger!”

Lando rubs his neck ruefully. “Yeah, couldn’t resist her even with the bet.” He winks at you.

You bite your lip guiltily. “I’m sorry I got you in trouble.”

He just smiles and pulls you into his lap. “I’d lose every bet in the world for you.”

Ignoring his cheering friends, he kisses you tenderly. You sigh happily, running your fingers through his curls one last time.

If this bet means sacrificing his lovely locks, you’re definitely making up for it tonight.

***

Despite your pleas and protests, Lando is determined to go through with the bet.

“I gave my word, love. Gotta shave it off,” he says, giving you an apologetic look.

You pout sadly. “I can’t believe I’m losing your beautiful curls because of my lack of self-control.”

He tilts your chin up to look at him. “Hey, no blaming yourself. I’m the idiot who made the bet in the first place.”

Lando retrieves his electric razor while you perch on the bathroom counter’s edge, watching mournfully. Taking a deep breath, he turns it on and brings it to his head.

You gasp as the first patch of hair falls away. “No, wait!” You cry, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

He raises his eyebrows. “What’s wrong?”

Your lower lip quivers. “I can’t watch this. It’s too traumatic!”

Lando laughs and wraps you in a hug. “Oh darling, it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.”

You cling to him dramatically. “But I love your hair so much!” Running your hands through his soft curls one last time, you sigh. “At least let me help, so I can savor every last strand.”

He smiles and hands you the razor. With a heavy heart, you get to work shaving off his glorious locks. You go slowly, offering up little eulogies along the way.

“Goodbye right sideburn, you always looked so sharp.”

“Farewell beautiful crown curls, so bouncy and free!”

Lando tries not to laugh at your antics. “It’s not dying, love, it’s just hair.”

“Shush, let me mourn in peace,” you sniffle.

As the last section of hair falls away, you set down the razor with a forlorn sigh. Lando runs his hand over his newly bare head and checks himself in the mirror.

“Well, what do you think?” He asks.

You bite your lip, holding back a groan. He looks so ... bald.

Lando frowns at your expression. “That bad, huh?”

“No, no!” You assure him. “Just different. I’ll get used to it.” You manage a weak smile.

He grins and pulls you close. “Don’t worry, I’m still the same Lando underneath.” To demonstrate, he begins trailing kisses down your neck.

You shudder involuntarily. “But ... what will I hold onto now when you’re going down on me?” You ask with distress.

Lando barks out a laugh. “I’m sure we’ll figure something out,” he promises, nipping at your earlobe.

Despite your mood, you can’t help but melt under his touch. You supposed you could get used to your bald Lando, though you already miss tugging on those luscious curls.

Later that night, Lando makes good on his promise to prove he can still drive you wild, hair or no hair. And as you lay tangled up afterward, blissfully sated, you have to admit — he still has some serious skills.

Running your hand over his stubbly head, you grin mischievously. “Well done, Mr. Worldwide.”

He gives you a confused look. “What?”

“You know, like Pitbull!” You laugh. “The bald head reminds me of him. I’ll have to come up with more bald nicknames now.”

Lando groans playfully. “What have I gotten myself into?” But he’s smiling as he pulls you in for another deep kiss.

***

It’s the morning of the Las Vegas Grand Prix and you’re with Lando in the paddock for his pre-race interviews. He’s got a cap pulled down over his head but it’s not enough to stop the questions.

“Lando, you’re looking a bit different today,” the reporter remarks with a wry smile. “What’s with the new hairstyle?”

Lando tugs the cap lower, laughing awkwardly. “Oh you know, just felt like a change.”

“A pretty drastic change though, no? Don’t think we’ve ever seen you with a shaved head before.” The reporter presses further.

“Ah, well ...” Lando trails off, glancing at you sheepishly. You give him an encouraging nod, feeling your cheeks heat up.

“Let’s just say I lost a bet and leave it at that,” Lando finally mutters.

The reporter looks like he wants to inquire further but Lando steers the conversation to the race ahead. You let out a relieved breath, glad the subject seems to have been dropped.

But after the interview, a boisterous voice rings out behind you. “Oi, Lando! Heard you lost No Nut November!”

You and Lando whirl around to see Daniel Ricciardo sauntering over, his eyes glinting with mirth.

Lando groans. “Who told you that?”

“A little birdie named Max Verstappen who heard from Alex who heard from George,” Daniel chuckles. “So come on, give us the details! Was it the work of this lovely lady here?” He winks at you exaggeratedly.

You know your face must be scarlet now. Lando just stammers helplessly, which makes Daniel laugh harder.

“No need to be shy! Happens to all of us.” He leans in conspiratorially. “Though gotta say mate, I’m impressed you even made it close to halfway. If I had a girl like that waiting at home? Wouldn’t last a week!”

“Daniel!” Lando blurts out but he’s fighting back laughter now too. You bury your face in Lando’s shoulder, torn between embarrassment and amusement.

“In fact ...” Daniel taps his chin thoughtfully. “Reckon you deserve a prize for making it through 14 days. Most blokes wouldn’t make it past five! Here ...”

He reaches up and plops his AlphaTauri cap onto Lando’s head. “A trophy for your noble efforts!”

Lando swats him away, snickering. “Piss off, mate.”

“Just spreading the love!” Daniel calls over his shoulder as he saunters off. “And remember — November is for nutting, not for nothing!”

Lando shakes his head, still chuckling. “Unbelievable. Remind me why I’m friends with him again?”

You finally lift your flushed face from his shoulder. “Because he’s ridiculous in the best way and makes everything fun?” You offer with a giggle.

“Too right, love.” Lando smiles and pulls you into a quick kiss. “Now wish me luck today, yeah? I’m off to claim my real trophy!”

You smoothe down his new AlphaTauri cap and kiss him again for extra luck. Even through your lingering embarrassment, Daniel’s antics have lifted the mood. And Lando does look pretty darn cute in that cap. Time to go get that podium!

***

By some miracle, Lando takes the chequered flag in Vegas, earning his first ever Formula 1 race win.

The team is ecstatic, mobbing him in the pits and spraying champagne everywhere. You’re jumping up and down, screaming yourself hoarse.

As he pulls into parc fermé, Lando yanks off his helmet and balaclava, his shiny bald head gleaming with sweat. Fisting the air triumphantly, he looks like the happiest man alive.

The podium ceremony and interviews pass in a blur of joyful chaos. Lando can’t stop beaming, gazing at the trophy in his hands like he can’t believe it’s real.

Finally you get him alone in his driver’s room, immediately jumping into his arms and kissing him fiercely. “You did it!” You shout gleefully.

Lando laughs, spinning you around. “I actually did it! This is the best day ever!”

You cup his face in your hands. “I’m so proud of you.” Kissing him again, you murmur, “Now it’s time for us to celebrate properly.”

A grin spreads across Lando’s face. “Oh yeah? What did you have in mind?”

In response, you lead him toward the couch, peeling off his race suit and fireproofs along the way. You push him down on the leather, straddling his waist and capturing his lips hungrily.

Lando responds eagerly, his hands roaming your body. As you move together, his touches feel extra electrifying in the wake of his triumph.

Afterward, you lay wrapped in each other’s arms, basking in the afterglow. Lando presses soft kisses to your hair. “You were right, this is the perfect way to celebrate.”

You laugh, snuggling closer. “Mmhmm, I’m full of good ideas.”

He runs a hand over his head contemplatively. “You know, I think this new aerodynamic look might actually be my good luck charm. Maybe I should keep it?”

You bolt upright, glaring down at him in horror. “Don’t you dare! This is a temporary tragedy we must endure but the curls will return.”

Lando chuckles at your reaction. “Relax, love. I’m only joking.” He tugs you back down, nuzzling your neck. “Trust me, I miss my hair as much as you do. The second November ends, the curls are coming back.”

“Good,” you huff. “Bald is a very sexy look on some people but on you it’s just ... wrong.” You place a hand on his cheek. “I miss running my fingers through those soft locks. Your hair has always been one of my favorite things about you.”

Lando smiles up at you tenderly. “Don’t worry, I promise you’ll have your handsy little mitts full of my curls again before you know it.”

“I better,” you threaten playfully. “And you’ll look as dashing as ever.”

You kiss him again, conveying all the pride and affection overflowing from your heart. No matter what hairstyle he’s rocking, Lando is your champion. Though you can’t wait to see those luscious honey-brown curls again.

[thesecondhandwoman]

may i request caitvi kid reader play fighting with her mama vi pls?

PLAY FIGHTING

Caitlyn x Vi x kid f!reader

Synopsis: Another day of chaos started with play fighting mama Vi, but when you didn’t win, it turned into a session of comforting a fussy kiddo.

Request: Anon 🤍

A/N: Part three of Motherly Love

The living room was a battleground, and you were determined to win. Pillows had been piled up like barricades, and blankets draped across the couch like strategic cover. You crouched behind one of your pillow fort walls, your small but mighty frame poised for action. Bunny, your ever-loyal companion, sat tucked into the pocket of your overalls, ready to observe the chaos.

Across the room, Vi stood tall, hands on her hips, a cocky grin on her face. She cracked her knuckles dramatically, her pink hair tousled and wild. “Alright, squirt. You think you can take on the champ?”

You puffed out your chest, fists on your hips in perfect imitation of her. “I’m not a squirt! I’m the Dragon Slayer, and I’m gonna win!”

Vi smirked, crouching slightly to meet your height, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Oh yeah? You got moves, Dragon Slayer? Let’s see ’em.”

“Vi, don’t break the furniture,” Caitlyn’s voice floated in from the kitchen, where she was sipping tea and watching the chaos unfold with thinly veiled amusement.

“Relax, cupcake. This is all under control,” Vi called back before turning her full attention to you. “Alright, kiddo. Give me your best shot.”

With a high-pitched battle cry, you launched yourself at Vi, tiny hands swiping at her in what could only be described as the most dramatic attack in history. Vi laughed, dodging and weaving like a prizefighter, her movements exaggerated to keep the game fun.

“You’re quick, I’ll give you that,” she teased, narrowly avoiding your swipes. “But you’re gonna have to do better than—”

Before she could finish, you managed to land a soft slap on her arm. Gasping, she stumbled back, clutching her chest like she’d been mortally wounded. “Oh no! The Dragon Slayer strikes again!”

You giggled, proud of yourself, while Vi dramatically collapsed onto the couch, her legs flopping over the armrest. “You got me, kid. I’m done for.”

“Victory!” you declared, climbing up onto the couch to strike a triumphant pose. Bunny peeked out of your pocket like he, too, was basking in the glory.

