#a warmth the size of our palms

[toushindai]

a warmth the size of our palms

Link has saved the kingdom once more, and Zelda is herself again. But she notices a persistent grief in her knight, whenever he looks at his right arm...

Post-TOTK, 2.4k, rated G. I will leave it up to your preference whether Zelink is romantic or not but they care about each other deeply.

[ Read on AO3 ]

*

The cries of triumph and relief that greet Zelda and Link’s arrival at Lookout Landing almost bring Zelda to tears. They cheer for her like she’s real royalty—all except for Purah, who foregoes such formality and instead sweeps her and Link both into a crushing hug.

“Oh, thank the goddess. I knew you’d bring her back to us, Linky—hm?” Purah pulls back and takes a good look at Link. “Your arm, it’s… back to normal?”

“Your arm?” Zelda looks at her knight with a sudden sharp sting of concern. She remembers what Ganondorf did to it, but she knows so little of what Link has done since then, and it hadn’t occurred to her to ask—

But she sees at a glance that the question puts Link on the spot. He lifts his right arm and makes a vague gesture before signing, “After what Ganondorf did to me, Rauru gave me his arm. But when…” He waffles over his words. “Before I caught you, he healed it.”

Save for that moment of hesitation, he signs evenly and impassively. Zelda’s brow furrows, just slightly. He glances once at her face, and then turns his gaze away. Zelda’s stomach plunges. She has never seen a clearer sign of his discomfort.

Purah doesn’t notice it. “Caught her? What do you mean, caught her? Where was she, Link?”

Link’s posture becomes even stiffer, and in an instant, Zelda knows: he hasn’t told Purah what she did. Has he told anyone? Or has he carried it sealed in his heart alone? A slow-dawning horror sinks into Zelda’s chest.

But she doesn’t let it show. Instead she breaks into a smile—she feels herself doing it, feels how deliberate it is—and says, “Honestly, Purah, I’m still exhausted, and I can’t even begin to imagine how Link must feel. Is there somewhere quiet where the two of us could rest?”

With a few brusque words, Purah clears out the emergency shelter beneath Lookout Landing for their sake. As the door grinds into place, shutting out the happy bustle of the fort’s inhabitants beginning to realize that the worst of their problems are behind them, Zelda sees Link relax slightly. But not entirely.

“Would you like a cake?” he offers, and Zelda knows that this is how he shows his care. She smiles and nods, and she does not let herself stare at him too much as he sits down in front of the pot and begins to ready his ingredients.

She has plenty else to look at: papers and reports scattered across the tables, maps tacked up on the wall. A “Missing!” poster with her portrait and Link’s. A goddess statue, of course, and she does not feel as much of a guilty, panicked twinge as she used to when she sees it. But as she flips idly through a copy of the Lucky Clover Gazette that tells of a convoluted Yiga plot involving a talking cucco, her attention does keep getting drawn back towards her knight. For a moment, he seems almost at ease; he really does love to cook. But as she watches, he reaches out his right hand in the vague direction of the egg he’d set aside. There is a strange pause, and then she sees him turn his head to look at his arm. His face is expressionless. He leans to the right, picks up the egg, and cracks it into the bowl. He is not as relaxed now as he was before.

“Link…” Zelda says. He looks her way, eyes attentive. Zelda shakes her head minutely. It’s not that she needs something from him. Something in his face pulls closed at that realization, and then she sees his lips press together in the barest hint of a suppressed frown. She comes to sit to his left, pulling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She says, “I left a lot on your shoulders.”

He hesitates, then puts his cooking utensils down so he can sign. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I… can’t, right now. Talk about it, I mean. But it isn’t because of anything you did.” Another pause. He reaches for the bowl, but before he picks it up, he stops. “It’s gotten harder for me again,” he confesses, and Zelda’s heart breaks for him.

“I’m home,” she promises him, and his eyes soften with affection and relief.

The cake he bakes for her is delicious.

*

Mineru’s passing is harder on Zelda than she expected. So she is glad when Riju formulates some excuse that pulls the sages and Purah away to explore the Great Sky Island, leaving Zelda alone with Link. He opens his arms to her and lets her weep for as long as she needs to.

“Thank you,” she says, when at last she can dry her eyes.

Link’s hand hesitates on her arm, and then he signs, “The three of them were like a family to you.”

“They were.” She gives a weak smile. “You can imagine how complicated that felt.”

“I have imagined it,” he answers seriously. And then, “Is there a way up to the roof?”

