#Lion/reader

[mothiir]

LMFAO all i can imagine now is lion so lost in the sauce eating her out hes reverted mentally to an actual lion on an antelope carcass, bro growling n shit when she tries to like shift away like NO this is mine DONT YOU FUCKING MOVE

this is beautiful and totally true. please enjoy the following fic snippet, which occurs the same night as the first one, because the lion does not fuck around.

cw: slight dubcon, size kink, slight gore.

Even when ensconced between your thighs, his tongue buried inside your cunt, the Lion is terrifying.

It starts out promisingly enough. He licks into you, sloppy and eager, enthusiasm winning out where his skill lacks (the fact that his tongue is large enough to lash across your clit each time by sheer chance helps), and before you have quite registered what is happening he’s wrung an orgasm from you. Your body convulses, your breath quickens, and you mewl helplessly. You swear you feel the Lion smirk against your soft flesh — but you cannot imagine the Primarch doing something so human, so petty.

Maybe you’re delirious. Maybe this is all a fever dream.

The problem is that he keeps going. He sucks and licks and when you — quite against your better judgement — start rocking your hips against his face, he purrs. “That’s it,” he rumbles approvingly, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Like that. Open yourself for me, little whore.”

Whore — oh the fucking nerve of it. The cheek! You had a respectable job and a decent life, and actual wages, and then he stole you and if anything you are less than a whore because you are about to get fucked for free —

He sucks on your clit — more accurately, he sucks on the upper half of your cunt — but semantics don’t matter because holy fucking hell — the world shatters, you shatter, everything is warm and visceral and your cunt is one twitching nerve, pulsing in time with the Lion’s relentless lapping.

“Stop — wait — stop — “ you slur, trying to squirm away; the Lion growls, a truly bestial sound that has your stomach curdling, and you freeze. He pulls you back onto his face.

“Mine,” he snaps. “Stay.”

“My lord —“

The Lion’s snarl echoes up your spine, distracting you enough that you don’t see his teeth close on the meat of your thigh until it is too late. Not that you could have stopped him biting you, of course. You might just have got a bit of warning. You stare as his fangs sink in, as blood bubbles, and for one icy moment time slows to a syrupy crawl. His eyes meet yours. His pupils are swollen black and huge, like a cat about to strike.

And then, all at once, time returns to its usual pace, and your body shrills in pain. You choke down the warm scream filling your throat, staring wild-eyed at the Lion/

He’s really switching from eating pussy to eating pussy, isn’t he? A dry, hysterical giggle escapes your lips at your own stupid joke. The Lion’s eyes drift half closed, and he releases your thigh, licking at the blood spilling from the wound. Not as much as you feared — a trickle, not a flood — but still more than you would like.

The Lion utters that strange rumbling sound again, nuzzling his blood-sticky maw against your thigh; his expression is dreamy, almost peaceful. “Delicious,” he sighs, and licks again. “Tasty tasty mortal, and all mine…”

Another lick. Then he freezes, and it is like the gears turn in his skull. You swear you hear them grind. He clears his throat, and mops his face on the back of his hand, trying to gather some dignity.

“…anyway. Right. That aside — where were we?”

[littlelioncub43]

Steve Rogers lives to eat pussy. This man will have you folded in half, legs to the sky, his hands on your thighs while he absolutely devours you. He's sloppy, he's agile, he's sucking and licking everything he possibly can, he's fucking moaning like he's getting head. And he's using his stupid supersoldier strength to hold you in place or lift your hips up to his mouth while he kneels on the floor beside the bed.

Let him eat it. He wants to. He's good at it.

[nemfrog]

The good child's own book, or Stepping stone to knowledge. 1830.

Internet Archive

[ozzgin]

Hello ozzign (is it okay if I call you Ozzie?) I was wondering if you could do how different hybrids reacting to reader getting their period, because I am on my period rn and it hurts like **HELL**, so I would very much appreciate it if you’d do that for me

Love, 🍄 anon

NSFW content!

Bear!Hybrid loves to spoil you with physical affection. The moment he sees your displeased expression, he knows. He'll sit down and pat his lap, inviting you to hop on. He's massive, soft, and warm: you'll be asleep and in no pain by the time he's done cuddling you.

Lion!Hybrid has a lot of female clients frequenting his salon, so he is rather well-informed when it comes to your troubles. You're in pain? He'll immediately cancel all appointments for the day, grab a blanket, and sit next to you. He has an agenda of tips, tricks, and suggestions that he's dutifully gathered for your sake. He's at your service.

Tiger!Hybrid is a tad awkward when it comes to this, truth be told. He's an underground fighter, and has lived his life with the simple philosophy of sucking it up. Unlike him, however, you're a frail human. He can't bear to see you in discomfort, yet it's not some opponent he can beat up. Maybe he can...uh...fuck you until you're better?

Cow!Hybrid Husband is such a caring spouse. He'll prepare you a warm drink made with plenty of love, then spend the rest of the day pampering you and fulfilling all your wishes. His tail is wagging in anticipation, eyeing your thighs and hoping you'll soon ask him to eat you out. Truly, there is no better cure. Let him take care of it.

Bull!Hybrid is a little nonchalant offering his help. He'll knock on your door, claiming he's heard your groans of discomfort and suggesting he...keeps you company. He doesn't even wait for your response, closing the door behind him and heading for the bedroom. What, it's common sense that neighbors help each other out! And he's starving to show you how neighborly he is.

Hammerhead Shark!Hybrid can tell from the moment you dive in. You barely left your boat, and you already notice him speeding in your direction. A shiver crosses your spine once you see his hungry expression. You begin to gesture at him to calm down. Pointless, really. When he's like this, there's no reasoning. He's always attracted to you, of course, but sometimes you really drive his instincts wild. He's about to devour his prey, and you'll love every second of it.

[More OCs with a menstruating Reader] | [Hybrid Masterlist]

[floatyflowers]

Dark Platonic! Mufasa X Human child Reader

The sun was setting over the Pride Lands, painting the horizon in shades of gold and orange.

Mufasa, King of the Pride Lands, prowled the savanna on his evening patrol.

His keen eyes swept the land when an unfamiliar scent caught his attention—humans.

The scent made his muscles tense with unease.

Humans rarely journeyed this far into the Pride Lands, and when they did, it often brought trouble.

As he followed the trail, the sound of muffled crying reached his ears.

The mighty lion's ears twitched, and he quickened his pace.

Hidden within the thickets, he found a small clearing where a group of humans stood around a cage.

Inside the smaller wooden, makeshift enclosure was you, a human child, no older than five.

Mufasa’s eyes hardened as he observed the humans laughing and jeering while you whimpered, clutching your knees to her chest.

You were terrified, dirty, and clearly out of place in this wilderness.

The sight of your vulnerability made the king of the jungle angry.

Without hesitation, Mufasa let out a thunderous roar that made the humans freeze in terror as the massive lion emerged from the shadows.

They barely had time to react before Mufasa lunged, claws flashing and teeth bared.

You place your hands on your eyes in fear, as you hear the tearing of flash.

After he kills all your kidnappers, Mufasa approached the cage.

He carefully used his massive claws to break the lock and nudged the door open.

"It’s all right, little one," he says in a deep, soothing voice.

"You’re safe now."

You hesitated, your small frame trembling, but something in Mufasa’s warm gaze reassured you that he meant no harm.

Slowly, you stepped out of the cage and stumbled forward.

Mufasa lowered his head, allowing you to lean against his fur for comfort.

As much as he doesn't like humans, but that doesn't mean you are included in this equation.

You are now a part of his family.

[rawflwrs]

MINISERIES / masterlist

▐ terry richmond ୫ black!reader

summary: terry is obsessed with clueless reader and her knitted stockings

warnings: explicit language, slight foot fetish (?), degradation, spitting, begging, fisting, pet names (daddy, princess, etc), overstimulation, dacryphilia, slapping, bimbofication, choking and praising (if you squint) — sub!reader & dom!terry

tags: @notapradagurl7 @simplyzeeka @blackmoonchilee @pocketsizedpanther @blackpinup22 @ovohanna24 @becauseimswagman1 @naughtynolly-blog @honey-b-heart @blyfee @lady-olive-oil @episode-ff @kaylaahisthebestest-

Terry is a sick man. A very sick man. The way his eyes hung low as he watched you throw your legs on his lap, your shorts riding up. He traced his fingers against your white knitted stockings that he loved to see you wear, admiring them as you ramble about your day, wondering if you knew what you were doing to him.

The way his dick rose at the thought of your clothed feet rubbing against his hard cock, with those stockings soaking up his pre-cum. “I don’t even understand what I did wrong.” You pouted explaining your frustration, but realistically Terry could care less. All he wanted to do was ruin your pretty pussy to keep that pretty mouth shut: and that he did.