But just as you turned to Caitlyn to announce your win, Vi lunged, scooping you up into her arms. “Gotcha!” she laughed, tossing you lightly onto the pile of pillows.

“No fair, Mama!” you squealed, trying to scramble back up.

“All’s fair in love and play fights,” Vi quipped, pinning you gently with one hand.

“Vi, don’t gloat,” Caitlyn warned, though her tone was more amused than stern.

You squirmed and wiggled, trying to escape, but Vi’s hold was unrelenting. “Say ‘I tap out’,” she teased, grinning as she held you in place.

“Never!” you huffed, your bottom lip beginning to tremble.

At first, you didn’t even realize your frustration was building. Vi’s teasing grin, her effortless strength, and the fact that you couldn’t wiggle free all piled up until you felt the lump in your throat.

Your bottom lip wobbled, your cheeks puffing out in an attempt to hold back the flood. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, welling up in your eyes until they spilled over.

“M-Mama,” you sniffled, your voice breaking.

Vi froze instantly, her grin vanishing as panic set in. “Oh no, no, no, kiddo, don’t cry! I wasn’t— I didn’t mean— Aw, man.” She scooped you up, holding you close as you let out a wail.

Caitlyn appeared in the doorway, her brow furrowing as she crossed the room in long, quick strides. “Vi, what did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything!” Vi protested, looking genuinely distressed. “We were playing, and then—” She gestured helplessly at your tear-streaked face.

Caitlyn sighed, taking you gently from Vi’s arms. “Shh, darling. It’s alright,” she cooed, cradling you against her chest. She rocked you back and forth, her soft voice and warm embrace chasing away the sting of losing. “Mama can be a little too rough sometimes, can’t she?”

You sniffled, burying your face in Caitlyn’s shoulder. “She cheated,” you mumbled, your small voice muffled.

Vi gasped, clutching her chest again, but this time with real offense. “Cheated? Kiddo, I would never!”

Caitlyn shot her a look, though her lips twitched like she was trying not to smile. “Perhaps it’s time for a rematch. With a little assistance.”

You peeked up at her, your tears slowing. “Really?”

“Really,” Caitlyn said, her eyes sparkling with a promise.

With Caitlyn holding you securely in her arms, you felt invincible. Bunny had been moved to a place of honor on the couch, watching the proceedings like the referee of a great battle.

Vi stood across the room, hands on her hips, trying not to laugh. “Alright, alright. Two against one, huh? You think that’s fair?”

“Absolutely,” Caitlyn said primly, shifting you slightly so you had a better view of Vi. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Yeah!” you cheered, your confidence restored.

“Then let’s get her,” Caitlyn said, and with that, she charged.

Well, it was more of a dignified jog, but to you, it felt like a full-blown cavalry charge. You stretched your arms out toward Vi, your tiny hands aiming for her sides.

“Tickle attack!” you cried, Caitlyn guiding you as you latched onto Vi’s waist.

Vi yelped, doubling over in exaggerated defeat. “No fair, cupcake! You’re helping her cheat!”

“Consider it justice,” Caitlyn replied smoothly, her grip on you steady as you continued your assault.

Vi finally collapsed onto the pile of pillows, laughing uncontrollably as your tiny fingers poked and tickled her sides. “Alright, alright! I give up!” she wheezed, holding her hands up in surrender.

“Victory!” you shouted again, this time with Caitlyn’s support.

Caitlyn set you down gently, kneeling beside you as you climbed onto Vi’s chest, your small hands on your hips. “I win, Mama. Me and Mommy are the best team ever!”

Vi looked up at you, her smile soft and full of love despite her supposed defeat. “Yeah, yeah, you got me. Guess I’ll have to train harder if I want to beat the Dragon Slayer and her sidekick.”

Caitlyn raised an eyebrow. “Sidekick?”

“Uh, I mean, team captain,” Vi corrected quickly, winking at you.

You giggled, leaning down to press a kiss to Vi’s cheek. “I still love you, Mama. Even if you’re a bad guy.”

Vi’s arms wrapped around you, pulling you into a bear hug. “Love you too, squirt. Even if you’re a cheater.”

“She is not,” Caitlyn said, smoothing your hair as she stood. “Now, let’s clean up this battlefield before dinner, shall we?”

By the time dinner was ready, the living room was back to normal, and the three of you sat around the table, laughing and talking like always. Bunny had been returned to his rightful place by your side, his ears slightly more crumpled than before but no worse for wear.

As Caitlyn served dessert—your favorite cookies—you couldn’t help but smile, your heart full and warm.

“Best day ever,” you declared, holding Bunny up like he agreed.

Caitlyn leaned over to kiss the top of your head. “Every day with you is the best day ever, darling.”

Vi ruffled your hair, grinning. “Yeah, even when you kick my butt.”

You giggled, leaning into their love. In your little world, there was no better place to be.

A/N: Sorry this was so short, I tried to finish it up during Christmas (hope you guys had a good Christmas btw!)

[ddejavvu]

MEI. MEI, MY MOST FAVORITEST FANFIC WRITER. IVE HAD AN IDEA.

PENELOPE (Garcia) AND READER GOT THEIR PERIOD CYCLES SYNCED, AND SO THEYRE BOTH OVULATING AT THE SAME TIME, AND SO DURING DOWN TIME THEYRE IN GARCIAS OFFICE LOOKING AT BABY PICTURES, AND MORGAN COMES IN, AND READER LOOKS AT HIM AND GOES "Derek, put a baby in me." AND JUST LIKE EKDBJEGDHE

RELATIONSHIP PRE ESTABLISHED OR NOT, IDC, I JUST NEED THIS. 🙏🙏🙏

i love the idea of being cycle synced with penny she's my girl <3

--

"This is my niece," Penelope tilts her phone towards you, and beneath her hello kitty phone charm that dangles in front of the screen, you can see the chubby outline of a baby girl dressed in pink frills and a comically large hairbow.

"Oh, the baby," You gush, voice raising an immeasurable number of octaves, "Her little fingernails are painted pink!"

"I know!" Penelope wails, anguish worked into the wrinkles her frown etches into her face, "God, she's so teeny-tiny and she's such a babbler, she coos at you and she holds onto your finger and she looks at you with these big pretty eyes, and-! I need a baby so bad."

"Me too." You nod resolutely, "Okay - here's the plan. We're gonna go out after work tonight, and the first guy that comes onto us, we're gonna jump him and have his babies."

"Several of them," Penelope catches on, "And we'll send him away and raise them as the BAU's children so that they grow up with Reid's smarts and Emily's kick-assery."

"Amazing. No notes." You stand from the cushy couch in the corner of one of the BAU's rec rooms, "Let's go find ourselves a baby daddy, Penelope."

Before she can stand and join you, the door opens, and your eyes meet the strong, sturdy figure of Derek Morgan. He's clueless as to what he's just walked into, but you study his features briefly.

Strong shoulders. Balanced face. Pretty eyes.

"Derek," You hold your head high, standing strong, "Put a baby in me."

Nothing moves but his eyes, which widen against the smooth tone of his skin. He's effectively frozen in place, and Penelope speaks in his place when she stands beside you and urges, "Me too!"

"We're looking to get pregnant," You explain, which doesn't ease the stiffness in his posture the way you thought it would, "And you seem like a good candidate. Our babies will excel at kicking in doors."

"Uh, that sounds like a concern for a sperm bank, ladies," His voice is slightly weaker than it usually is, but a faint smirk begins to grow on his handsome features, "But I s'pose if you really want, I can open up my own."

"On second thought," Penelope stage-whispers to you, her cherry-flavored lips beside your ear, "I don't want our babies to have his cockiness."

"Hey, you asked me-"

"You're right," You nod back to her, eyes still trained on Derek protesting before you, "Maybe Reid?"

"We'd have to pay for glasses." Penelope laments, "And Hotch's would be born frowning."

"We're out of luck." You sigh morosely flopping back down onto the couch, "The men of the BAU are all disqualified."

"Nuh-uh," Derek grins, something evil glinting in his eye as payback for your earlier teasing. You eye him suspiciously, a distasteful frown already worming its way over your face. But of course, he's Derek Morgan, and he excels at goading. "You forgot Rossi. You ladies ever try Italian sausage?"

[mytheoristavenue]

DS Sanemi Shinazagawa x Reader 🍋 - Crying Won't Help

Kinktober 2024 - III

Dacryphilia + Creampie

Summary: You've really irritated Sanemi now, you should know better than to be so friendly with his colleagues.

Warnings: Dacryphillia, unprotected sex, fem!reader, creampie, jealousy, rough sex, degradation, praise, punishment, preestablished relationship, short/rushed, porn with little plot

"Don't squirm," Sanemi's voice was stern, but not yet harsh as he held you down, wrists pinning to his futon. "Now tell me what you did wrong."

You swallowed hard, kiss-bitten lips already covered in drool. "I-I... was talking with Uzui." You confessed breathlessly.

"Tell the truth." He commanded, tone almost likened to a disappointed father. "You weren't just talking to him and you know it."

"W-Was I...flirting with him?" You dared to ask, struggling in your boyfriend's hold.

"If you have to ask, you're guilty without a doubt." He decided, tightening his grasp on your wrists. "What punishment would you say is fit?"

You swallowed hard, knowing how seriously he took fidelity and justice in your relationship. "I-I'll make it up to you," you suggested with a hopeful gleam in your eye. "Let me up and I'll prove my devotion to you..." Sanemi sat back on his heels, seemingly considering it for a moment. "Please, baby?"

"Gonna suck my cock 'til I say to stop?" He asked, seemingly convinced. You eagerly nodded, unable to believe he'd let you off so easily. You'd love nothing more than to lounge in his lap, lazily slobbering all over him for hours on end. But that wasn't what he wanted. "Nah, that's not gonna be enough."

"B-But-" You began to protest, only for him to mock you, pinching your pouty lip between his thumb and index.

"B-But, but, but..." He teased, gently pulling at your lip. "I said no, try again." His tone was lighthearted and patient. He wanted you to solve the riddle. "How are you gonna make this up to me, baby?"

You were at a loss, already emotional and overwhelmed from his teasing and his heavy kisses from earlier. You hated his mind games, never able to play them to his satisfaction. "W-What do you want...?" You whimpered, tears beginning to prick your eyes. Suddenly, he got an idea.