There is, of course. Zelda leads him up there, to the sand garden. The construct stationed there remembers her and greets her as though perhaps only a month has passed since she last spoke to it. Rauru had said that most of them were created long before he was born. And here they are, persisting long after his death. This one glides quietly away to give them their space, and Link walks towards the edge of the roof to look out across what was once the Garden of Time. Zelda approaches him and stands as silently as he does.

He gazes over the golden island, then looks down at his right hand, opening and closing a fist. Then he cranes his neck back and shades his eyes to look at an island that must be half a kilometer above this one.

“When I woke up,” he says, his hands moving haltingly, “my arm had been replaced.”

She looks at him. He looks down at his hand, running his thumb across his own palm, over his fingers. “It didn’t feel as weird as it should have. That hand responded like it should, I could still sign, I could still fight. It…” But he cuts himself off there, waving away the rest of the thought. “You gave up your body and mind,” he says.

She can see the self-recrimination in the movement of his hands and the set of his shoulders. She says, “I made the choice to do so, of my own free will.”

Link’s brow furrows. He signs, “Understand, it wasn’t bad. Especially once I started understanding the powers of the Zonai. Did you ever see Rauru or Mineru use those?” Zelda nods. “I learned to use them. And then it was like they had always been a part of me. Because they were a part of me. Or, I was…” He trails off once more and lets his hands fall to his sides. Closing his eyes, he inhales deeply of the cool air for a silent, serene minute. Then, “I’m sorry that Mineru left, too.”

The pain squeezes Zelda’s heart again. But she says, “It was her time. I think… she may have lived through those thousands of years, in a way that I didn’t.”

Link glances at her and nods. He must have gotten the same impression.

Zelda thinks about Mineru as she was: thinks of that dark and dusty library/workshop and Mineru’s focus on her work. Mineru had already been working on those constructs, Zelda knows. Mineru had already intended to outlive her body, even before Ganondorf’s treachery. And she had been kind to Zelda, and interested in her, but she had never been warm. Her gaze had always been directed somewhere else, until that moment when Zelda had confessed her plan to her.

“I wish she could have stayed a little longer,” Zelda confesses. “But… I think it’s right for her to move on.”

Link looks down at his hand one more time. Then he nods, silently.

*

The rhythms of a peaceful life welcome them back, billowing them gently through the days like a breeze. They travel around Hyrule together as it heals from the Upheaval, and when they tire, they go home to Hateno. There may be a new home waiting for them outside Tarrey Town, but there is comfort in the familiar, for now.

And things are familiar. Sometimes—as has always been the case since they defeated Calamity Ganon—there are days when Link needs to clear his head. Sometimes he is struck with a strange, wandering restlessness, and he heads out alone and returns when he is ready.

Zelda knows the feeling, she thinks; there are still mornings when she wakes up thinking that she has to go, to do. Bearing the weight of the world is, it turns out, a hard habit to break. Even in the past, despite Sonia’s gentle admonishment, Zelda had not been able to shake the feeling that she needed to be the one to stop Ganondorf’s dark designs against the peace of the newborn Hyrule Kingdom.

(She had not quite been wrong about that, in the end.)

When Link returns one evening, Zelda asks, “Do you still go to spend time with the dragons, when you go out?”

That is what he’s done in past years, he’s told her. He has said that he finds serenity in their beautiful, implacable progression through the skies. When Zelda realized what she had to do, she remembered Link saying that, and truth be told it had brought her some peace.

But now she regrets asking it. A stricken expression shoots across his face before he composes himself, and for several long minutes, he does not speak. He only pulls off his boots, removes his leather armor and chainmail. Takes the hairtie from his hair and ruffles it loose. He wears it a little longer now than he used to.

Not looking at her, he signs, “Do you remember anything at all?”

Zelda swallows and gives a helpless shrug. It isn’t that she remembers. But sometimes, when the breeze comes through the window just so, she… slips. The way her mind works shifts, and she feels an unbounded, wide-open tranquility. And when Link touches her arm to bring her out of it, it doesn’t always work the first time, because sometimes that sliver of his familiar presence is part of it, too.

Link signs, “There was one time, I think I spent three days lying on your forehead, wishing you knew me.” And she opens her mouth to say—what can she say?—but he waves his hand and says, “The dragons don’t bring me peace anymore.”

Zelda says, “I’m sorry.”

“It isn’t your fault. And it may have always been selfish of me. They aren’t for me.”

I was, Zelda thinks, but she doesn’t say it aloud.

Again, Link’s hands fall still. He pulls the Purah Pad off his belt, hands it to her, and goes to the kitchen. There, he begins to chop the vegetables he’s brought home. Zelda sees carrots and a pumpkin from the village—but also skyshrooms and a stambulb. She flicks open the Purah Pad’s album and scrolls down to the newest pictures; they are full of golden foliage and clear blue sky.