His car rocked as he blew out smoke, watching you bounce on his thick cock. Your muffled sobs was music to his ears. “You’re daddy’s pretty little slut, aren’t you?” Terry asked, mockingly. “M’ yourr- ah!” You attempted to speak until you felt a hard slap on your cheek. Terry laughed, taking a drag of his blunt, pulling you by your neck to blow some smoke into your mouth.

You whined, blowing the smoke out, feeling yourself reach your high as his cock pressed into what felt like your heart. He was so deep. You started bouncing faster, gripping onto his muscular shoulders for support, knowing you were close to climax. Terry held your thighs down with one hand to stop you from moving. “Who said ‘mma let you cum, huh?” He asked rhetorically. “M’ sorry, daddy! Can’t hold” you hiccuped, wetting your cheeks with hot tears. He was pushing you to your limits and you hated how much you loved it.

Your brain felt fuzzy. You knew you couldn’t hold out for much longer and decided to give in, hoping the consequences weren’t too bad. You came hard on his cock, leaking onto his leather seat as you breathed out heavily. You rested your head on his shoulder in hopes of calming yourself down when you felt your hair being pulled back with force. You thought he had ripped a couple strands of your hair out.

He moved himself out of you, before he hissed saying, “what the fuck did I tell you?” You squirmed in his lap, staying silent. He ashed his blunt and placed to the side. “You can’t speak now?” He mocked, using his free hand to grab your neck, applying enough pressure to excite you, but not enough to intentionally hurt you. He would never hurt his baby.

“Get in the back, now.” He ushered you to move to the backseat. Although you would never admit it, you loved how rough he got when he was high. The way he fulfilled every lewd fantasy you had kept you on edge. Sober Terry was more gentle. He catered to your needs and prioritised your body to make you feel comfortable, whereas, intoxicated Terry was selfish and loved reminding you that you belonged to him. . . Only him.

As you climbed in the backseat, waiting for him to join you, you began removing your clothes. First, your sweater, then your shorts and when you went to remove your stockings, he quickly stopped you by kissing his teeth. “Nah, keep that on.” He ordered with a smirk. He climbed to the back, sitting straight with his back towards the door as you sat there patiently waiting for his next order. “What’s our safe word?” He asked sincerely. “Pancakes.” You replied, voice barely above a whisper. He slapped your cheek, rubbing the same place he just slapped. “Good girl.”

“You gotta start listening to daddy, princess.” He began his rant, pulling his pants all the way off. “You know the rules. Right, baby?” He asked, continuing to strip naked. “M’ sorry, pa. I didn’t mean to cum without permission.” You put your head down, feeling somewhat ashamed. Terry rubbed your still wet cheek from when you were crying previously and kissed your forehead. “Come here.” He motioned for you to move forward. You shifted forward, looking up at him with your glossy eyes. “Open.”

You opened your mouth wide, feeling his spit melt into your mouth. “Swallow.” You swallowed it without a second thought, smiling softly. “Good girl. My pretty girl.” He rubbed your cheek, smiling back at you. He moved his hand to the back of your head, pushing you down towards his grown erection. He tapped his two-toned thick cock on your lips twice, watching his pre-cum drip onto your soft lips. “So beautiful.” He expressed.

You stared at him innocently, tasting the tip before slowly dropping down, inhaling his cock inch by inch. He used his left hand to grab the back of your hair tightly, bobbing your head up and down his cock. “So fucking dirty.” He groaned. Big wet spit bubbles formed as you slurped him whole, proud that you were being so good for him. “You like being my fuck toy, don’t you?” His eyes rolled back, keeping a firm grip on your head as you hummed in response.

You took him deeper while more spit crowded around your mouth and fell onto your chest. It was so disgustingly beautiful. “You gonna let me fuck that throat up?” You hummed in response, approving. With a small exhale through your nose, he placed both of his hands on your head and stroked his cock with your head, letting your soft lips reach the base of his cock, holding you in place. “Fuckk!” He breathed out. You felt yourself start to lose your breath and that fuzzy feeling reappeared; almost as though you lost the ability to think.

The heat between your thighs growing more aggravating by the minute, you tapped his thigh to let you come up. He let go of your head and you immediately lifted up, gasping for air as your saliva dripped onto his dick. Before you knew it, he pushed you back onto his cock, bobbing your head faster. You knew he reached his high and was close to climax when he started mumbling incoherent nonsense. “You taking my dick so well, mama.” He praised. You were his fleshlight.

Soon, you felt hot liquid shoot at the back of your throat and a loud grunt from Terry’s lips. He slowly bobbed your head to make sure he covered every inch of your throat as if he was signing his name and let go of you once he was sure that he was empty.

Terry smiled when he saw you swallow it and stick your tongue out to show him it was all gone. “Good girl.” He slapped you harshly on your cheek, pressing a kiss straight after. “Please, pa.” You begged. “What do you want? Hmm?” He asked, knowing all you wanted was to be fucked brainless. He watched you lay down on your back, lifting your leg up to place on his broad shoulders. He rubbed your stockings, biting the fabric that covered your feet, twirling his tongue around your toes as you tried to suppress your moans. “I asked you a question.” He glared, continuing to suck on your toes through your stockings.

“I want you to use me.” You pleaded. You felt so embarrassed. On the outside, most people thought you were somewhat of a strong, independent woman who wouldn’t take shit from anyone, but here you are begging to be used like a meaningless toy. How pathetic. “That’s all you had to say.” He smiled against your feet, trailing kisses up and down your legs. “Open that pussy wide.” He ordered, watching closely as you brought your hands to your clit, spreading it open.

The way it was glistening, begging for him to touch it, abuse it, relieve it. Terry lost all composure. He sat back on the middle seat, facing forward, calculating his next move. He motioned for you to lay on his lap. As you moved towards his lap, you let out a small whine, feeling a strong hot sensation on your ass. Then another and another and another.

You were practically sobbing by the fifth slap. Knowing he was going for his sixth harsh slap, you moved your hand back to try and stop him, in an attempt to ease the pain. “T-Terr-y slo’ dow-n.” You pleaded, losing your ability to form a coherent sentence. “The fuck you just call me?” He gripped you by your hair to look you dead in your eyes.

You fucked up. “W-wait! M’ sorry.” You tried to apologise, but you knew he wasn’t going to accept it. On a normal day, he loved the way his name rolled off your tongue, but during a time like this? You knew better. Before you could say anything else, his four large fingers were buried deep into your wet folds, moving in and out of you fast. The wet gushing sound filled his car as he quickened his pace, watching you crumble beneath him. You tried to speak, but no words could physically come out of your mouth: just sweet nothings.

“What’s my name?” He asked, wondering if he should fist your tight hole to stretch you out ready for when he’s going to fuck you senseless. “Da- ah!” You squealed as you felt yourself squirting. Your legs felt so numb and all you could do was cry because you knew he wasn’t gonna stop until you said what he wanted to hear. He added his fifth finger and began fisting roughly into you, using his free hand to grab your throat. “You can take it, mama. What’s my name?” He asked again. All you could feel was how close you were to climax and how deep his big hand was rammed into your pussy.

“Say it and I’ll let you cum.” He slowed his pace down, knowing you were close. “D-ddy.” You whispered, brain foggy, sweat dripping from every part of your body. You wouldn’t be surprised if you passed out. “I can’t hear you. Say it again.” At this point, you could���ve sworn you saw the light, but you tried pushing through knowing your orgasm was going to be worth it. “Daddy!” You screamed. With that, Terry pulled his fist out as your body started to jitter, meaning you were about to cum.

“Let it out, mama.” His deep voice echoed. Your quiet sobs filled up the car as you came. He rubbed your clit with his thumb, mixing your cum in with your squirt fluid, enjoying how far he pushed you. “So fucking sexy.” He hummed, pulling his thumb to your lips for you to suck on. Your plump lips wrapped around his thumb, tasting your sweet juices. He thought you looked the prettiest in times like these.

“You gone let me beat that pussy up?” He asked with a smirk, rubbing your covered feet. You could feel the excitement leap out of you as your small giggles blessed his ear. No matter how far he pushed you, you always wanted more.

PART TWO COMING SOON

[slightly-knot-insane]

Pride and Joy

Monstertober 2024 - day 1 [ Marking the territory ] by @ozzgin

[ lion hybrids x fem!reader ]

You're the only human in the pride. You stumbled upon them during the safari (when you ended up unsupervised and lost) and the females noticed you. They wanted you to be part of their family and offer you to their alpha.

The alpha male lion hybrid was more than eager to let you join, especially seeing his queens so excited about you. Before letting their king mark you (whatever that is), they wanted to get you dolled up. They immediately took you to their baths.