-----

"Hush baby, crying won't help," Sanemi cooed, leaning down, sweat dripping off his forehead and onto yours as he pounded into you. "You know it only makes me harder." He laughed weakly, pressing closer, his tongue dipping out of his mouth to lick up your tear-stained cheeks. He savored the salty taste of your sorrow on his tongue, letting out a delighted growl. "Fuck, you're so pretty when you cry..."

You were exactly how he liked you, blubbering and begging for mercy, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as you writhed from overstimulation. He absolutely adored how you looked normally, so put together and so refined, but he was obsessed with seeing you disheveled. Nothing compared to the thrill he got from seeing you fall apart for any reason, but it was so much better when it was at his hands.

Your body is wracked with sobs, unable to handle any of the stimulation he was giving you, receiving so much intense pleasure that didn't even register as such anymore. You ached, not for your own release, but for his, for a reason for it to end. All you wanted was a break, just a few minutes to catch your breath, but that was a privledge you hadn't earned.

"Awe, what's the matter, crybaby?" He cooed, pounding into you as brutally as he could. "Am I bullying you too hard? Want your little boyfriend, Uzui to come save you?"

N-Nuh uh..." You wept, snivelling. "J-Just want you, 'Nemi." You promised, resigning to him. He lived to see you give in, laying there taking your punishment like a good girl. If you hadn't been in such trouble, he may have rewarded your obedience.

"That's my girl," He soothed, wiping your cheek with a calloused thumb. "Cry a little harder for me, show me how bad you need this load."

"P-Please, baby?" You wailed louder, face wet with needy tears. "Please, give it to me, I-I can take it!"

A sadistic smile cracked across his face and he zeroed in, leaning in to lick away your tears once more, letting the flavor disolve on his tongue as it hung slack from his jaw. His hand finally released yours, gripping your hips like a vice. "Hold on tight, baby." He ordered and you wasted no time in obeying, reaching up and clinging to him like a lifeline. "Gonna get a little rough with you, but I know a sweet thing like you can handle it, right?"

"M-Mhm, I can handle it.." You whimpered into his shoulder, bracing yourself for brutality.

"Perfect, baby, just like that," He praised with a grin, pulling away slightly, making sure he was alligned. "Now cry for me, don't you dare ask me to stop, 'kay?" You knew better than the try anyways, choking on your drool when he finally snapped his hips back against yours again, immediately melting into his sweat soaked skin. "Tell me you're sorry." He ordered, voice hoarse and gravelly.

"I-I'm so sorry, my love!" You sobbed, burying your face into his throat. "I-I'm sorry for flirting with Uzui!"

"So you admit you were flirting with him?" He growled with delight. "You admit you're a little attention whore?"

"Y-Yes!"

"Say it," He snapped, bullying your cervix until bruised, fingernails leaving cresent moon shaped indents on your doughy hips. "Say it and I'll forgive you, 'pologize with tears, baby."

"I-I'm sorry I-I'm such an attention whore!" You wept through clenched teeth. "I-I'm so sorry, Sanemi, please forgive me, I only wanted your attention!"

Finally satisfied, he sighed with glee, lead eyes snapping open. "All's forgiven, pretty girl, c'mere." He pulled you infinitely closer, heart swelling with affection for you, knowing how tightly he had you wrapped around his finger. "Milk my cock and we'll be done."

With the finish line in sight, your fire was reignited and you mustered all your strength to flex your abdominal muscles, creating an irrisitibly tight squeeze. "So fuckin' good, princess, don't stop." Sanemi rasped, a painful look overtaking his features as his pace began to slow into steady but rough thrusts. He was focusing on chasing that high, and you swore to help as best you could, sucking him back in and rolling your hips to meet his.

He sucked in a hot breath through his teeth, beginning to fall apart, brows knitting upwards as his beastly grunts devolved into angellic, whiny moans. "H-Hahh, so fuckin' tight for me, yeah," He rambled. "Oh shit, pretty..." Were his last words before you felt warmth pool inside you, spilling out and dripping down your thighs. "S-Stay so still for me, babe, don't move." He begged, fucking his seed even deeper inside, knowing you were only there for him, you had long since lost the sensitivy needed to finish.

"L-Love you, 'Nemi..." You cooed, so relieved to feel that firmiliar, gooey discomfort. You did as he said, keeping perfectly still until he layed you back down, looking absoluetly spent.

"Love you too, princess..." He murmured, languidly slipping out, hand wrapped around his base, lightly smearing his cock against your creamy core, just to see the mess spread. "Did so good," He huffed, absentmindedly petting your glistening heat. "Behave yourself tommorrow and I'll reward you, 'kay?"

You nodded with a lovesick grin plastered on your face, exhausted enough to drift off despite his touch. "'kay..."

[komelliko]

manipulative!boss!sunday x timid!secretary!reader

summary: You accept the dinner invite, but can't shake the feeling that Sunday had alternative motivations. Well—you can't seem to get yourself to ignore it as well as you usually do, at least. wc: 1.3k

part 1 / part 2 / part 3 (nsfw)

---

To say you’re surprised that Sunday knows something almost feels on its way to an insult. Ever since meeting him, you’ve felt the notion that Sunday fills every room he’s in with a sort of omnipresence—a watchfulness that extends beyond his direct gaze, an invisible cloud of eminence curling in the corners of space like steam. Sure, you collect information for him in your manila folders and papers and electronic mails… but you often wonder if it’s merely to organize, not to present. That he is already aware of all things, and only wishes for it to be in proper order. 

All this to say: The dress fitting you perfectly is entirely logical. Sure, maybe it’s a bit too perfect, but to show concern feels almost sacrilegious. 

Of course Sunday knows. It’s normal for an employer to know such things, isn’t it?

Regardless, you find yourself out of place in this Blue Hour restaurant. Your only companions seem to be the objects in your old clutch: Your phone, and a metal tin of your favorite mints. Bringing along a wallet or even a few credit bills was out of the question, Sunday had assured you. Even at your protest, he insisted it would be taken care of. 

You press a mint against the roof of your mouth with your tongue. You had been too anxious to remember the name of the restaurant, only hearing the erratic pace of the jazz music echoing from the band’s main stage. Only seeing the satin of the tablecloth. Only feeling the gnawing pit in your stomach.

“About today’s report, sir—“

Sunday would only keep his clasped fists against the table, maybe his forearms, but never his elbows. He was a man with remarkable, old-fashioned etiquette. 

“Please,” he corrects you. “Call me Sunday.” “Mister Sunday,” you reiterate. But something tells you to stop talking anyways.

Your eyes glance around the room, wondering from what other angles he seems to be watching you, ridiculous as it may sound. You curse yourself at how easy it is to ‘pay it no mind’, ‘give it no thought’ in any other occasion. During work, at meetings, or when his presence is invisible to you. The sentiment feels like the most logical thing in the world then, but now? It’s a ridiculous notion. 

But you can at least pretend to pay it no mind, and you find that to be enough for the time being. The band plays on, a saxophone wailing out its melody over double bass and the hiss of the drum kit.

"Jazz as a term for Penaconian music is a fairly recent construction," he begins to speak, at first seemingly to nobody but himself. "Popularized by my dear sister, naturally. Do you know what the term comes from?" 

You shake your head. 

"'Jats', more commonly phrased as 'the jats', also known as spirit, moxie, joie de vivre—Now, it's been corrupted to mean something closer to restlessness," he sighs. "But in its inception, to have 'the jats' was to be blessed by Xipe with a certain euphoria, and the style of music that many associated with such a feeling was said to be played by 'Jats bands'." Sunday takes the smallest sip of his drink before adding "But Jazz rolls off the tongue better, doesn't it?”

You laugh, a rictus showing on your face. “Indeed it does, Mr. Sunday.”

He smiles no wider than he would at any other person. Your certain vulnerability seems to almost leak onto the floor, rivulets flowing down the legs of your chair—Sunday relishes in the image, watery anxiety beading off the skin of your back and running down the curve of your spine. Underneath his gloves, his knuckles pale as he laces his fingers together tightly. The vision before him is everything he’d ever hoped for—what he’d been picturing when he selected the venue, the dress, the time. A plan perfectly orchestrated.

“I worry sometimes that you have the wrong idea of me, [Y/N],” he posits, glibly. “You seem tense.”

You stop yourself from placing another mint in your mouth to look him in the eye. “Oh, it’s nothing, Mr. Sunday,” you lie, “It’s just been a while since we’ve been seated, and we’ve only been given drinks.”

“I have an inclination that our food will be out shortly.” “…But sir,” you question, “We haven’t ordered.” “Our reservation asked for orders at the time of scheduling,” Sunday smiles. “As I said before, everything is being taken care of for you.”

Your eyes drift to the other patrons: A patchwork mass of Halovians here, Pepeshi there, many of which are discussing unknowable things over their large menus. You tell yourself it’s nothing to worry about. Logically, Sunday must know something you don’t. Sunday must know a lot of things that you don’t. 

Sunday watches the slight movements of your jaw as your tongue curls around the next mint in your mouth. The first mint in your mouth had lasted two minutes, the next forty seconds, and the final only twenty-five. Perhaps there was something you were trying to purify within yourself—the unease he found so tantalizing at this moment, a symptom of your delicious eagerness to please—that you hoped to extract from each mint, your cheeks sucking in a nearly imperceptible degree as you drained each one dry. Sunday could imagine himself reaching over across the table to open your mouth with his thumb, saliva pooling in your mouth from the way you were siphoning the little white tablets greedily, the delicate muscles in your face spasming and twitching as you shudder beneath his velvet touch.

If he was a lesser man...

"Don't spoil your appetite on those mints, darling," Sunday jokes. He can immediately see you tense up from the name, swallowing the tablet in your mouth. "My apologies, Mister Sunday."

...Boss or not...why the hell were you apologizing to him?

"I told you, Sunday is fine," he smiles. "...Do I frighten you?" "Excuse me?" Sunday tilts his head to the side the slightest bit, his cranial wings drooping. Still, even as he expresses his supposed concern, his smile doesn't fade.

"You seem frightened, dear," he coos. "If I'd known you would hate dinner with me so much, I wouldn't have asked you." Initially, you feel yourself overcome with guilt. He was spending all this money on you just for you to be so skittish... But that was never the point of the dinner meeting, right? You bite your lower lip, mulling over the possibility of getting the topic of tonight's dinner back to that of your work. You look askance, to the lack of plate right before you, and then to him. "It's just a concern I had regarding budgeting for the venue," you lie, "Some of the cost estimates you'd previously requested have changed since—" You stop when you feel something touch your ankle. Sunday has leaned in closer to you to place his shoe between your feet. You look down to where his shoe must be under the table—hidden by the long tablecloth—then to him, with that static smile still on his face. Not a hint wider than he would smile at anyone else. "Isn't it peculiar?" he asks. Sunday hasn't been listening to you whatsoever. "Look around the room. Each and every table here is surrounded by strangers. These figures around us are unknown to us, and likewise we are unknown to them." Even when it's not the point of what he's saying, you can still feel that sense of malice hidden behind Sunday's teeth when he refers to the folk of Penacony. Avaricious, calloused, snobbish and cruel. Corrupt is often the term he uses, with a bite that seems to imply he finds himself distinct from it. Like a single healthy cell surrounded by cancerous tumor. The outer side of his shoe draws a line up your calf, and he continues.