When the vegetables have all been chopped and added to the pot to sizzle quietly, Link’s hands are left idle once more. He sees that Zelda is waiting for him. Indicating the Purah Pad as if to say you’ve figured this out already, he signs, “I go to the sky islands.”

Zelda nods. She looks down at one of the pictures he took, of a heron picking its way through golden grass. “Are they all this beautiful?”

He wiggles his hand. “Not all of them. There’s this one eyesore above Necluda…”

Zelda has seen it from the ground. “Those smokestacks?”

“It was a forge,” he says. For a moment, there is almost amusement on his face. Then something horrible happens. As Zelda watches, he grits his teeth and screws his eyes shut as though he’s in pain. Very abruptly, he pulls out one of the chairs from the table and sits down.

Zelda starts towards him. “Link, are you all right?”

He waves off her concern with a sharp movement. But his annoyance is for himself, not for her. Hands moving roughly, he says, “It was a forge, and that’s all I’ll ever know about it, and it won’t ever be a forge again.” He grips his right wrist with his left hand, clenching his right hand into a fist. “They’re gone,” he signs faintly.

And Zelda’s grief wells up within her, never far away: Sonia’s loving smile, Rauru’s kind eyes, Mineru’s clever creations. They’re gone echoes in her mind and in the places where they made her life brighter, more expansive. She will never stop missing them.

But Link’s grief, she thinks, is of a different shape. Little by little, he has told her of his adventures across Hyrule after the Upheaval. He has taken her to the Shrines of Light to see the puzzles Rauru and Sonia built and shown her the vehicles Tarrey Town has begun to construct from Zonai devices. Wryly, he tells her that he isn’t as handy with these things as he once was, and his eyes say that he’s joking. But even so, even months later, there are moments when he reaches out for something as if he expects it to come to his hand rather than the other way around. There are moments when he offers to grab her something from upstairs and unthinkingly reaches upwards before realizing he’s going to have to take the stairs. Like any other person. Like any other Hylian must.

Zelda sits down beside Link and reaches for his clenched right hand. Gently, she unfolds his fingers and slips her own between them. She knows the shape of this hand; she knows the calluses on this palm. This is her Link, and she wants to know every part of him. If he aches with loneliness for a people he never really knew—a people he was too late to save, the last remnant of them slipping away from him even as she came back—then she will hold this loneliness with him. Even if he cannot shape it into words.

“Link,” she says, “will you bring me to the sky islands sometime?”

(He doesn’t know it, but Zelda does: Sonia asked this question of Rauru once, long, long ago.)

And Link looks into her face and sees all the understanding she can offer him, and she watches a little of the burden ease from his face. He nods, seriously, and squeezes her hand.

Then he stands to continue making their dinner.

[peachesofteal]

Through Me (The Flood) - secret baby fic Simon Riley / female reader - 18+ brief suggestive content

"Why are we stopping here?"

Vacation was great. It was everything you needed, he needed, a perfect slice of memories now engrained in his brain, moving pictures tucked away for him to think about when he's trying to fall asleep alone on a cold, threadbare safehouse mattress.

Not to mention the hundred photos he took of you in that bikini.

But now, it comes to an end. Now, he's about to blindside you with painful, shocking reality.

He didn’t plan it like this, not really. The town is outside of the place he chose for vacation, but not close enough that it’s in a travel path. It’s far enough away from town, tucked into grassy hill, but still close enough to civilization. He’s not a monster, after all. He knows you wouldn’t appreciate being cut off from the world.

Plus, Price and his wife live a few clicks to the east.

"Simon?" He finds your hand, shutting the passenger door and leading you to the walk. “What is this?”

The words stick in his throat, and you watch him warily. “It’s… let’s just go inside.” The keys feel like an anchor in his pocket.

“What?” Your face twists in confusion. “Go inside?” You let go of his hand, and the sapphire sparkles in the sunlight. He reaches out of instinct.

“Mama-“

“Don’t ‘mama’ me… tell me what is going on.” You shirk out of his grasp.

“This is our house.” Your jaw drops.

“What?!” You shriek. “Our what?”

“Our house. I bought it, for us. F'you, and Orion.” You're standing a pace away from him now, too far for comfort, shuddering. When you clap a hand over your heart, his body goes cold. Stress. Stress can exacerbate your condition. "I need to keep you safe."

"I... I don't know what to say. You bought a house without asking me?" You're waspish, and he's too fast for you, too tactical. You're in his arms in a second, his fingers pressed to the artery below your jaw. It's too fast.