You noticed all the lioness hybrids having oval-shaped stains all over their bodies. At first, you thought those were some kind of tattoos. You asked the lionesses about them, but they just giggled. They surrounded you, undressed you, and pushed you into the bath. They washed your body slowly and thoroughly, making lewd but sweet comments about your body and purring from pleasure. Their hands would disappear into the soapy water and start exploring your thighs, ass, and cunt. They were gentle and skillful. Your nipples became hard above the hot water and you couldn't help but moan. They were very happy to hear you. "You will like our king, sweet regina. He is powerful but obedient. Everyone knows that queens rule the pride."

After deciding you had enough (even though you most certainly did not!), they dress you up in beautiful silk and cotton and present you to their king lion. His eyes light up like a rising sun. You notice his powerful mane and incredible scars... but no strange markings like lionesses.

"Mark our new queen, just like you mark us every sunrise," said one of the lionesses.

With a lustful lick of his tongue, the lion hybrid starts kissing your lips, neck, chest, and shoulders, slowly undressing you with his big hands, and leaving hickeys all over your body. He even kneels in front of you - the king himself! His deep, guttural purring, fingers that locate your erogenous zones as if his fingertips had eyes, and amazing kisses, melt your core. You are sure they can all smell the nectar dripping down your thighs. The king most certainly does. He bites his lower lip before diving between your folds and, like a tidal wave, pleasure washes over you.

Lionesses coax you both, enjoying the view, but they touch neither king nor you, letting you get to know each other. You grab a fistful of lion hybrid's thick mane and cum all over his tongue. Your knees buckle, but your new king quickly picks you up and kisses you again. You are covered in hickeys - the same marks that other lionesses get every morning. "What a wonderful new queen you found for our pride," he beams, and you and he are pounced on by happy lionesses.

[monstersholygrail]

Wild Domination

Lion Hybrid bf x Antelope Hybrid fem!reader— exhibitionism, voyeurism, rough sex, aftercare

Your Lion Hybrid bf not choosing a Lion for his mate had been a very controversial choice within his pride. But he had stuck by it. Stuck by you, his Antelope Hybrid mate.

And you were gonna stick by him through it all too. No matter how often the other lion hybrids looked at you like you were their next meal. But not in the way your bf always did. Or how they whispered cruel words as you passed them by.

Though while you were determined to make friends, thinking if they loved you they’d be more accepting of you, your bf knew only one thing would work.

Dominance.

He had to show them all who was still leading his pride and that no disrespect to his mate would be tolerated. Because you were his love and the one who would be leading alongside him. So in a way you had to show your dominance. Or be dominated.

You shyly follow behind him as he gathers everyone to address his pride. The entire lot of you all standing in the large dining room of his home.

“I hear there is some uncertainty on the claim I have made to my mate,” your bf rumbles out, a subtle threat to his tone. They all avoid his gaze.

You blush as he brings you to stand in front of him. His hands on your shoulders and the comforting presence of his heat on your back helping to calm you. His hands draw down your body with desire, sliding along and groping at your delicious curves, feeling the flesh give away under his intense affection.

You don’t mean to but you end up meeting the eye of everyone at the other end of the table, seeing varying degrees of displeasure.

“I’ve brought you all here to clear any remaining doubt.”

You feel a light pressure on our back and you instantly submit, following your bf’s silent instructions. But your eyes widen as you find yourself bending over on top of the table, cheek squished against the glass.

“Love, what’re you doing?”

He doesn’t respond and for a moment you worry he hadn’t heard your breathless question. Then he flips up your dress and kicks your knees a part so that he can fit snuggly between your legs even with your tail. Any lingering questions fly out of your head the second he pushes your panties to the side and you feel his wet tip pushing through your folds.

“So that you know her heart is mine, her soul is mine, her body is mine, and most of all her perfect pussy is mine,” your bf says with a blissful sigh and he pushes into you.

With a growl he refuses to hold back, wanting everyone to understand the claim he has on you and that you have on him. His hands return to your shoulders as he starts pounding away at you, tail flicking furiously. You moan wildly, struggling to push back against his every thrust when he’s pinning your body down. But knowing you need even more of him.

The other Lion Hybrids look on, acceptance and denial in their expressions. Yet no matter what the smell of arousal was clear from both sides of the room. Your own bliss grows at the sight of them all enjoying the show and you cry out when your bf starts hitting those special spots inside of you, his length spearing through your gummy walls till your toes curl.

“Look at how well she takes my cock. Made for me to be inside of her. No one else- no one else can make me feel like this,” your bf snarls loudly, his voice echoing throughout the room as he keeps pumping his cock inside your tight cunt.

By now you can see just about everyone at the other end of the room touching themselves to the sight of you and your bf. It makes your skin buzz and your pussy flutter around your bf’s dick.

Your bf growls again and a second later you feel his hot breath on your neck. You shiver, leaning into him and his relentless thrusts. The new angle hitting even deeper inside you.

“You like this, sweetheart? Having our pride watch as I take your soaked cunt and stretch it with my cock,” He whispers in your ear and you can’t help but clench down on him, moaning raggedly.

He chuckles as if your reaction had given him all the answer he needed. His thrusts start to turn sloppy and erratic and you know he’s close. Wanting to feel you milk his cock, your bf grips your sensitive horns and guides your body back. You cry out, jerking in his hold but not wanting him to stop.

“Now I want you to cum and prove how much of a slut you really are for me.”

You immediately explode over his cock, your orgasm crashing through you as if just waiting for him to let you release. A long mewl leaves your lips as you unnaturally bend so you can feel him as deep inside you as possible. Your body shakes as your bf continues to snap his hips into your squeezing cunt and with how damn tight you are he can’t hold back his own climax for long.

It only takes a couple more snaps of his hips before he’s following after you, filling your pussy with every last drop of his cum he can. Moans from the other end of the table echo down the way but neither of you pay them any more mind.

He sits down in a nearby chair and pulls you into his arms. Cradling your plump frame in his broad chest and sagging against the piece of furniture. Your bf dares to relax before remembering the rest of the pride down the room. He gruffly dismisses them and as soon as you two are alone he sighs and buries his face in your neck.

“You’ll probably have to give a different version of that speech again. I don’t think anyone heard you,” you comment, lazily reaching up to brush your hands through his mane. A gentle rumble passes through your mate’s chest.

“Oh, I plan to rehearse this speech as many times as you can take me…”

[pascaloverx]

SHAMELESS

Summary: You are moving into the Leister mansion after tragically losing your father in a plane crash. He worked for William Leister, who immediately offered to take you in. The problem? His son, Nick Leister, who is far from pleased about having a stranger living under his roof.

Author's Note: My slight fixation on Matthew Broome led me to create this fanfic, but I can’t guarantee it will be good. So, dear reader, if you enjoy it, please interact and comment. The fanfic will likely contain strong language, violence, and adult content. Minors should not engage with it.

two

ONE

It's like a fairy tale—a young, poor woman turning into the new Cinderella. At least, that's what the media is saying. But that’s not exactly what’s happening in your life.

Your father spent his life working for William Leister. During a business trip, the plane he was on crashed, leaving no survivors. You had just started college and taken a part-time job to help your father pay the tuition. And now, you don’t even know what to do.

Well, actually, you do. You’re packing your bags to move in with your father’s former boss. He feels guilty, even if he won’t admit it, and decided to invite you to live with him and his son. So now, you’re leaving the house you grew up in to step into what the internet is calling a princess’s life.

They even sent a car to pick you up, which feels quite fancy. You still can’t believe the size of the place you’ll be living in—in fact, you feel almost out of place.

"I hope you had a pleasant trip," William says, embracing you gently. His staff carries your bags inside the mansion.

"It was smooth," you reply, following William inside his home. "With all due respect, sir, your house—or rather, your mansion—is truly enchanting," you say, marveling at everything around you.

"There’s no need to call me ‘sir.’ Just William is fine. Now, my house is quite large, and unfortunately, I’m running late for a charity event. It won’t take long, but I’m sure Nick will show you around," Mr. Leister says as he adjusts his suit and tie.

You feel a bit uneasy about relying on his son, but you nod in agreement and watch as he leaves the mansion, a bouquet of flowers in his hands—probably for a date.

"Are you planning to just stand by the door?" A male voice speaks from behind you. Surprised, you turn around.

"Not at all, but I fail to see how that’s any of your concern," you reply, still standing in place. It might have sounded rude, but he doesn’t seem too pleased either.

"Some might say that since you’re in my house, you could be a bit more polite," Nick says as he descends the stairs, his gaze fixed on you.

"If this is your way of saying you want me gone, you don’t have to say it twice," you retort, turning to grab your suitcase and leave. It might be a bit drastic, but you’re not about to be humiliated by some rich boy.

Before you can go upstairs to get your bags, however, Nick catches your arm—not forcefully, despite his muscular build, but just enough to stop you. The closeness between you is enough for you to catch the scent of his cologne. He, however, is clearly staring at your lips.

"You’re a guest of my father. It wouldn’t be right for me to make you leave. If anyone should leave, it’s me," Nick says, his eyes studying you, while you’re too focused on the proximity between you to say anything.