"Don't you find it fascinating that all these people may glance at us—pay us no more mind than what we pay to them—and have no idea what we are to each other? Most don't even know I have a secretary," he grins. "Perhaps I enjoy keeping you as my little secret." What he says is enough to keep you silent until your food arrives.

--- a/n: thanks so much for all the notes on the last installment, everyone! hopefully a bit of worldbuilding isn't a turn-off to any of you, i'm obsessed with penacony's jazz age inspirations just as much as i am with sunday xD just for the sake of keeping things cut up right, we'll end things off here lolol tag list: @j1yu425 @crepezinhos

[lostreverb]

nighttime reading

(dad!peter maximoff x fem!reader) in where your husband's on night duty and runs into a bit of trouble trying to prep a bottle...

content: fluff (idk that's really it), daughter's name is luna b/c uhm canon ig!, might ooc or like lack of character idk I'm not great a writing peter aha..

a/n: started this WIP a while ago but the evanverse discord gave me the inspo to finish it so this is for them LOL

--

3 AM. once again the baby monitor fires up, the shrieking wails of your newborn waking you. you begin to instinctively rise from your laying position with a groan. you get about halfway up before your husband peter wraps a toned arm around you, pulling you back in.

"nggh... babe..." you protest his affections with irritated whines, knowing you need to be tending to your daughter right now not cuddling (as much as you wanted to).

peter lets out a low hum and peppers your face with soft kisses. you try to fight the impending slumber but your eyes begin to flutter through his attempts to coax you back to sleep.

"i've got'er..." he mumbles into your hair, giving you one last squeeze before getting out of bed himself and trudging across the way to the nursery.

"alright, kiddo work with me tonight we've gotta let your mama get some rest..." peter turns the soft light lamp on, walking over to the crib he so awesomely built without reading the instructions (by far one of his greatest achievements... aside from creating his daughter of course).

he leans over to see the 2 month old's tiny and delicate body tense as she cries, hands gripped in small tight fists.

with a gentle touch, he lifts luna from the crib, cradling her securely in his arms. he rocks her softly, bouncing slightly on his feet.

for a moment, the cries soften, and peter breathes a quiet sigh of relief. but then she lets out another sharp wail, a hungry, insistent cry that lets him know she’s not going to be easily soothed tonight.

peter heads downstairs with her, still adjusting to this slower way of moving. normally, he’d zip around the house at inhuman speed, but with a newborn, that’s a no-go. for the past couple months, he’s been learning to slow down for her—taking the stairs, walking instead of zooming. he’d even forced himself to learn to drive. slowing down had sucked, but for his two favorite girls he’d do anything.

in the kitchen, he opens the fridge and sighs when he realizes the last bottle is gone. all that’s left is frozen breast milk, and luna’s cries tell him that waiting for it to defrost isn’t an option. no way is he waking you up either. it’ll have to be formula.

peter opens a cabinet and grabs the formula container, peering at the label and trying to remember the steps you’d shown him. he squints at the tiny font, racking his brain. “uh… powder or water first? shit, i can’t remember…you don’t happen to remember, do you?”

he chuckles and glances down at luna his expressioin shifting when he sees her little face red and frustrated. a pang of guilt hits peter. he should’ve paid more attention when you taught him. “sorry, baby girl. i know. don’t worry, i’ll figure it out.”

he squints at the label again, bringing it close to his face. the letters on the label were pretty much illegible to his eyes, no matter how close he brought the container to them. “stupid tiny words…” he mutters. “your old man’s getting old, luna…”

peter huffs, finally accepting the inevitable, and heads to the bathroom. reaching into the bottom drawer, he pulls out a small glasses case he’s been hiding from you. using his free hand he brings the glasses up and flips them open using his mouth to slip them on. he hates how he looks in them and hates how they feel on his face, but damn... he really needed them. he stares down at the canister, finally able to read the label and prepares the bottle carefully, determined to get it right for her. no more bsing the things he couldn't read.

as he finally settles into the couch with luna nestled in his arms, feeding her the bottle he’s made, he finds himself gazing at her small face. for the first time, he can clearly see every detail—the curve of her cheeks, the faint little dimples, the perfect mix of both of you in her delicate features.

“i’m holding the most beautiful girl in the world in my arms… did you know that?” he whispers softly. luna’s innocent, unfocused eyes meet his, and she keeps suckling, making him chuckle. “ahh, i’m sure you know. your parents aren’t too bad-looking either, huh?”

“looks like i’ve been demoted from my title,” you say with a sleepy smile as you step into the kitchen. “rightfully so… she’s pretty cute.”

“she is…” peter agrees, glancing up at you with a soft smile. “but babe, you should be sleeping”

“just needed some water,” you say, moving to the sink and filling a glass.

he nods, watching you as you sip, your gaze shifting to the open formula container and his glasses, still perched on his nose. “couldn’t read the label?”

"uh- well- yeah... how did you-"

“the glasses,” you both say at the same time, sharing a laugh.

“i actually like them on you,” you say with a smirk. “honestly, it’s… kind of hot.”

peter, well aware of his bedhead, the beginnings of stubble, and his deep set eyebags, laughs. “I think you need more sleep.”

“well, maybe,” you say with a yawn. “but hey before I head back up.. I just wanted to tell you... I’m proud of you. I know you feel lost sometimes with little luna and me, but you’re doing a great job, babe. you’re a good dad.”

hearing your words, peter feels the weight of his self doubt lighten. becoming a parent scared the shit out of him, especially since he didn't really have a father figure to go off on. but hearing this from you, he feels a rush of gratitude and relief.

when you finish your drink, he takes your glass, setting it aside as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “go get some rest...”

you press a soft kiss to his lips, squeezing him in a quick hug before leaning down to gently stroke luna’s head. then you head upstairs. peter watches you go, smiling to himself, then looks down at his daughter with a chuckle.

“hey, luna,” he whispers, stroking her cheek. “you okay with your old man looking like a grandpa?”

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx @oceanblvd111 @andiloveher @vi0l3tgard3ns @evanbabybear @melsimps

[squinch-depraved]

Thinking of Schlatt and mutual masturbation/phone sex. Thinking about him just moaning into your ear from the other side of receiver and talking you through it while also getting off 💕💕💕

i like this. short but sweet hopefully :3

"'s okay if you don't wanna doll," schlatt's voice rang through the speaker pressed to your ear. "i've got plenty of pictures of you i can use."

you shook your head, forgetting he couldn't see you, and jumped onto your bed. "nono, i wanna!" you assured him as you got comfy. "it's just new, that's all."

he didn't speak, leaving you to babble on. "i'm down for- for whatever you want, i promise. i just don't know what it is you want from me yet," you rambled.

"touch yourself, doll," he ordered you simply, voice gravelly. he waited for you to do so, listening carefully for the small whimper that left your lips before beginning to stroke his cock. his eyes and yours fluttered closed at the same time, thousands of miles apart, and he grunted when you mewled into your phone's mic. "you bein' a good girl for me?"

you moaned at his words, rubbing circles into your clit as you pictured how hot he must look at his desk right now. "i'm being so good for you, j, promise," you crooned. "just wish it was your fingers instead of mine."

he groaned desperately and you could just see him bucking his hips up into his hand. "need more noise from you, toots. 's all i got right now," he instructed. you obeyed, not holding anything back, and continued producing lewd wails, crying out his name as you wished more than anything he could be here with you.

the sounds he let out were surely ones that he wouldn't let anyone else alive hear him make; only you could draw these low, frenzied moans from him. you knew this and appreciated it for what it was: him being absolutely whipped for you.

"i-i'm getting close, j," you said airily.

"me too, doll, c'mon, keep goin'. finish with me," he whined, impatient from not having you on his cock like he wanted. the two of you continued, panting and writhing, craving only each other until you cried out and gasped, unable to catch your breath for a few moments as your orgasm crashed through you. "yeahhh, attagirl, toots!" he praised you before sighing an, "ahh, fuck," and spilling all over his stomach, staining his plain black shirt.

"we gotta do that more often," you murmured hazily.

"yeah, we do, doll. it was great. you should go to bed though, 'kay? i'll call you in the morning," he agreed lovingly. you protested for a moment before he convinced you and hung up. it wasn't long before he sent you a selfie of his thick, leaking, red cock, still standing at attention against his torso and cum-stained shirt. you groaned, insatiably horny for him, and threw your phone down. there was no way you could sleep now.

[sanjoongie]

𐌕𐋅𐌄 𐌔𐋅𐌉𐌄𐌋𐌃 𐌌𐌀𐌉𐌃𐌄𐌍 𐌀𐌍𐌃 𐋅𐌄𐌓 𐌁𐌄𐌓𐌔𐌄𐌓𐌊𐌄𐌓

🐺Pairing: Berserker! San x Shield Maiden! Reader (f)

🛡Genre: smut, fluff

🐺Au: Historical Au, Viking Au, parent au

🛡Trope: established relationship (married)

🐺Word Count: 2,755

🛡Warnings: mentions of fighting, killing, blood, battle, {breast feeding}, lactation kink, breeding kink, breast play, knife play, fear kink, oral (f), penetrative sex without a barrier, pull out method, mentions of somnophilia, switch! san, switch! reader, mentions of masturbation

🐺Rated: 18+ MDNI

🛡Summary: when your husband comes back after the long raiding season, he continues his mission to keep you pregnant and away from the battlefield

🐺Author’s Note: this a self indulgent au that i have been dying to write but not finding any time to, so i decided to gift it to myself for my birthday 🥳

🛡Beta’s: @downtoamagicalland & @mejuii

"I'm home!" San bellows as he sweeps aside the sheepskin that covers the door to your home.

"Papa!" Four children's voices ring out.

You watch with amusement as your horde of children practically puppy-pile your husband in an attempt to greet him. 

San lets out his belly laugh, beyond happy. Your Viking husband places his double-handed axe against the wall and sweeps up your children, all four of them, in his arms and squeezes them until they protest. 