"Take a deep breath." He murmurs. "Try to calm down, everything is going to be fine."

"No!" You jerk backwards and he lets you go, bereft at the loss of your warmth against his chest. "You don't just get to blindside me with this and then think everything is going to be fine."

"I know. 'm sorry. I just... I need to keep you safe, sweetheart. You and the baby. Your flat is great but-"

"But nothing." You hiss and stomp away, before turning back, slicing through the air with an open palm. "My flat is great. It's my home! Mine and Orion's." You sniffle. "I thought it was yours too." Fuck.

"It is. It has been. But it's not safe. It's too exposed, there's no security, your windows face the street. The neighborhood is too difficult to disappear into and away from. It's too populated."

"Gaz and Cami live there." Not for long. He doesn't tell you about Gaz's long term plans, the ones that involve a house just over the hill. He doesn't think it would do him any favors right now.

"Will you just come inside and look at it, at least?" You shake your head. "It's not a bad drive to the beach. You could take Orion as much as you want. Teach him to swim. We could take as many vacations as you want, as a family. Please, give it a chance. That's all I ask." You cross your arms over your chest, but after a minute, nod.

"Fine."

The house is a blank slate. He didn't have time to get anything done, but he tries to pitch it as a selling point. "You'd be able to do whatever you want." You raise an eyebrow.

"Like paint the kitchen pink?" He swallows.

"Sure." You're trying to test him, punish him, but he's not upset. He can already tell you're starting to entertain it all. The house is triple the size of your flat, with three bedrooms, a sizable kitchen, even a garden.

He follows you around, your finger trailing over the walls, window sills, trying to hold his tongue, allowing you space to work through it in your mind. "What if I have to go into the office?"

"You said you never go into the office. You're completely remote." You glare.

"And how are you going to get here? It's so far from your base."

"There's a small airport to the east. We'll get in and out that way. It will be quick."

"We?" Shit.

"Ah, Price and his wife live, kind of close by." You blink, and then laugh out loud.

"You've got to be kidding me. Is this your plan? Some sort of weird commune for special task force wives?" It's the first time you've said, called yourself his wife, and his cock swells beneath the zipper on his jeans, possessive instinct flowing freely. "Don't."

"Don't what."

"I know that look." Still, you don't move as he stalks closer, close enough you're backed up against the windowsill in the master bedroom.

"What look mama?"

"The caveman look you get. Me husband, you wife." You try to imitate his accent, and he chuckles.

"I love you." You roll your eyes.

"I'm pissed at you." There's fire in you, one that burns too bright to be quelled by most, but he's made it is business to know you so well, he can tell when there's something simmering beneath the surface.

"But you like it." Your skin is satin soft, and he strokes your cheek.

"I do. I'm really mad, but I do like it. You... you did a good job."

"Gonna forgive me?"

"Depends." You smirk. "Are you going to earn it?" He presses himself to the inside of your thigh.

"How can I do that?"

"Want to christen our new bedroom?"

[tired-teacher-blog]

When your baby started kicking for the first time, you immediately sprinted towards your husband who was still deep in slumber in the comfort of your shared king sized bed, it was only 3:30 in the morning after all, a little too early to rise, and you would have been snuggled up to him if your bladder capacity hadn't prevented it for the third time that night.

_ "Katsuki wake up wake up, you have to feel this! It's moving!" you announced in a loud whisper while shaking him lightly.

_ "Huh what, what's moving? Do I need to blow it up?" he was obviously disoriented as he tried to blink the sleep away, knitting his eyebrows in concentration so he could focus his blurry vision on you.

_ "What? No, are you crazy?" you bursted out laughing at his unexpected response, and waited for him to gain full consciousness as he wobblily sat up to face you.

_ "Is everything okay?" he reached out to gently trace your cheek, and you could tell he was fully awake at last.

_ "Here, feel this," you took his other hand and placed it on your bulging tummy, "our baby is moving."

His eyes widened and his mouth hung open in obvious amazement, and you watched in awe as your husband's face lit up at the new feeling under his palm.

_ "This is real, we're actually having a baby." the wide, almost face-splitting smile appearing on his face was the same one he had when you announced your pregnancy a few months ago, and the warmth it evoked in you was also the same as back then.

_ "We are Katsuki." and you couldn't help the tears of joy welling up in your eyes as you watched the bliss radiating from him, placing your hands on top of his and holding on tightly.

That night -and every following night- he kept his hand on your belly when you climbed back to bed, holding you from behind and rubbing soothing patterns on your tightening skin while kissing your neck and whispering sweet 'I love you's' and promises for eternal happiness together, until you finally drifted off again.