"Perhaps we should try not to get on each other’s nerves… at least for a while," you whisper, leaning in slightly. The tension is palpable, as if the two of you are trying to read each other through your gaze.

"We’ll see what the future holds," Nick replies before finishing his descent. "Oh, in case my father didn’t mention it, I don’t usually stay here overnight," he adds with a smirk, leaving you wondering what you’re supposed to do alone in this place.

"And I’m supposed to stay here all by myself?" you ask, surprised—or maybe indignant. Not that you need a babysitter, but you don’t even know where anything is.

"If you’d rather, you can come with me. But preferably, I think you’ll want to stay here—it’s safer," he says, sounding like some secret agent or mobster.

"I suppose I’ll have to go just to see how much danger I can handle," you reply, stepping closer and looking him in the eye, your faces mere inches apart.

"If you say so," he mutters, feigning disinterest.

"Your father said you’d show me the mansion," you remind him. You’re certain he won’t want to, but you can at least try.

"I think you’ll manage to find your way around. But if you do get lost, you can call my name—whether I answer or not, we’ll see," he says smugly before walking away, leaving you standing there.

[notapradagurl7]

Hey girl I was wondering if you could do a fic with Aaron and basically him and the reader are married and just had a baby. Reader is having a hard time adjusting with the baby, work, etc and has a meltdown. Here incomes Aaron to rescue, and if you wanna end it with some 🍆 ✨(that’s fine by me 😏)

Bundle Of You.

Pairings: Black Fem!Wife! Reader x Terry RichmondHusband!

Summary: See Ask. You and your husband Terry just had your little one, and happily married. However you're having a hard time adjusting with everything, your mom babysitting. But your husband comes to the rescue.

WC: 3972k.

A/N: Here you go, I loved this, ask and you will receive, thank you for this! lovely anon, I had fun, that last part is fine by me too,🤭 but had something extra. 🩷 don't forget to like, comment, reblog and drop a request if you like, enjoy!

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @babybratzmaraj

@becauseimswagman1

@superheroprincess22 @pocketsizedpanther @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @yassbishimvintage

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @writingsbytee @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @miguelspvssy @liatreads @kaylaahisthebestest- @tforpresz

@uniqueoutlierblog

@dxddykenn

@secretlifeoofmarpessa @dpennedit

@westside-rot @mymindisneverhere

@mind-somewhere-else

@kindofaintrovert

@5starr-staciii

@lady-olive-oil @23jammy @zillasvilla @yassbishimvintage @musicisme333

@chaoticcoffeequeen @saturnville @enchantedillumination @kaylalb @mogul93 @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @fakxmbj @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani @mama-2001 @ororosdaughter

Warnings: fluff, filthy smut, sensual eye contact, a feral reader, spanking, praise, unprotected sex, a feral Terry, breeding kink, angst, dirty talk, consensual for both parties, a horny reader, mention of death, mention of suicide, cussing, stressed-out reader, creampie, meltdown, slight daddy kink, pet names, breast milk, nasty!Terry, rough sex, the reader being picked up, dacryphilia.

————

Your elegant black Honda arrived at your home's driveway, and you let out a sigh. You glanced over the charming single-story brown-painted house, which featured seven windows. Lush green hedges trim the house corners, neatly trimmed and short. Birds sit at the tips of the branches, singing a lovely tune.

“Another day is over, thank God,” you mumbled lowly, sighing in relief.

Grabbing your keys and briefcase from the passenger seat, you pulled the door handle and stepped with a groan of exhaustion.

On your first day back from work after maternity leave, it felt like chaos with your difficult boss breathing down your neck and colleagues inquiring about your baby, Terry, and your pregnancy, draining your energy.

You spotted your mom’s car parked in the driveway, rolling your eyes. Not in the mood to talk to her about anything but you needed someone watch the baby. You had a hard time adjusting with work, the baby, and your mom stressing you out, etc. It was so overwhelming. You couldn’t wait until your husband got home.

The last time you talked to your mom was an argument about Terry, the marriage and having a baby.

Your mom wasn't too happy about finding out about your marriage and baby through your cousin Raelynn at a family reunion who found through Instagram. You blocked her and every family member that day.

She believed she had the right to question your choice to marry a former Marine, and you gazed at her with a gentle look.

This originates from your mother's negative experience with your father, a former Marine suffering from intense PTSD, who would have nightmares at night. Screaming.

It left your mom crying, praying to God that the pain would away, but it wouldn't go away. Your father was tired of the nightmares, tired of the pain.

Until one night, your dad stood alone in the backyard with his gun in his hand, he wanted the pain, and the violent memories to end. Tears rolled down his face, He aimed the gun at his end and a gunshot aired out.

After that, you and your mom did your best to keep going, she was sad about your father but never mentioned him again, she would usually say that she was finally free of it. The two of you didn’t struggle but

Terry had endured so much, from the loss of his cousin Mike after he was stabbed in jail and battling the corrupt law enforcement in Shelby Springs.

But you made it clear that Terry was different, he was quiet and reserved about being a great dad.

Mentally it took a toll on him, after the court battle and eventually winning it, it wasn't enough to bring his cousin back to Earth.

If Terry could conquer heaven’s angels and talk to God Himself, asking The Creator to bring him back. He would do that in a heartbeat.

Hell, Terry would do the same with Satan and those rotten demons, if he had the power or believed in the afterlife.

But when Terry met you at a black-owned coffee shop, for him everything changed. He had a family with you, a daughter. He wished Mike could meet the little one.

You shook your head, trying to dismiss the thoughts swirling in your mind as you stepped inside.

You opened the door and were greeted by your mom, and you responded to her.

As you made your way through the hallways into the bedroom, you tossed your briefcase onto your desk, grabbed a pen, and noted down important dates and names related to your work as an assistant in a cubicle.

Once you flopped on the bed. You heard your baby cry.

Groaning lowly, pouting your lips. You quickly raised up from the bed and hurried into the room where your mom was holding the baby in her arms. “Hello dear, how are you?,” she replied in a annoyed tone.

“I’m fine, You’re holding her incorrectly,” you shot back, flanking her immediately.

Raven’s bedroom was quite spacious, the four walls painted in chocolate brown, and white macaron cream, an armchair in the corner of the room, and her square-shaped baby bed was filled with three stuffed plushies of a star, swan and a teddy bear with smiling faces, thin blankets rested atop.

“Hello there, my beautiful girl, how are you?” You said, in a warm tone, gently taking your baby from her arms.

“Nice to see you too,” your mom shot back, her eyes softened a bit.

You and Terry were married along with your baby girl, Raven, her hazel green eyes and brown skin, her tiny curls framed her face, She was so beautiful.

Your mom mean-mugged you, arms crossed. “I raised you, I know how to hold a baby, and why the hell would you name your child Raven anyway?”

Anger boiled within you, “It’s our baby, Mom, why do you think we had a private wedding, private pregnancy, private proposal, we wanted it to be just us,” you explained to her, narrowing your gaze at her.

You gained the baby weight, your tittes got bigger and tried to work out with Terry since he was looking mighty delectable lately, he reminded that it was progress, not perfection. It didn't help that random women over the internet were lusting over your man.

But he’s all yours now, he was an amazing husband to you, a great father to the baby.

You cradled Raven close, her soft whimpers fading as you rocked her gently. In that moment, everything felt right, but the tension in the room with your mother was palpable.

"Mom, I appreciate your help, but you need to respect our choices," you said firmly, your voice steady despite the frustration bubbling beneath the surface.

“Respect? You think marrying that man and having a child without telling me is respect?” she countered, her tone sharper than a knife's edge.

The baby began crying again, and you sighed. “See, you don't know what you're doing,”

You took a deep breath, fighting the urge to snap back. Instead, you focused on Raven's tiny fingers curling around yours. “He loves me, and he loves Raven. Isn’t that what matters?”

“Mhm, love this, love that,” she shot back, but the fire in her eyes dimmed just a little as she glanced at her granddaughter.

You backed away from your mom and sat down on the armchair, “Just leave me alone, I'm trying to comfort my child,” you pushed back, your tone laced with frustration.

Just then, the front door creaked open and closed shut, and there was Aaron, a breath of fresh air. Your dark brown skin shone underneath the light, your hair styled in black box braids, pulled back in a ponytail.

His tall frame filled the doorway, and you could see the weariness etched on his handsome face. His cornrows perfectly showing, his light skin shined under the light.

“Hey, my love, I'm home,” he called out, his voice wrapping around his words like a warm blanket. He pecked your forehead and your lips sweetly.

His eyes flicked toward the baby who smiled at Terry, once he picked up the baby in his arms.

Your heart swelled at the sight of him, and you felt the chaos in your mind begin to settle. As he stepped inside, you could see the way he lit up at the sight of you and Raven. “What’s going on in here?”

“Just a little family fight,” you replied, shooting your mother a pointed look.