"I have missed you," He sighs, kissing them enthusiastically on top of their heads before letting them go.

"Papa, papa!" Your oldest, Sari, pipes up. "Mama is teaching me how to wield a sword and shield!"

San's eyes swipe towards you, grinning. "You're going to be a shield maiden like your mama?"

"I'm going to beat you one day!" Sari swears solemnly.

"I don't doubt it," San nods solemnly back.

A loud wail starts up and you cluck your tongue. “Not even five minutes after your father is home and you cause mischief?”

Your eldest boy, Taewoong, the second oldest child, looks expectedly at San while your second daughter Micha sobs.

“Son.” San takes both of Taewoong’s hands in his own. “Why would you harm your younger sister? She looks up to you to protect her.”

Taewoong shoots a look at you and then looks down at the way his father’s thumb swipes lovingly.

San sighs loudly. “Please take care of Micha. When I'm not here, you're the man of the house.”

Taewoong's lower lip juts out. “Papa!” He wails.

San looks bewildered at the sudden outburst and looks to you for help. 

“He didn't expect you to be gentle with him. I'd have given him a swat by now.”

San kisses the top of Taewoong's head and then begins to tickle Micha's ribs, eyes disappearing at the sound of her laughter, tears forgotten.

“Sari, take your brother and sister to bed now. I've got to greet your mother properly,” San orders.

The three run to their shared bed, quickly shedding their clothes until they were in their bedtime nightgowns. 

“Hello wife,” San says in a low voice. “And who is this piglet in a blanket?”

You twist your lips. “That is the newest baby you left in my stomach, Husband.”

San plucks the slumbering baby from your arms and coos at the round cheeks. “Hello, baby.”

“Will you name him now that he's been born and you're home?” You ask, waiting expectantly for his reaction to the good news.

“A boy?!” He grins. He rocks his new son as if he’s the most precious person in this world. “What’s your name, hmmm?”

“If you’ve any love for me, you’d name this one for a softer life,” You grumble.

“What about Hajoon? Perhaps he’ll take on your storytelling and be a bard or a poet!” San offers.

“Stories?” Sari pipes up from the bed. 

“Stories!” Micha echoes her older sister.

“Please?” Taewoong adds belatedly, knowing he’s already pushed enough this evening.

 San looks at you with wide eyes. You sigh and roll yours. “I always tell them stories before they sleep, you know this, you silly man.”

“My fierce shield maiden wife tells stories to our children?” San pretends to be ignorant.

“You must tell the tale of when you met Papa!” Sari insists.

“You’ve heard that more times than I care to count!’ You protest. “Surely you want a new tale now that Papa is here?”

Micha shakes her head. “No! Want stories about Papa!”

San gently slips the babe back to you. “I’ll tell the story. Mine’s much better.” 

He discards his furs and sits on the bed with his children, in simply his pants, bearing all his tattoos and scars. 

Hajoon shifts after being moved so much and he begins to whimper. “It’s okay, sweet boy,” you whisper. “Mama will feed you.”

San’s voice bounces off your walls as he launches into his version of how you two met.

“Papa was in a large battle, two major armies crashing together, it was glorious. So many men were sent to Valhalla by my axe. The battle lasted all day and all night and when the sun rose, I found myself surrounded by many other warriors still. My berserker blood rage had settled and I began to get tired and weary. Just as I felt my eyes drooping,” San pauses to roar and the children scream in delight. “I heard a battle cry and saw a Valkyrie descend from the heavens. She was heavenly, in both her beauty and her bloodlust. She carried two blades that she swung with accuracy and deadliness. She carved through many warriors until finally she appeared in front of me. I was caught in her spell and there was nothing I could do if she decided to finish me and carry me to Valhalla.”

“Mama,” Sari sends me a dirty look, as if to scold me for attempting to kill her Papa.

San laughs under his breath and then becomes serious again. “She pointed her swords at me and said, ‘you’ll become my husband’. I had no choice!”

Taewoong’s adorable face screws up in confusion. “If Mama is so good, why doesn’t she go on the raids?”

San’s eyes widen as he realizes he’s talked himself into a corner, so to speak. 

“Yes, Papa,” You say Papa as if it’s derogatory. “Tell them why Mama doesn’t fight anymore.”

San begins to pout, his signature way to speak when he knew suddenly the things weren’t going his way. “Your Mama needs to stay here with you! And protect you! What if someone came raiding here? No one is better to keep you safe than Mama.”

Micha’s lips begin to quiver at the realization that she and her siblings are in danger. San has to assure her that there is no need to be afraid and soon all the children are tucked firmly and off to slumberland.

“Papa duties complete,” San says with a proud smile.

“Good. The babe’s fallen asleep as well,” You murmur.

You place Hajoon in the sling that rocks him to sleep and tuck yourself back into your dress. Your eyes meet San’s when you catch him looking at you hungrily. 

“San,” You say his name in warning.

Your husband sweeps you up, carrying you in his capable arms and brings you to your bed, on the opposite side of the house. He keeps himself aloft over you, but his lower half pins you in place. 

“I missed you,” he whispers and then collapses his weight on you. 

His head is tucked in between your shoulder and head and you pat his head reassuringly. “I missed you too, husband.”

“The birth wasn’t too hard?” San wonders, rubbing his cheek against your skin. 

“It was fine, San,” You say, moving your hand down to his back to absentmindedly run your fingers along his spine.

For a moment, you trace his scars from memory. He was acquiring new ones that you hadn't witnessed and it sent a pang to your heart. You missed the days when you used to battle at San’s side and then fuck with the blood of your enemies still wet on your skin. 

“Would you have told our children the true reason I remain at home?” You can’t help but wonder.

San raises his head and you watch an unfamiliar emotion cross his eyes: fear. “I was convinced for the longest time that you would become jealous and think I had found another lover. I dreamt of you slitting my throat with a savage grin while I slept.”

“San, that’s absolutely ridiculous,” You deny. “First of all, if I was going to kill you, I would make sure that you were awake for it, especially if I thought you were cheating on me.”

San puts a finger to your lips to halt whatever you were going to say secondly. “But now it’s because I love our horde of children. But I love it even more when you’re heavy with child and I can just fuck you whenever I want. I love your body when you’re full with a child.”

“San,” you say his name hoarsely. Damn Viking man and his breeding kink. 

His eyes wander down your body to your chest and he cups one of your breasts. “Let me suckle from your breast, love,” he whispers naughtily.

“The babe needs that milk!” 

San smiles mischievously. “He can have the other breast. This one is mine.”

Your viking husband pulls the top of your dress down your arms, effectively both trapping your arms in place and spilling your breasts to him. One leaks with milk, where Hajoon had been feeding, and San moans quietly.

“San, the children!” You protest one more time.

“Shhhh,” San hushes you, “The babes don’t understand. Besides, if you’re quiet enough, they won’t wake.”

You whimper as San takes one breast into his mouth, tongue lapping at the tip, and then begins to suck to pull the milk from it. His blunt fingernail plays with the areola of the other, bringing it to a point as well. After months of being on your own, your back arches as the familiar touch of your husband practically burns into your skin.

“My poor wife,” San chuckles lowly. “You need the touch of your husband to bring you back to life?”

“Please, don’t stop,” You murmur and San doesn’t.

His treatment of your breasts, weighting them in his palm, and squeezing them softly, was almost akin to adoration. He was careful to not be rough, aware of just how sensitive you were now that you were fresh from a birth and breastfeeding. 

With your milk still on his lips, San continues to tease you verbally. “I bet you’re aching and wet for me, aren’t you, love of my life?”

Your thighs clench at his words. “I brought myself with my fingers a few times once you were gone. You know how gooey I am when I’m pregnant.”

San groans, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before he moves down your body, abandoning your breasts at the thought of your wet cunt. On his way down, he pays homage to every piece of skin he passes. Any scar or cellulite or stretch mark gets kisses as well. 

The way San makes love to your body would be the proof that your husband would never cheat on you. Then again, the way San makes love to your body would also be a key motivator to ensure he never did the same with anyone else. 

San peppers your mound and out lips with kisses, murmuring praise against your sensitive skin. “Daddy missed you,” escaping his lips once or twice.

You snicker under your breath which quickly turns into a breathy whine as San places a tender kiss right on your clit. Then his tongue delves into your folds, tracing your inner lips and tasting you. He takes his time, re-learning every crease and dip of your cunt. It’s equal parts coming back home and giving you what you missed.

Your core is aching as San tongues your hole, using it to stretch you a bit, but mostly to wind you up. Just when you think he’s going to climb back up your body and fill you up with his cock, he halts his progress to flick and circle your clit. You growl in frustration and dig your hand into his hair. 

“If you don’t fuck me right this second, I’m going to milk you for all your worth and they will have a husk of a man to send back out when raiding seasons starts again,” You threaten.

A flash of fear permeates San’s eyes. “Yes, wife,” he replies demurely.

You take the lead, flipping the two of you so that you are on top now. San’s hair briefly fans out above his head and his dark eyes take you in. 

“Take your pleasure from me, queen,” San says huskily.

You lift an eyebrow in question as you begin to rub your wet folds against San’s erect cock lying against his stomach. “Don’t you mean valkyrie?”

San’s eyes slid to the side as he witnesses you pull your knife from under the pillow he was on. His eyes widen and he holds himself still. “I’ll call you whatever you want, shield maiden. Take from me what you what, simply leave me alive another day to feel your sweet cunt wrapped around me.”

“This sweet cunt has given you more than enough babies, San,” You say in a low voice. You begin to move your hips only as the flat of your blade is brought against San’s throat. 

San’s Adam’s apple bobs deliciously in anxiousness. “If I keep you pregnant with my babies, you’ll stay off the battlefield. You terrify me, wife of mine. Your bloodlust makes me look like a fawn who does not know danger.”

You lean forward, still tilting your hips in leisure. “Are you saying you fear your wife? The mother of your children?”

“I fear the shield maiden who stole my heart and is just as capable of breaking open my rib cage and stealing it again,” San whispers. 

You felt your inner fire, your warrior’s soul, light up with those words. Your hips began to move with more vigor, a delighted grin opening your lips. “Good, that’s how I prefer you.”

San groans loudly, his eyes rolling into the back of his head with pleasure as you bounce more enthusiastically against his pelvis. He slaps his hand over his mouth, aware that now he might wake the children. His eyes are wide with worry as you continue to ride his pronounced hips. 

With your fervor activity, your short sword makes a line along San’s neck and his pupils blow out. Nothing like enacting the bloodlust during a fuck to get both of your blood going. 

“Dare you come inside me, husband?” You purr quietly. “With my sword against your neck so pretty like?”

San whines behind his hand at your words. You can feel his pelvis muscles flexing with each time your ass meets his hips, so that he can fuck you harder, or at least, give you more. 

Meanwhile, with each stroke of San’s girthy cock inside of you, you can feel your orgasm coming within your grasp. You withdraw your sword from San’s neck just in time as it hits. You arch your back, a silent cry releasing from your lips, your sought after climax finally ripping through you. It’s everything you had dreamed about while your husband had been raiding.

San, fast as lightning, flips you over before the vice grip of your pussy pushes him over the edge inside of you. He comes with his teeth dug into his bottom lip, fisting his cock and his seed spurts over your mound and your lower stomach. He pants as he continues to dirty your body, fist moving slower and slower as his high leaves him.

He grins, shoulders moving with each breath. “Now that was a welcome home fuck.”

You stand up to find the bowl you keep of water and a rag. Often you clean yourself up from the mess of the milk from your breasts so it’s no added labor to wash San’s cum from your body too. 

“You are a debased man, husband of mine,” You murmur under your breath.

“That’s why you married me!” San protests. 

“The breast milk is new,” You throw over your shoulder. 

San scratches the back of his head, still crouching on the bed, his legs under his body. “I love every part of you,” He admits, “Why not that too?”

Once you settle back into bed, San cleans himself up too and then settles behind you pulling your body flush with his. He nuzzles your shoulder and hums contently. “Are you sure I can’t convince you to make another baby with me?”

You sigh, still rolling your eyes at San’s antics. “Why don’t we play a game? If you can fuck me while I sleep without waking me, you can fill me up to your hearts content. And if I wake up then, you better be ready to finish with your mouth.”

You can practically hear the glee in San’s voice when he replies. “And that’s why I married you.”

And then he’s snoring like he doesn’t have a care in the world. You find yourself drifting off to sleep as well, feeling safe and happy in San’s arms.

[the20thangel]

The Dragon and The Raven Chapter 12: Funeral Pyre and New Beginnings

Chapter Summary: As the Targaryen, Velayrons, and Blackwoods say goodbye to Prince Jacaerys, a new life begins. A baby for House Blackwood and Targaryen. A new rider for Seasmoke.

Tags: Child birth, funeral

Word count: 3.8k

Taglist: @callsignwidow @whimsicalmystic02 @mercedesdecorazon @rhaenyrathecruelwithteats @ithilwen-blackwood @poppyflower-22 @alastorhazbin

(please let me know if I missed someone)

Keep track of the story: Masterlist

Wails of pain rang out throughout the halls of Dragonstone. Maids and servants go in and out of Princess Aemma's birthing chamber. The princess lay on the bed, sweating, her hair messy and knotted. As she took haggard breaths in between sobs, she tried her best to push her child out of her body, but no matter how much she did, they would not come. Her Grandmother, Princess Rhaenys, with tears running down her face, tried as best she could to comfort her sea dragon, but to no avail. 

“Please…please… I want him…please,” begged Aemma, reaching her hand out for the person she was looking desperately looking for. 

Elinda sobs as she turns away, memories of Rhaenyra’s tragic birth of Visneya coming back to her mind. Her Queen and Princess, history repeating itself. She could only pray that the gods would be merciful this time to help the princess give birth to her child. 

“My princess, he will come soon. You must push for your son,” the midwife pleaded, unsure if she was talking about her child or her husband. Poor child, the midwife thought. 

Aemma just sobbed more, trying her best to be strong, and gave another weak push before the midwives made her stop, telling her to rest for a while. All were getting worried; it had been nearly ten hours and nothing. As Rhaenys moved the hair from her granddaughter's face, Aemma turned to her; her heart broke even more from seeing her in such a state. 

Rhaenys turned and quietly asked a servant if she knew where the queen was. The servant girl answered, saying the queen was still with the prince’s body. Rhaenys exhaled through her nose. She could not imagine being Rhaenyra and choosing where to be with her daughter or son. She nodded to the girl and focused again on Aemma, leaning in to hear what the princess was whispering. 

Aemma turned to her grandmother, grasping at her hand when another wave of pain hit her, trying her best not to push since the midwives told her to hold in. She quietly began to whisper.

“Please, bring him to me…” pleaded Aemma, her brows creasing from the pain. 

“Who sweet, girl… who are you asking for…” Pondered Rhaenys, looking for answers as the princess gave a loud groan of pain. 

Groaning, Aemma raised her voice into a scream: " Him… jace… Luke… BEN… I WANT THEM HERE……AH!” 

Aemma could no longer hold it; she needed to push. Raising her body, she pushed with all her might, pleading for her babe to get out. Still, nothing came as the princess flopped herself to the bed, exhausted. Rhaenys, feeling helpless, began to shout to the midwives and the maesters to find something, a drink, an herb, or a technique to help the princess. 

In the corner, she silently stood, Baela, watching her step-sister struggle to bring life into the world. She could not help but feel in awe of Aemma’s strength she was displaying given the circumstances. Even if it didn’t look like it, to keep pushing and not giving up, she didn’t know if she would have been able to if she was in her position. Seeing Aemma plead again, Baela decided she needed to help, and the only way she could think about was to bring Benjicot faster to Dragonstone. Baela pushed through the crowd, ignoring the protests as she leaned into Aemma’s ear, whispering her plan. Aemma panted, looking at her, and with a weary smile, she nodded, encouraging Balea to run out of the room. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rhaenyra was silent, crying on her son’s cold chest. Jacaerys’ body was moved to his chambers, and a few maids volunteered to prepare the prince’s body for his funeral pyre. As Rhaenyra mourned, her heart clenched with every wail she heard coming from Aemma’s birthing chamber. She was torn; she wanted to be there for her little girl, but her body would not move. As she took another shaky breath, a servant came in quietly. She whispered to her Queen that the maesters were becoming worried for Princess Aemma’s health. She was getting weaker and weaker as the hours progressed, with no sign of her babe coming out. They wanted to consult with the queen for the next course of action. 

This made Rhaenyra's blood freeze; surely they wouldn’t dare to advise her… she would never do what her father did to her mother…Never. Becoming angry, Rhaenyra asked the maids to prepare her son as she hurried down the hall into Aemma’s chambers. Rhaenyra recoiled at the scent of blood coming out of the room.  She nearly sobbed, seeing her darling girl suffering, pushing her way to her daughter’s side. She quickly kissed her brow, letting her know she was finally here for her daughter. 

Aemma whimpered as her mother kissed her brow; she was terrified. 

“Muna…please…I can’t do it anymore…I… I don’t want to die…” cried Aemma, closing her eyes in despair as her mother hushed her. 

“Don’t speak like that, my pearl, you will not die… you are the blood of the dragon…you are fierce and strong.” comforted Rhaenyra, sorrowful as she saw her daughter shake her head. 

“I heard the maesters… they fear…my babe could die…please help me, Muna,” slurred the princess, her chest falling up and down heavily. 

Rhaenys and Rhaenyra glared at the maester, who started sweating at the sight of the intensity of the purple eyes. 

Rhaenyra kissed her daughter’s crown, turning her face as she spoke, “Yes, you can. You are Crown Princess Aemma Velayron of Houses Targaryen and Velayron. You have the Blood of Old Valyria. You do not hide from battle but go headfirst to protect those you love. This is a different battle, but nonetheless, this is a battlefield we women face at one point in our lives. You must track through this battle with the confidence and strength of a dragon. Your babe is ready to come into this world. They felt your sorrow and wanted to comfort you. I will be here, and I know I am not who you wish to be on your side right now, but when your babe finally enters, I will gladly place them in your arms. You both will survive this battle, so when I say go, you will take a great inhale and push with all your might.” 

Aemma nodded at her mother, feeling a new strength come over her. As Rhaenyra commanded her, she inhaled, pressing all her might, letting out a gruntle yell, and began pushing again. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Benjicot was anxious, but he couldn’t pinpoint the reason why. He just woke up with the sensation. He felt that maybe Harrenhal was starting to affect him, but he also thought it might be that he had yet to receive a raven back from Aemma. It was not like her to wait too long to reply to his ravens. Aly tried to calm him, claiming that Aemma might have been busy or too tired to respond as quickly as before. As he tried to convince himself, he couldn't help but let his mind wander. Benji was breaking his fast with his good father, Cregan, and his aunt. He thought he heard dragon wings in the distance as he pushed his food around. When a servant came running in, holding a raven for Daemon. Demon slowly raised his head, looking tired again, and opened the letter. Before the Rouge Prince could start reading, Baela burst into the hall, causing everyone to stiffen. 

Daemon stood shocked, “Daughter, why are-”

Baela shook her head, tears streaming down her face; she turned to Benjioct, whose heart dropped to his stomach. Did something happen to Aemma? 

“Ben, you need to come with me quick, Aemma… she is struggling to give birth, and Jace-” Baela couldn’t finish her sentence as a sob ripped out of her throat. 

Benjicot stood with such force, his chair banging on the floor, that he ran to Baela, grabbed her arms, and shook her. 

“What happened? Aemma is not due yet, so why does Jacaerys have to do with her giving birth?”

“Benjicot, unhand her!” cried Aly as she ran and separated her nephew from the lady. 

She understood him and was worried for the princess, but getting upset at Lady Baela would not answer anything. 

Daemon looks at the scene in front of him, nearly wanting to slice the Blackwood lord for roughing handling his daughter. When he glanced at the letter that burned to be opened and read, it was from Dragonstone; quickly, he opened the letter, his blood running cold as he read. Jace was dead, and Aemma, in her anguish, began her births early. His son was dead, and his daughter was fighting for her and her child’s life. His dragons… Daemon shouted angrily as he slammed his fist on the table, causing everyone to pause, looking at the King Consort in fear. 

Swirling, he faces his daughter with grief-stricken disbelief. Baela sucked in a short breath, knowing that her father now knew what was happening to their family. She nodded in confirmation to her father. 

Daemon was conflicted about leaving Harrenhal and possibly giving the greens the advantage over the Riverlands or going to his family in their most dire need. Baela saw her father’s internal battle, but she did not care; if he wanted to contemplate what he believed was more important, he could stay, but Aemma needed her husband. 

“Please, Ben, just come. I’ll explain everything on the way; you just need to go to Dragonstone.” beseeched Baela, hoping he would quickly follow. 