Terry walked over, those warm eyes scanning the room before landing on you, his expression softening. “You alright, sweetheart?” he asked, concern lacing his voice.

You nodded, but the exhaustion was evident. “Just a bit overwhelmed. My first day back honey, you know?”

You sniffled and wiped your tears, “It is been so overwhelming lately, and i don't think that I can do this Terry, I…” your voice shaky and words stuttered, you got up and ran into the bedroom.

Terry finally put the baby to sleep, settling her in the bed, your mom followed behind the man into the bedroom.

He stepped closer, wrapping an arm around your waist and drawing you into his side. “You’re doing brilliant, babe. The world’s mad right now, but you’re handling it like a queen,” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple.

Your mom huffed, crossing her arms again. “You call this handling it? She’s falling apart, Terry,.”

Terry’s gaze flicked to her, a hint of protectiveness in his stance. “And what do you know about it?” he challenged softly, but there was an underlying tension in his tone. “She’s just had a baby. This isn’t easy for any of us.”

You could feel the warmth radiate from Terry, and you leaned into him, feeling the weight of the world lift just a little. “I just wish…” you began, but the words caught in your throat.

You didn’t want to voice your insecurities, not now, not when he was trying to reassure you.

“Wish what, baby?” he prompted gently, his thumb stroking your arm soothingly.

“Nothing,” you finally said, but his eyes searched yours, and you could tell he wasn’t buying it. Your shiny wedding ring glowed brightly with the golden ring on his finger.

“Don’t lie to me, yeah? I know you better than that.” His voice was low, but it was filled with warmth and understanding.

You sighed, feeling the tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “I just feel so lost sometimes, Terry. I don’t know how to balance everything. I want to be a good wife, a good mother, and I feel like I’m failing.”

Tears falling down your face, crying softly. Feeling like the world was falling apart into tiny pieces.

He cupped your face, tilting it up to meet his gaze. “You’re not failing. You’re doing more than enough, and I’m here, every step of the way. We’re in this together, remember?”

His words wrapped around you like a healing balm, and you felt the tension in your chest ease. “I just need you, Terry. I need you to remind me that I’m not alone in this.”

“You could never be alone with me around,” he replied, his voice a low promise. “Let’s get through this together. And if anyone tries to come for you, I’ll be right here to defend you, baby. Always.”

Terry’s eyes flickered toward your mother, “And as for you, get the hell out of our house, now,”

Your mother’s mouth fell open, made an unpleasant noise, left the room and the house, and then slammed the door. You were bursting out in laughter with your husband.

“Now that is how you snap back,” You giggled with covering your mouth.

Watching Terry gently kissed her forehead, and gently settled the baby in her bed, hearing her softly snore peacefully.

The two of you quietly walk out of her bedroom, walking through the hallways and into the spacious bedroom. You grabbed your briefcase and settled it at the corner of the room. “I’m so happy you're home,” you coaxed softly, kissing his face.

As your mother left the room, Terry’s eyes darkened slightly, a playful glint appearing. “Now that we’ve dealt with that shit, how about we focus on something a bit more…intimate?” he suggested, a smirk playing on his lips.

You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, and the flutter in your stomach ignited. “Intimate, huh?” you teased back, your voice dropping an octave.

“Yeah, baby,” he replied, stepping closer, his breath warm against your skin. “I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

“Missed me?” you echoed, your heart racing as he leaned in, his lips just inches from yours. “What do you mean?”

“You know what I mean, baby”

He leaned in closely and kissed you tenderly, he unbuttoned your work clothes, while you helped him slide off his grey tee shirt that was drenched in sweat, his earthy yet cinnamon cologne still on him.

His full lips enveloped your nipple as his other hand kneaded and squeezed the other one; you let out a soft whimper when his fingers grazed the stretch marks on your brown skin. The curve of your ass smacked by his hand. Was this man trying to get you pregnant again? He couldn't be devious, right?

“T-Terryyy..” you whimpered softly in his ear. Your nipples were still sensitive after breastfeeding Raven last night, he fingered your pussy slowly and pulled out. “Pleaseee..”

His hands spread your legs wide apart for him, those dreamy ocean eyes of his focused on your wet pussy like he wanted to sear the image in his brain just like those damn acronyms from his service of the Marine Corps, he wished to replace each letter of it with the sound of you, taste of you, your pretty face and your back arching. “My beautiful wife,” he said with a smile, he groaned lowly, His dick jumped and twitched at the thought, he needed you so badly.

You had a small request in your mind, you had to get it out immediately. “Terry, can you be a little rougher this time?” you asked with a lip pout.

He offered a reassuring nod, a playful smirk on his face as he positioned his dick at your entrance, gently pressing the tip in. "You're already so wet for me; I love you," he said in a deep voice, prompting you to moan uncontrollably, your gaze locked on his. "I-I love you too, shit!" you exclaimed.

He leaned in to kiss the tattoo on your shoulder, then pressed his lips against yours twice more. As he pushed your legs back, he dove his dick deeper into you. "Just like that; you take me so perfectly," he continued, his eyes drawn to the mess pooling beneath you, with breast milk trickling down his chiseled abdomen. Breaking the kiss, you let out another moan as he gradually filled you, thrusting deeper with each movement. He groaned in response, the soft squelching sound resonating throughout the bedroom.

“Shhh, you should be ashamed of yourself for the mess you made on Daddy’s dick, that pussy sucks me right back in,” Terry groaned out feeling your walls latching around and pulling him in once he began to move inside you, he felt your pussy pulsate onto him, that little heartbeat kept him fucking you deeply, “So fuckin’ tight, that’s my girl..” he praised deeply.

Right, your baby was still sleeping peacefully, you couldn't risk that yet you were on the verge of giving her another sibling right now, you kissed him sloppily again, while he kissed you back passionately.

“Apologize,” He demanded with that deep voice of his, his fingers pinched your sensitive nipples again and milk dripped from them. Your legs shaking at an overwhelming sensation.

Terry gives you long deep strokes while sucking on your nipple torturously, “I-I’m sorry Daddy, I-I can't help it…you’re j-just s-so big,” you babbled with a raspy moan, tears burned through your eyes, hearing him slurp and swallow your milk as his hips swiveling, wetting his dick up. Was this man trying to fuck and suck the life out of you? He was!

Thankfully, your baby was sound asleep in the room opposite yours, and you couldn't afford to disturb her after Terry had JUST gotten her to sleep. However, Terry had incredible stamina; thankfully, your evening workouts with him prepared you, or you would have been exhausted from this.

You managed to match him in the bedroom and were almost on the verge of giving her another sibling; your hand flew to your mouth and your eyes rolled back as he increased his speed. “I love it when this dick is inside me, fill me up so good babyy..” You moaned wildly, biting your lip, rolling your hips with him.

Terry’s hushed grunts and groans were deep and slightly raspy, biting down on his sexy lips, he watched your pussy make his dick disappear as he went in and out. “Mhmm, Such a needy little thing for this dick, aren't you?" he trailed off, smirking.

A sharp gasp for air escaped you, from the feeling of his thighs rubbing against yours, “Yesss,” the brief tap of his balls hitting your clit made you scream as if you were dying, pelvis meeting at your ass and breast milk poured out after jagged sloppy thrusts, “ it was charged with heat as Terry picked up his pace, his thrusts growing more fervent. “Oh..my..fuck!” you muffled your moan, eyes rolling back, nails digging into his back.

Terry’s hand rubbed your stomach in circles, thinking of filling you up with his warm cum, making you pregnant again but he couldn't do that. You were already stressed out with everything that was going on, but the way you called out to him and your pussy gripped him tight, made him want to give you a boy. Nah, it wouldn't be right. Bad Terry, be good.

Wait, the bed was creaking under both of you, your hand tapped his neck three times, that was the sign to stop with your consent and Terry stopped immediately, breaking his thoughts, His head lifted to look at you with genuine concern, “The bed is too loud, it might wake up Raven,” you whispered to him.

With that, his hands slid to your thighs, holding them firmly as Terry swiftly hoisted you up in a front-facing piggyback, your arms encircling his neck. feeling his tip kiss your cervix repeatedly. “Terry, fuck, the noises..” you mumbled out, referring to the wet noises of his dick being swallowed up by your pussy. He loved every bit of this, pleasure flowed through both of you.

Terry chuckled darkly, gazing into your pleasure-filled teary eyes, relishing in them falling down on your face, your back arched in the air as if on cue. “You know we have no control over this baby, you hear that shit?” Terry said in a deeper tone, your nipples rubbed onto his, and milk spilled down his chiseled chest and onto his dick. His tongue gliding on your nipple again while gazing at you lovingly.

You were quickly climbing that familiar peak, every thrust felt deeper making you go dumb and dizzy, laying your head onto his shoulder, “T-Terry, I'm close, i’m on the pill,” you managed to gasp out, your body trembling beneath him.