Benjicot nodded as he turned to his aunt, who wordlessly confirmed she would stay and take charge of House Blackwood until his return. His wife and child came first. As Balea and Ben ran out of the hall, ignoring the concerned looks of the men, Baela walked to Moondancer, asking her dragon for this once to allow a second passenger. As the dragon gazed at the lord, Benji stood cautiously. He wanted to get to his wife fast, but he knew better than to rush to a dragon unless he wanted to risk being decapitated. Moondancer crawled his body to the lord, analyzing Benji and sniffing, judging if he should be allowed. After a moment, Moondancer lowered his body, permitting Baela and Benjicot to climb him. Quickly, the two sat themselves, Baela noticing Caraxes going to the entrance of the ruined fortress, with a figure running towards the long-necked dragon. Giving the command, Moondancer soared into the air, flying as fast as he could to Dragonstone. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Back at the castle, Rhaenyra and Rhaenys grinded their teeth through the pain in their hands. Aemma had a death grip on them as she continued to push. Both women guided her breathing to ensure she placed the correct energy in her pushing. The midwives started expressing joy to the Targaryen women; the babe's head was out, and two more pushes should be enough to bring the child out of the princess's body. 

Rhaenyra sobbed in relief. She turned to Aemma, “You are so close ñuha prūmia, nearly there, two more pushes.” 

Aemma nodded as she breathed in; she raised her body again and gave a push, feeling some tension slowly releasing, everyone around her expressing joy; her babe was almost here. As she prepared for her final push, she began to hear Sliverwing, Syrax, Vermithor, and Seasmoke singing. All dragons were feeling the emotions of their riders. With one final yell, the tension was released. The midwives' relieved cheers resounded through the air as a small whimper leading into a wail lifted the hearts of those in the room. 

“A boy, my princess! A beautiful boy!” celebrated Elinda Massey, who handed the baby to Rhaenyra. 

Rhaenyra let tears flow down her cheeks; she was a grandmother. Her heart broke slightly as she took in the baby’s features. He looked so much like Lucerys, Jacaerys, and Joffrey when they were born. She kissed the babe’s crown, turning to her tired daughter. 

Aemma was leaning on pillows stacked behind her back, and seeing her mother’s tears also made her emotional. Her boy was here, but not his father. She felt guilty that Benji missed their son's birth, but as the baby was placed in her arms, she thought it was worth it. He was perfect; he had lighter skin than hers, and Ben’s beautiful dark hair seemed to want to curl like hers and her brother’s. As she caressed his face, her baby opened his eyes, purple staring at purple. Aemma grinned as she kissed her son's forehead, causing the baby to sigh and snuggle to his mother’s chest. 

Outside the window, Seasmoke passed the room, chirping and singing. The dragon knew his rider was finally in the world. Aemma tearily grinned, hearing her father’s now son’s dragon coming to greet her son. As she let Rhaneys take him to the window for Seasmoke to see. Aemma finally let herself grieve. Yes, she was happy her son was alive and in her arms, but her brother was gone. Her brother, who, as a child, expressed how he wanted their children to have a close bond like siblings. Her brother, who confessed to her a moon ago, would petition to marry Baela quickly because he and Baela wanted to give a cousin to her son. 

She barely accepted that Luke wouldn’t be here, and now she had to admit that Jace wouldn’t either. She cried for her sweet brothers. The world was too cruel for them. They could not help the circumstances of their birth or their hair color. She knew the rumors about Ser Harwin and her mother but did not care. Jacaerys and Lucerys were her brothers; Laenor raised both. That was all that should have mattered, but a bitter green queen ruined everything. Now, because of her and her poisoned words, her brothers were gone. 

Rheanyra, seeing her daughter’s tears, hugged her, hushing and comforting her.

“I know, sweet girl, I wish they were here too,” she whispered as she kissed her cheek. 

Aemma weakly smiled at her mother, taking her baby back from her grandmother. As she began to feed him, she turned back to them. 

“I wish to see him…” Aemma muttered. 

Rhaenyra and Rhaenys share a look. They knew she would want to see Jace, but she should not put too much strain on herself, not after such hard labor. 

Rhaenys sighed, “I know, but you will need to wait. You had a difficult labor, and your body is still weak. Let your body rest and bond with your boy. Then we will help you see your brother. Nothing will be done until Baela returns,” Rhaenys assured her as she combed her granddaughter's hair. 

Aemma sighed, knowing they were right. Feeling tired, she asked her mother to keep her son safe. Laying down, while closing her eyes, she wished Ben was here. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After a day, two dragons arrived in Dragonstone, with three people jumping off and running to the castle. As Ben burst into the castle, making a maid jump in fright, he quickly apologized, asking her where Princess Aemma was. The maid answered that the whole family was in Prince Jacaerys chambers. Nodding, he followed his good father and Baela to Jace’s room. As the guard opened the door, they saw a melancholy sight. Aemma was sitting to Jace’s right, holding a red and black bundle in her arms. Rhaenyra is behind her daughter, leaning on the wall with her eyes closed. To the left were Corlys and Rhaenys, with Rhaneys humming a lullaby, staring at Jace.  In the foot of the bed stood Addam and Alyn Velayron with their heads bowed.

 Hearing the chambers open, Aemma raised her sight, gasping at the people. Everyone turned and nodded at the three. Ben first moved to his wife, stopping to bow to his good mother before turning to Aemma, kneeling in front of her. Aemma smiled at him, looking at him with love and grief. 

“You’re finally here…” whispered Aemma, leaning into her husband’s kiss, making sure not to squish their son. 

Benji gave another kiss and apologized for not being at her side sooner, which Aemma waved off; he couldn’t have known. As she moved slightly back, she rose from her seat, telling her mother she would take a walk with Benjicot. As the queen nodded, Ben took hold of his wife and left the Prince’s room. As they walked out to the courtyard, Ben stared at his son. He had a son; looking at him, he couldn’t tell if he looked more like him or Aemma. 

Aemma, seeing his gaze, smiled and kissed her son’s cheek, making the baby stretch and open his eyes. The baby stared at his father for the first time. As Ben took in his son’s eyes, he rejoiced; he had hoped their children would inherit Aemma’s eye color. Expressing his thoughts, Aemma let out a quiet giggle. 

“He may have my eyes, but he is pure Blackwood, just like his father,” Aemma explained happily. She loved how, every day, her son looked more and more like Ben. Of course, there were a few differences, mainly in his hair texture; her son was graced with her curls. 

As the princess handed her son to Ben, Seasmoke sang again, landing in the quiet courtyard with as much grace as a dragon could have. Crawling to the small family, he sniffed Benjioct briefly before turning his head to their son. The babe turned his purple eyes to the grey dragon, his face scrunching as he yawned, snuggling further into his father’s arms. 

Aemma smiled, “I fear we will never be able to separate them once he is older.” 

Benji smiled; he did not mind if it meant his boy would always be protected. As the family and dragon stood in tranquility, Aemma turned to Benji. 

“He needs a name; I did not want to give him one without your input.” 

Benjicot smiled at her, touched by how much she thought of him. He hummed while looking at his son; he would once ask for him to be named after his twin, Davos, but looking at him now. His son did not seem like a Davos. As he suggested Jacaerys or Lucerys, Aemma teared up, shaking her head. 

“No, he doesn’t look like a Jace or Luke…I don’t think I could name my child after my brothers, at least not yet… it's too soon.” 

Benji smirked slightly, teasing his wife, “But maybe one day if we have more children.” 

Aemma flushed at her husband’s teasing, “I will have all the children you wish to give me, my love. I will proudly carry them as long as my body permits me to.” 

Benji groaned at his princess's words, kissing her lips. If only she knew how much power she had over him. He would give every babe she desired from him. Smiling into his kiss, the dragon princess separated herself, returning to the question of names. 

Trying to remember the names he briefly read from a Valyrian book here, he remembered one that he felt could still honor Jace. 

“What about Jaesys… it still a unique name while honoring your brother?” said Benji, looking at his wife’s reaction. 

Aemma’s eyes widened to her son, Jaesys; she liked the name. Touched by Ben's always-considerate nature, she smiled and agreed. Jaesys Blackwood, first of his name, heir to House Blackwood and the scion of houses Velayron and Targaryen. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After Aemma and Benjicot left, everyone else besides the queen departed to prepare for the Prince’s funeral. Walking to his son, seeing his ghostly color and closed eyes, Daemon wanted to rage; another of his boys was lost to those greens. In the background, Rhaenyra stared at her husband, wishing she could understand his thoughts. She was upset with him yes, but it did not mean she stopped loving him. Walking to sit next to her son, she saw Daemon walk closer to her. He kneeled infront of her as he took Jace’s hand, crying at the loss. 

Here was another reason she loved him: even if he did not sire them, Daemon loved every single one of her children from her first marriage, taking them as his own and loving them as fiercely as he did with his daughters from Laena. Both parents closed their eyes, mourning their dutiful and caring son. 

Rising, he gazed at his wife. Daemon stood, kissing her on her cheek, making Rhaenyra look at him. 

“I love you…” he stated, taking a loose strain in his hands. 

Rhaenyra tearfully smiled at her husband, “I love you.” she assured him. 

She did love him; she was just upset at his actions. He was rash, doing things he meant to show as a sign of his love and protection without seeing the more immense consequences. Nevertheless, she loved him; he was her blood-bonded husband and twin flame, always burning for each other. 

“They will pay for this… the greens-” 

“Shh…” interrupted Rhaenyra, taking her husband’s head to her chest as they both began to cry again. She knew this was his way of grieving, but they would not talk about revenge, not today. Today was just about saying goodbye to their son. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Houses Blackwood, Targaryen, and Velayron stood by the cliff, looking at the pyre holding Prince Jacaerys’ body. Daemon and Rhaenyra were at the front, with Aemma, Baela, Jaesys, and Benjicot at the queen’s side. Ben was holding the babe as Aemma and Balea leaned onto each other. Corlys, Rhaneys, Addam, and Alyn at Daemon’s side. All were looking at the prince with sadness. Corlys looked to his family, clearing his throat; he would be the one to give the speech before someone lit the pyre. 

“Prince Jacaerys was a true prince. He knew the hardships of duty and never faltered from them. He knew what he needed to do to support his family, fighting bravely for them. But he was more than that; he loved fiercely. His duty was based on love. Everyone here was touched by his love in some shape and form. We mourn the kind, respectful, honorable, loving, and fierce prince. We hope his family that has passed will greet him in the Realm of Balerion. May his soul rest.” 

Everyone bowed their heads with tears streaming down their faces. As they turned to Rhaenyra, she sobbed, closing her eyes. She couldn’t do it… she could not light this pyre had she not done it enough times already. As they all saw her struggle, Aemma walked forward, her eyes red from crying. She looked at all the dragons present: Sliverwing, Vermithor, Grey Ghost, Caraxes, Syrax, Seasmoke, and Moondancer. All dragons stared at her, gulping at their power; she turned back to her brother’s body, Whispering the words Dracarys. 

A beat passed, and then all gasped as Seasmoke walked up first, blowing a short flame to the pyre. Leanor’s dragon said goodbye, and as Seasmoke stepped back, each dragon took turns stepping up and breathing more fire into the pyre, ending with Syrax. As the golden lady finished sending her flames, she screeched, leading the other dragons to screech, all seemingly mourning like their riders for the Dragon Prince. 

Daemon stared at the flames as he whispered, “He was a true dragon.”

[aemnds]

⎯ 𝐏𝐎𝐈𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒.

❛ ♡. gif credit.

★ ⎯⎯ aemond targaryen is needy for his wife.

◜ ♡ ⃗ ⎯⎯ [11:40 am — aemond targaryen]

“so soft… so warm, gods— you were made for me,” aemond praises in a low murmur, pressing wet kisses along her quivering thighs, breathy moans escaping his pretty, little wife’s lips as he ravished her with teasing, wet kisses— never truly touching the place where they both knew she needed him the most.

“tell me, sweetling,” he demands, but his voice is soft and teasing— almost like a lover’s caress.

“how much do you want me to eat your sweet, little cunt.. hm?” he asks conversationally, as if he weren’t pressing open-mouthed kisses closer and closer towards her wet cunt— instead, he decided to torture her with his pillowy lips and press loving kisses along her inner thighs, happily taking his time and enjoying every second of his begging, little wife.

if there was one thing for certain— aemond targaryen loved and adored his wife… and most of all, he absolutely loved feasting on her sweet, honeyed cunt -- for it was his and belonged only to him.

she whimpered, grasping the silk, cream colored sheets below her with her head tilted back against his pillows, doe eyes shut in bliss.

“please, p-please, please— husband, do not punish me so… i need you,” she answers breathily -- needy, breathy moans escaping her pink, swollen lips.

perhaps, he would have to have her suck his cock more often… if this is what she would become afterwards— his dirty, desperate, little whore.

the sight of her was absolutely breathtaking, delirious with pleasure, cunt oozing sweet cream and swollen lips from sucking and licking his poor, aching cock was enough to drive him insane with lust and desire for her.

aemond hummed, never taking his sharp eye off of her.

“perhaps, you’re right, my beloved wife— i have been too greedy with you… mayhaps, i shall give you a treat for all of your efforts and devour your little cunt, hm?” he asks teasingly, running a long, index finger along her soaked, silky folds, hearing her breath hitch and her body visibly twitch from his touch as a gush of her sweet arousal gushed out of her little, fuck hole.

it seemed no matter how many times he had fucked his little wife, her little cunt remained tight— just like a virgin and just the way he preferred.

“hm, yes— i think that shall do quite nicely… don’t you think, sweetling?” he cooed, before lowering his face and running his hot tongue through her silky folds repeatedly, humming in satisfaction at her sweet, honeyed taste on his tongue.

she moaned loudly, gripping the silk sheets until her knuckles turned white. “oh, gods…!” she wails, her plump lips parting as sweet moans escaped her, her hips thrusting upwards to gain more friction from his mouth.

“aemond, aemond, aemond,” she pleaded, her voice so sweet and innocent. “please, please— do not stop, oh!” she sobbed, feeling his plush lips circle around her throbbing, aching clit and beginning to suck on it greedily— giving it the attention it so angrily demanded.

“i wish to propose an idea that i think you might enjoy— i shall eat your little cunt until you come over and over and over again… and if you so much as make a sound…” he says huskily, an amused smirk curling across his glistening lips from her sweetened arousal.

“well,” he drawls, looking up at his wife’s heaving, perky breasts with a dilated, amethyst eye that darkened hungrily for her.

“...i dare say that we shall have to begin all over again,” he murmured softly— hearing her whine in protest, making him slap her needy, drooling cunt in punishment, chuckling deeply at the girlish yelp that escaped her.

“shh, shh— my sweet wife, everything will be alright,” he cooed, as if calming one of their many babes that she had provided for him ever since they’ve married.

“you must behave, my love— otherwise, i will punish you… do you understand me, sweetheart?” he asks, his voice low and soothing, though there was a hidden darkness behind it.

his wife nodded eagerly, always ready to please her husband.

“yes, y-yes…aemond! i promise to be your obedient, little wife,” she babbles sweetly, her voice needy and desperate for him.

aemond grinned, his sapphire eye glinting with mischief and desire. “good, good… my sweet darling, you’re already doing so, so well,” he coos again— slipping two, long and calloused fingers inside of her little, fluttering fuck hole, feeling her arousal gush around his deft fingers and her velvety walls squeeze his fingers tightly.

“hm, i dare say that you’re ready— don’t you think, sweet girl?” he asks sweetly, though his tone is anything but— if anything, it sounds sickeningly sweet and condescending.

she gasped loudly as he shoved two of his fingers inside of her, her walls clamping down on them eagerly— as if to never let him escape.

“yes, yes… i-i am ready,” she says, her voice trembling as a small sob escaped her, her little belly already beginning to coil into knots of pleasure.

aemond hummed, looking up at his beautiful wife from between her spread legs, exactly where he was laying between them— where he belonged, and could spend hours feasting on her sweet cunt.

grinning in delight, he slowly began to pump his two, long fingers in and out inside of her oozing cunt, making her wail in pleasure and squirm from her euphoric state.

he smirked, his mind kept repeating the words -- ‘mine, mine, mine— all mine.. my sweet, devoted wife… all fucking mine’— they kept repeating in his crazed, possessive mind.

aemond chuckled, before giving his wife’s little, aching clit a harsh suck, before kissing it tenderly as he heard her whimper in agonizing pleasure.

the wayward prince gave a small nod, his lips forming into a small smile and his eye glowing as he took in his wife’s beauty, his cock twitching and throbbing once more as he eyed her swollen, glistening cunt.

“good— let us begin then, my darling.”

[matchamida]

kenma’s smashing birthday

the nekoma team thinks you should really watch what you say. [a short kozume kenma x reader]

“Hey Kenma, wanna smash on your birthday?”

A horrid silence settles amongst the boys as they stop in their tracks and swerve their heads to you.

Taketora trips on his laces.

“Listen here,” Kuroo begins dryly. “Because you’re my friend, and I know how your brain works, I understand what you mean.”

“And what exactly could it mean?” Yaku squawks with a reddening face.

“Smash?” you clarify. “It’s a—”

“I know what smashing is!”

Kuroo throws back his head and laughs.

“Shut up! Ugh, I never thought I’d have to say that sentence out loud…”

“Sorry, what’d you say out loud?”

“I’m not falling for that. And you!” Yaku redirects his glare in your direction. “We’re in public! Think before you speak, will you? You’re attracting attention!”

Kai smiles politely. “Yaku-san. I don’t mean any disrespect, but it’s your volume that’s causing people to look at us…”

“…we need to move, now.”

“Wait, I need to tie my shoe.”

“Tora, for the love of god, you have ten seconds.”

“I’m hungry.”

“Lev, you bastard, we just had yakisoba. You had three plates. Gah, you monstrous beanstalks and your appetites.”

“I’m sorry you’re not a part of the beanstalk club,” Kuroo offers somberly. “You see, we only accept qualified members, which you’re clearly not.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be qualified when there’s an old rooster on board. With no taste in protein, I might add.”

Kuroo smiles, but his eyes don’t. “Lev, what do you feel like eating? Your options are either boring meat, or healthy, tasty, good-for-your-brain fish?”

The two impatiently wait for their favored answer.

“…since when did Nekoma have a beanstalk club?” Lev ponders.

“…Fish it is.”

Yaku sighs irritatedly. “Tora, you done?”

“Uh, not yet.”

“What—it’s been five minutes! How are you still tying your shoe?”

“S-sorry! It’s just that g-g-guh-GUHHHH-HUHHH-girl over there keeps staring at me and it’s making me nervous!”

“Are you struggling because she’s staring or is she staring because you’re struggling.”

“Both…” Yamamoto wails pitifully.

“Taketora-senpai, I’ll cover you from her eyesight!” And Lev stands very close to Yamamoto’s head to tower over his kneeling figure.

“Get away from my/his face, you idiot!” Yamamoto and Yaku shriek in mortification, prompting more people to look over.

“We’re not doing anything inappropriate,” Kai informs a staring passerby. “We’re okay,” he adds as Yaku attempts to pull Lev away, only to stumble and knock Lev onto Taketora. “Really, we’re fine,” Kai concludes as all three boys collapse like bowling pins.

Kuroo sighs haggardly, and looks over to you. “Now look at what you’ve done.”

You lay a steely gaze on the rooster enabler. “Like you weren’t a part of it.”

“Hey, I wasn’t the one who started it.”

“I just asked a question! Oh yeah, hey Kenma—”

“You’re all idiots,” Kenma finally says, emerging from the corner he vanished to earlier. “If everyone wants to treat me on my birthday, the least you all can do is behave and not act like animals.”

“I’m behaving,” you protest. “I'm doing a good job of it.”

Kenma shoots you a sour look. “Not doing a good job of being mindful. Do you ever think about what comes out of your mouth?”

“Huh? All I asked was if you wanted to smash on your birthday. We can have the team join us if you want.”

Kuroo coughs. Kenma looks ready to vanish again. In fact, you think he’s turning transparent as you speak.

“…I’m not asking too much, am I,” he mutters.

“Sooo.” You shuffle in disappointment. “No smash?”

Here, Kenma gains his full opacity back.

“YES, we can PLAY SUPER SMASH BROTHERS! Don’t be so weird about it. Besides, I’d… never say no to you…”

The bowling pins stop their squabbling and look over, understanding finally dawning on their faces.

“You couldn’t have clarified that earlier?” Yaku demands.

And here, Kenma deflates, spent from raising his voice and interacting in general. He slinks back into his corner. Kuroo inhales, and lets out another sigh like the old man he is.

“Now that that’s over with,” he says, grinning faintly, “ready for some birthday smash?”

“Always,” you say warmly.

“Do not,” Yaku warns. “Let’s get out of here already. Lev, Tora, up!”

“Um, Yaku-san.”

“Tora, what now?!”

“I need to tie my other shoe.”