“Good, come with me, Y/N, let me feel everything,” he encouraged, his breath warm against your skin as he leaned down to capture your lips sloppy again. “Fuck me till we both can't move,” you requested, “Your wish is my command,” he said, The kisses were passionate, and nasty with spit chains connecting and reconnecting between his plump lips and yours, he felt so damn good, you wanted to feel him.

His hips stuttered and twitched, and Terry’s merciless thrusts turned sporadic into you, your screams became loud and he moaned deeply, “You sound sexy Terry..” you groaned out, loving his raspy moans, you felt your body coil tightly before the dam broke.

You cried out his name, the sound echoing in the room as you came undone around him. Your walls squeezed him tightly, essence spilled onto his thick dick, and the sensation pushed him over the edge as well. Wet noises and sloppy kissing were halted and remained silent.

Terry spilled his warm jets of cum inside of you, filling you up while your essence poured out your pussy, mixing with his cum, your breast milk dripped onto the floor, creating pools in between you. Your bodies shaking weakly together and flinch against each other after every move, “W-we really came together baby..” you babbled lazily.

After a moment of blissful silence, you both melted against each other, hearts racing and panting. You could still hear the faint sounds of Raven’s peaceful breathing from across the hall, and he gently laid you on your back on the bed, he pulled out of you, seeing his cum spill out of your pussy.

Terry brushed a few loose strands of braids from your face, his expression softening. “You okay?” he asked, concern flickering in his eyes as he studied you.

“More than okay,” you replied, a smile breaking through the remnants of your exhaustion. “I needed that.”

“Now, let’s get cleaned up before the baby wakes up,” he said, his tone teasing as he helped you off the bed. Terry carried you into the bathroom, he cleaned up the mess in the bedroom and prepared a hot bath for both of you.

Terry got into the foamy warm spacious huge bath with you, sitting across from you while your back lay against the back pillow on the white marble tile, the warm water enveloped you both. Its soothing touch eases the ache in your body, thighs, pussy, everywhere.

You leaned back, letting out a contented sigh as you watched Terry relax across from you. His strong arms rested on the edge of the tub, the water and lights above glistening on his skin.

“You feeling better baby girl? Just us for a moment,” he said, a playful smile on his gorgeous face.

“Yeah, I am, I missed this, I needed this from Terry,”

Terry’s gaze softened, and he leaned closer, the water sloshing gently around you both, “You know I'll always be here for you, right? No matter how chaotic things get?”

You nodded, feeling a wave of gratitude flow through you. “ I do, I just need to remember that sometimes. It's easy to get lost in everything,”

He reached out, his hand resting against your cheek. “Remember you can't be everything all at once, only yourself. You're doing amazing and Raven? She’s lucky to have you,”

“You know how to make me feel better Terry,” You replied with a warm smile, kissing his lips sweetly before pulling away.

“It’s what I’m here for,” he said with a reassuring tone, his lips pressed onto your forehead tenderly.

Both of you washed yourselves squeaky clean and dried off using the towels, getting dressed in Terry’s tee purple shirt, he slid on his grey sweatpants and got into bed, his wrapped around you protectively, both of you drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

————

[melosliving]

Can you do a fic where reader and Aaron are married and have been for years. But the public didn’t know about the reader. They thought Aaron was single. But anyways reader makes cooking videos on TikTok and is pregnant with a baby and somehow they put 2 and 2 together and realize they are married. The public is surprised that he has a wife. And now everyone is calling them a cute couple.

Thank you for your request !!! Let me cook and I hope you’ll like it ❤️❤️

aaron pierre x wife!reader

folks discovering y’all are married with a baby on the way …

You’d been craving jollof rice all week, so naturally, you decided to make it and turn the process into a TikTok. Pregnancy cravings weren’t something to play with, and your audience always loved your cooking content anyway.

The video was perfect—vibrant colors, smooth transitions, and a warm, inviting voiceover walking your viewers through each step.

“Once the tomato base has reduced,” your voice explained as the pot of rich red sauce simmered on the screen, “you’ll add the parboiled rice and mix it thoroughly so it soaks up all that flavor—”

But right as you reached the next step, a familiar voice cut in. Deep, smooth, and unmistakably British. “That’s looking good, love. You saving me a plate, yeah?”

You could hear the smile in your voice as you replied, “Aaron, I’m recording.”

“And I’m hungry, girl,” he quipped, unfazed, clearly not realizing his voice had been picked up by the mic.

“I always save a plate for you baby,” you replied softly, with a little laugh, before continuing your voiceover like nothing happened.

At the time, you didn’t think much of it. Just another normal moment with your husband. You edited the video, uploaded it, and figured the focus would stay on the jollof rice. But your followers? They had other priorities.

The comments section was on fire within minutes.

#tiktok!comments

@ user 1 WAIT. Is that Aaron Pierre???

@user 2 Not this deep British voice interrupting mid-recipe… I KNOW THAT’S HIM.

@user 3 She said Aaron like it was casual. GIRL, WE KNOW.

@user 4 Y’all… she’s pregnant, cooking jollof, and married to Aaron Pierre? I’m logging off.

People began dissecting the video like detectives. The way your tone softened when you spoke to him, the casual back-and-forth, the fact that he felt comfortable interrupting at all—it all added up. By the end of the day, his name was trending, and everyone was convinced they’d cracked the case: not only were you married to the Aaron Pierre, but you were also having his baby.

The next morning, Aaron found out before you did. He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through TikTok, grinning like a kid. “Love,” he called out, “you’ve got to see this.”

You shuffled into the room, hand on your growing belly, already suspicious of the look on his face. “What now?”

He handed you his phone, showing an edit someone had made of your video. They’d slowed it down, isolated his voice, and overlaid the words NOT AARON PIERRE INTERRUPTING HER MID-JOLLOF in bold text.

“They’re really out here doing audio forensics,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh. Aaron smirked, leaning back as you sat beside him. “To be fair, they’ve got a point. Who wouldn’t want to know who’s eating that jollof?”

You shot him a playful look. “I was trying to focus on the recipe, and here you are soft-launching yourself as my husband.”

“Soft-launching?” He laughed. “I thought we were past the soft launch when you started wearing your ring in those videos.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m blaming you for this one. You couldn’t even let me finish the voiceover before talking about plates.”

“What can I say?” He rested his hand on your belly, his voice dropping to that teasing tone. “It smelled good, and I’ve got to look out for you and baby.”

By the end of the day, the internet had pieced together everything. Fans unearthed old TikToks where Aaron’s voice could be faintly heard in the background, and someone even pulled up an interview clip of him saying, “My wife makes the best jollof rice—and she’s pregnant, so I get even more of it.”

Your comments section was relentless:

@unknown 1. Black love, jollof rice, and a baby? Y’all won.”

@user 5 Imagine carrying Aaron Pierre’s baby AND making him jollof. Sis, you’re living my dream.

@unknown 2 She’s cooking for two, and Aaron’s eating for three. I’m obsessed with this family already.

That night, as you lay curled up on the couch together, scrolling through all the reactions, Aaron leaned down and kissed your temple. “I think they’re excited for us.”

You laughed softly, resting your hand over his on your belly. “I think they’re more excited for you.”

“Nah.” He smiled, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. “It’s us, love. It’s always us.”

@ melosliving 2025

[mothiir]

the lion and the pussycat

Cw: facefucking, dubcon due to the lions personality

— —

The Lion’s mouth crashes against the lower half of your face, and you know in that moment that you are dead. He’s going to do what he’s been threatening to do for weeks, and he’s going to kill you — if you are lucky it will be quick, his fangs against your jugular; a spray of blood, or a broken neck. You’ll die without knowing quite what you did to earn such ire from the Primarch, but at least your suffering will be minimal. 

His teeth graze your jawbone; you feel the feral heat of his mouth, the smell of his breath, like — like mint, actually. Odd. You thought it would smell of blood, that he would have curds of dried flesh stuck between his canines, like a beast from the wastes — but no. Mint. Spearmint, if you’re not mistaken. Your brain, careening sky-high with terror, picks out that little detail like it is somehow important. 

His hands — not gauntleted, for once, but bare, though no less strong, and no less lethal — go to your waist and lift you up. Your legs dangle haplessly; your nervous system feels like it is starting to shut down, tendons and muscles slackening; failing any other option, your lizard brain is trying to make the rest of you play dead. Like the Lion is the sort of hunter to be fooled by such a trick. Like he is the sort of man to leave his prey alone once it has perished. You know what he does to the things he kills; he’s made sure to show you. How he bears them to the ground, drives his sword into flesh, rends apart limbs, plucks out hearts, makes trophies from the skulls of once-terrible creatures. You have no idea why he insisted on making you watch, on threatening you so, but you have quickly learned that to look for meaning in the Lion’s actions is a fool’s errand. 

He explains himself to no one, not even his sons. He is a force of nature, as inexplicable as the storm, as ruthless as winter’s cold breath. 

He lifts you higher, his teeth at your jugular now. You taste your heart in your mouth, red and burning, and yet he still does not deliver the killing blow. Instead, he grunts with frustration. 

“Woman, your legs —there —“

Holding you up with one hand, he uses the other to manipulate your limbs to his liking — which, bizarrely, apparently is around his waist? Well: as around his waist as you can reach. Your thighs are forced into an awkward stretch, your knees resting at his hips, your feet dangling near his buttocks. 

“Tighten your grip — like that.”

You obey, rendered mute with fear and confusion. What is this — some kind of pre-slaughter ritual? Getting you to hold onto him so your body is more conveniently placed for the kill? You imagine him biting out a bloody chunk from your neck; the way the gore would stain his beard and splash down your front. Maybe he intends to devour you. You’ve heard tales of the dietary habits of the Emperor’s champions — of blood-soaked angels, and of dark-winged shadows who chew on human skin — and it only makes sense that the Lion shares appetites with his namesake —

His lips touch yours; his tongue fills your mouth. His hands slide from your waist to your arse and squeeze firmly; this time, the grunt sounds almost appreciative. 

It is only at this point that you realise oh. Oh. 

Having discovered your mouth, and apparently worked out the logistics of kissing someone less than a quarter of his size, the Lion rumbles deep in his chest; a sound that you feel in your marrow, and does little to quell your terror. He’s kissing you. Oh sweet Emperor he — you have no clue what to do, what are you meant to do, is he still planning to eat you —

He plunges his tongue deeper into your gullet, almost choking you. Drool slips down your chin — the divine drool of the Emperor’s son, you think, your mind unstitching with hysteria. 

The Emperor’s Son. The Primarch of the Dark Angels. 

And he’s kissing you. Badly. 

Your hands are shaking, but you force yourself to cup his face, feeling the bristle of his beard beneath your palms. You’re half-convinced that he’s going to snap your hands off, leaving you with bloody stumps, but he doesn’t. He nips at your lower lip, and squeezes your arse again. You are going to be black and blue when he’s done with you; you can already feel your tender flesh start to bruise. 

Right. You refuse to let ‘choked to death on the tongue of a Primarch’ be your epithet. Mindful of his teeth, you kiss him back, tightening your legs around his waist, combing your fingers into his hair, trying to guide him into something a little gentler — or, at the very least, less wet. 

The instant you touch his scalp, he recoils, his gold eyes blazing.

”I’m sorry!” you say — by now you are well-used to gibbering apologies when he’s vexed at you, even though you are quite convinced you have done nothing wrong.

”Why?” he says, his voice low and rough, his nostrils flaring as he pants. “I liked it. Do it again. Do it while I fuck you.”

While he — what. Your mind goes shrill and empty with confused terror, your lips hanging open as you try to think of anything remotely constructive to say. The Lion resumes his dreadful attempt at kissing, his tongue slicking over your jaw before plunging into your mouth once more. 

“Wa — wait —“

You shove at his shoulders; a completely fruitless exercise, since you’ve seen him be hit by a literal tank and not move an inch, but he pulls back. 

“What?” he snaps. “What’s wrong?”

”While you — you want to have sex with me?”

”Of course I do,”  he says. “Now, take this off.”

He tugs at your tunic — dark green, embroidered with the Dark Angel’s insignia, standard wear for a serf — but, predictably, the gesture is enough to rip the fabric, splitting it up to the bottom of your breasts. 

“Wait!” you squeal, realising that he’s about to rip the rest away. “I don’t have any other clothes —“

”Don’t need them,” says the Lion, and before you can understand the implications of that, he’s torn the rest of the tunic away entirely, leaving you in leggings and breast-band. 

He glares at the breast-band like it has personally offended him. Maybe it has. 

“Wait — hang on please just wait — I thought you hated me!” you say, the words a stumbling mess as the Lion carries you over to his bed, sitting down, leaving you suddenly very aware that you are in his lap, and he is only wearing his loose linen underclothes, and uh —

Is that a sword? Please be a sword. Please be a warm, throbbing sword that happens to be directly adhered to his groin because if it isn’t a sword and it is what you think it is then you are going to suffer a far more ignoble death than ‘choked on Primarch tongue’. 

“I don’t hate you,” he scoffs. Man of few words. At the baffled look on your face he elaborates: “I want to bed you.”

”I — yes. I guessed that. Now. But — before — I thought you wanted to kill me.”

”I knew you were foolish, woman, but I didn’t know you were simple,” the Lion sneers, hooking a thumb under your breast-band to feel the soft flesh beneath. Despite yourself you shiver. 

“Wait, let me — “ To avoid losing yet more clothing that you cannot afford to replace, you undo your underwear for him, and place it to the side. The room’s silence is only broken by the crackle of the fire, and the sound of his heavy breathing, and your poor, racing heart, thundering in your ears. 

“Good,” the Lion says. He cups one of your breasts briefly, brusquely —squeezes it like he’s checking a fruit at the marketplace for ripeness — and then the room whirls around you, and your face thumps into his pillow. It takes you a moment to process what he’s done: flipped you onto your belly, which means — 

Cold air strikes your thighs as your leggings go the same way as your tunic. His teeth graze your calf, then close — bizarrely — around your knee, and you wonder if he has any idea what he is meant to be doing here. 

He hoiks you up by your hips, forcing you onto your tip-toes, and you feel his finger slide between your lips, prodding around like he’s looking for something. 

He has no idea what he is meant to be doing here, does he?

He finds your hole, and slides his finger in briefly. Your body, despite everything, has responded either out of unexpected arousal or sheer self defence and you’re slick and sticky around his digit.

Then he withdraws his finger, lifts you up even more, so your legs are forced to butterfly around him, and you feel something huge and blunt and warm nudge at your entrance and the head of it is bigger than your entire damn cunt. 

“Stop it!” you scream, loud enough to startle even yourself. “Stop it you damn fool, if you just put it in you’ll kill me!”

Silence follows, as thick as a shroud. Your flanks heave as you suck in air, and realise that you have called the Lion a damn fool, and he has burned planets for less. 

“What did you say?”

His voice is a low rumbling threat. Your fingers curl helplessly into his sheets. 

“I mean — my lord, you cannot just insert yourself into me — you are very big, and I’m not ready, and it will tear me and — and then you’d only be able to bed me once, and not for very long at that!”

Unless you want to fuck a split open corpse, you think but do not say. 

The Lion doesn’t let you go. You feel his cock resting across your buttocks, and onto the small of your back, like a damn threat. 

“Women birth children. They can stretch.”

”Well — yes. Yes they do and they can —“

He’s a virgin. He’s the worst kind of virgin, because he’s a genocidal war lord who thinks that he knows literally everything.

”—but that takes hours and hours of labour and the cervix has to open and you can’t just do it on command!”

The Lion huffs. “A failing of your kind.”

”Yes my lord,” you reply, rolling your eyes into the pillow. “A failing most severe. But — if I may? —“

You wriggle, and much to your relief he understands that at least, and lets you go. You roll onto your back, wanting to keep an eye on the Primarch. 

“When — “

You stop. You can’t start explaining what happens when a man and woman lie together to the Lion; you think he might well kill you for patronising him — and even if he didn’t, you’d probably suffer a shame-induced heart attack. 

Instead you try a different tactic:

”Humans are weak, frail things my lord — human women especially so. I can’t just…take your cock inside me with no preparation. It would damage me. I am — I am honoured that you desire me but — but can we start things slower? Please?”

He looks unconvinced; though that could just be his face, which — even at rest — seems set in an expression of simmering anger. 

“Like — can I —?”

You gesture to his cock; the absurdity of you being so careful to seek permission when his seduction technique was apparently limited to grabbing is not lost on you. Still. He’s a Primarch. The rules are different. 

“If I wanted my cock stroked I could do it myself.”

“Yes my lord. Of course. But — let me just —“

You lean forwards and lick up his shaft, tasting salty arousal and the plain-scented soap all the Astartes here seem to use. Soap. Mint. He washed before coming here. He brushed his teeth and sweetened his breath. He wanted to impress — if he just intended to force you he would have done so already. 

(The bar is on the Emperor-damn floor, isn’t it?)

He moans, his head lolloping back. You weren’t expecting quite such a dramatic reaction, and a perverse sense of pride kindles in your chest. 

“Yes — yes, like that,” he moans, and shuffles back against the headboard, spreading his legs wider. “Keep going.”

For the next half hour, you perform the most nerve-wracking fellatio of your life. You lick his shaft, and mouth gently at his balls; your jaw cracks painfully as you manage to wedge his tip onto your tongue, using your hands to slick over what you can’t reach. The only indication that the Lion is enjoying himself is the occasional little huff or moan — and the pulse of his pre cum onto your tongue. The only words he utters are —

“Eyes on me. Keep them open — want to see —“

— and so you pin your eyes open wide and try to blink as little as possible. As your wrists are starting to ache, and your jaw is twinging, his breathing changes, growing sharper.

“Swallow me —“ he pants, and pushes on the back of your head. His cock rocks forwards into your throat, knocking against your palette, and you instinctively try to draw back. He holds you in place, his hips twitching up, trying to work himself deeper. He’s not going to fit — but he does not see it that way. He wants to fit, so he will. You gargle and choke around him, eyes beginning to water, and he just forces your head down again.

“Swallow — let me in —“

You gulp, hiccuping and choking, and his cock somehow sinks another few inches into your throat, stretching your gullet open. Your feet kick helplessly against the bed.

“So close — good girl — sweet girl —“

His words are disjointed; his hips stuttering forward.

“I’m —“

That’s the closest you get to a warning before he’s cumming down your throat; swallowing is less a choice, more unavoidable. He’s buried so deeply that his seed just spills inside. He keeps you held there, your lips sealed around his cock, until the last little oversensitive shiver.

Then, and only then, does he release you. You sputter and cough, mopping at your teary face, trying not to retch. 

“That was tolerable,” says the Lion. “Now, when you’ve finished your dramatics, get down there and do it again.”

[bunnwich]

HELLO! Do you have a summary of how you portray Leona's personality in your stories? I'm a big fan of your Leona and Yuu stories and I've read them multiple times www /gen I always feel like you just nail how he would act and say things and you inspire me to work on my own fics and get better at writing scenarios with him. Than you in advance ily🙏 🦉anon

How I Portray Leona in General and in Romance

HI ANON! So I've gotten this question a few times and someone in my discord asked me basically the same thing so I'll share with you what I wrote a few months ago about Leona and the general way I write him. (it's quite funny bc a lot of these things come up in Chapter 7 when we see his dream. I AM CURSED WITH APOLLOS'S GIFT OF PROPHECY WITH THIS MAN ISTG)

I hope this is helpful?? I would like to point out that the way I write Leona is fully based on my biases and life experiences. And that a big part of fandom is projecting what you wanna see in characters while still making them feel like the same character we know in canon, yk? Good luck with your fic writing! And thank you!! mwah mwah.💚 --

So Leona takes himself as a direct person, BUT he hides A LOT. He purposely misdirects people to get a reaction out of them. (Ex: pretending to be incompetent to anger someone) or he's playing with them. HE LOVES GAMES. Everyone is a chess piece, he has to feel in control bc that’s all he has ever had over everyone else; his wits. He’s a dickhead. He will say offensive shit to scare people off.

It’s a test to see who sticks around. He has no reservations when it comes to this. You take him as he is. And despite how some people write him he’s kinda silly? Like dad jokes. Why does he joke so much about eating people, who knows? (He says shit like Namby-pamby ffs) Why are you a 40y/o in a 20 y/o body?

I HC he purposely talks casually and gruff to distance himself from his upbringing. (I like to mix proper language and slang with him bc it feels right? Also lots of animal puns, and nicknames. HE'S CORNY AF)

In general, I don't think Leona is an entirely romantic person in canon, however in my timeline, I do HC that he, like Scar has this “want vs need problem” with connection to others. He thinks it's just praise he wants (or to be king) BUT he NEEDS TLC. What was Scar MOST jealous of at the end of the day?? Mufasa’s connections, a ✨queen✨, a family! BEING KING DID NOT MAKE SCAR HAPPY!! He needs to be needed and in Chapter 2 novella, he admits he HAS to numb himself to not care. I feel like this is something he constantly battles with. Yeah, he's lazy but it's partly bc he’s tired. He’s burnt out.

On the surface, he projects 100% nonchalance. He wants you to think everything he says is just "off the cuff", but it's not. He plans everything!!! He’s a mentor, big bro, caretaker. He is not the best at comforting words but he enjoys being a leader bc people appreciate him and look up to him. Something he never got at home.

Leona and ✨Romance✨

He fools himself into thinking he has the upper hand at first and keeps his distance keeping an eye on the object of his affection. Why would you catch his eye? Well, his greatest strength is picking up on OTHER STRENGTHS. Chessmaster. He is a mentorrrr and caretaker lowkey, he wants others to NEED him and rely on him. HE WANTS YOU TO NEED HIM.

At first, he would place himself in your path, trying to be helpful in a very tsundere type way. But he would still be causal and keep ruffling your feathers to gauge how you feel for him. He guards his heart pretty heavily. And more and more he is slowly collecting info about you he would find more ways for these meetings to happen until he realizes: "Oh shit, I’ve caught feelings." This one is the winner. He’s the king of nonchalance but also...he’s a very overly sensitive person. No doubt he’s freaking out a little, he doesn't wanna screw this up. But, he’d never show it.

I do think he wants to be challenged and given some pushback (insert manga panel about "something being harder to get and therefore is better"), He wants to WORK for it, to prove himself to you that you SHOULD choose him. He wants to impress you. It makes him feel alive. A person who keeps him on his toes.

And once this ”game” of cat and mouse starts to happen. He might start to let his guard down if you are shown you can be trusted with his VERY VERY delicate feelings, that you DO accept his flaws, treat him differently than all others, and see past his gruff demeanor. It is a test of sorts. He is testing that you can “handle” him. MORE GAMES.

He’d let you set the pace though. He won't be the first to give in. To kiss you or confess first. But he would fall first HARD. He’s not been given much one-on-one attention in his life so he would crave that time with you. Physical touch is a big one, but he would not be pushy. He'd tease your boundaries and become addicted to your time together.

But yeah, this push and pull goes on for a while, all the while he’s gauging how you react to this. Memorizing it all.

He’s def one of those texters who erases their sentence like 5 times when they are nervous bc he is cookin' up the RIGHT response to endear you. (Not in a sappy way of course more in a: “I know you miss me, mouse.” snarky sorta way.) Though he can be self-deprecating on bad days. He’ll act confident, though soften up behind closed doors.

I think once he realizes that you have picked up on his simpery and there's no going back...all bets are off. He doubles down, no longer ashamed of hiding it. (Assuming at this point the person has reciprocated these feelings too!) He wants to be yours and he’s not subtle. Someone to be by his side.

Then you get the REAL simp Leona, who lowkey mumbles the sappiest shit to you in his native language when he holds you, (bc he’s still embarrassed to be vulnerable, though this will fade over time) He’ll be your biggest supporter, and wants you around him as much as you can be.

This just keeps going until you're married. Congrats you now have a lion to take care of forever.🦁 Hope this helps!✨

[spamton-speaks-to-me-actually]

I want a version of Wicked which is also the Wizard of Oz,like Dorothy and the rest of the gang still go on their adventure but the whole time Scarecrow/Fiyero is like "I wish my ex and my other ex didn't start this whole conflict Dorothy" and Dorothy is like 11 years old, dealing with the soap opera drama of this polycule and Tin man/Boq isn't making this any better by being an incel.

[ozzgin]

Hiiii random question but with all your monster an animals buddy’s like asylum spider an shark loan shark, was or is there a tiger or lion? I’d imagine the tiger would be a mod boss maybe the lion owns a famous hair saloon with all the hair he has! Anyways love all your work! An feel free to ignore I bet your very busy with how popular your work is!😊🥳

Lion!Hybrid is the owner of a popular hair salon. It's not just the skill that's gotten him to the top, but his warm, welcoming nature. While passersby are initially intimidated by his massive frame, they're quickly put to ease by his charming smile and soft voice.

Tiger!Hybrid is not only a regular of the salon, but Lion!Hybrid's childhood friend. He's a professional boxer and the underground leader of the local gang. He has to come after work hours to get his hair fixed because he scares all other clients with his threatening aura.

"Sorry, I'm afraid we're closed for the day-"

The beastly stylist stops in his tracks once he notices the small human who sheepishly made their way in: you.

"I'm sure you can fit one more person", his tiger friend swiftly remarks once he sets his eyes on you.

"You're right."

They exchange a peculiar, knowing look, and a faint smile crosses both their expressions.

"May I ask for your name?" the lion ushers you to the nearest seat.

"It's (Y/N)."

Well, (Y/N), welcome to the salon. Hopefully it's to your liking, because you will be back. They'll make sure of it.

Especially now that you've caught their interest.

[More hybrids and doodles]

[littlelioncub43]

Ok but Spider-Man kissing Eddie while he lays on your bed with his head dangling off the edge, he just said something silly that made you laugh, you're sitting on the floor, digging through your sweaters when you look over at him and you're just so in love with him. You couldn't help it, you crawl over, softly cradle his face in your hands and press a sweet, tender little kiss to his lips out of pure love and happiness.

And when you pull back from the kiss, he's looking at you with a dumb, happy, lovesick smile and that twinkle in his eyes that you swear is actual sunshine.