[bi-writes]

huhhhhh more bestfriend!roommate!simon x fem!reader because i want them to touch

more bestfriend!roommate!simon (part 4/?)

cw: nsfw (18+), suggestive language and content, mature language and content, kissing over the mask, simon "my girl cums first" riley, fem!receiving touching, praise kink, size kink, simon's thicc thighs need a warning, simon "the mask doesn't come off" riley

simon had a bad habit.

a nose-scrunching habit, a oddly pretty habit, a clouding habit.

you shut the door behind you, locking it. you dropped your keys by the door, slipping your sneakers off and hanging your jacket up. you had the day shift today, so simon let you walk home on your own. but he didn't know when you were coming home, and you suspect that's why he was outside on the balcony, a cigarette between his index and middle finger as he leaned against the wall.

you come up to the sliding door, narrowing your eyes before knocking on the glass. simon didn't move immediately, but you saw him turn his face away, tossing the cigarette onto the floor and stubbing it out with the toe of his combat boot. when he turned to look at you, his mask was on, and there was a little apprehension in those dark eyes.

you gripped the handle of the door, sliding it open. he moved to stand in front of you, taking up the entirety of the doorway, broad shoulders taking up the width of the space.

"luv--"

"shut the fuck up, simon," you snapped. you reached over and gripped the front of his hoodie, yanking him inside. he had to maneuver his shoulders to slip inside, and you brought him right up against you so you could glare right up at him. "you know, it's one thing to come back from your boys' nights smelling like it, but in our home?! simon! how many times do i have to tell you that those things will kill you?!"

he sighed, shaking his head a little.

"trust me, luv," he murmured. "this isn't what'll kill me."

"you shut up," you reached up and gripped his masked chin, forcing his eyes on yours. your eyes were a little watery, and your bottom lip trembled. "don't say things like that. don't you dare."

the air was a little stiff. simon was a bit ashamed, averting his gaze. you leaned up and put both hands on his cheeks, putting his eyes on yours again.

"look at me, simon," you said lowly. "i...i cant tell you what to do. i'm not your mother. but i don't like it. its not good for you. i..." you looked down. "i'm sorry. i'm not trying to...i'm not trying to control you, i just--"

"its alright, luv," he quieted you. "it's alright, i know."

you sighed, dropping your hands to rest on his chest. your splayed your palms there, feeling the warmth of him. you held back a smile when you noticed him puffing out his chest a bit, flexing the muscles under your palms as you pressed against solid flesh.

"big, bad lieutenant riley..." you hummed lowly. "nothing can kill you, is that it?"

simon narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as he grunted.

"dunno what'll kill me, luv, but it won't be a bloody smoke."

you smiled wide finally, your eyes sparkling as you looked towards the kitchen.

"what do you want for dinner, simon? did you go shopping like i asked?"

"'f course i did," he said quickly, his tone nearly offended for even a hint that he you had doubted that he would do ask you asked. you let go of him, making your way to the kitchen. simon let his eyes wander. you were still wearing your uniform from the diner, pretty white and red stripes in the most adorable dress he'd ever seen. he'd curse the man who'd made you wear it the day he saw it the first time; his gaze that couldn't help but follow the valley of your breasts, the way the skirt fell over the curve of your ass--he felt like a teenager fawning over something so trivial about you, so physical and seemingly superficial, but you looked fantastic in it. his beautiful girl, the one he had known since she was only 17, how she grew and blossomed and before he knew, there was no other woman who could take up as much space in his mind as you.

simon had been to many dark places. the dark edges of torture, the narrow walls of being cornered by an enemy, the hot places where hell was just right over the cliff--he was a machine of order and sheer will, he had killed the parts of himself that never quite suited him for war, but somehow, this place with you stayed the same. it was the one constant he knew, the one constant that just never, ever changed, and for that, he was grateful.

you don't think simon riley believes in god. but he believes in you.

simon had been around the world. he had seen the worst of humanity, ripped his own right out of his chest, but none of it mattered as he sat down on the couch he had picked out with you. he remembered when you sent him the pictures of it, your voice on the other line of the phone as you told him how much you liked the pieces. he had been on deployment, and while he could care fuck all about what color the couch in your shared living room was, it was important to you so it was important to him.

"simon?"

your voice broke him out of his thoughts.

"simon, could you open that bottle of wine? i need it for the stew."

domestic. fuck, this was too domestic, it was simple, it was calm. simon never flinched, not even when a bullet would hit the wall by his head, but fuck, the sight of you stirring vegetables in a pot in the kitchen of your shared apartment was making his head spin.

simon riley never missed his target. he set his sights on what he wanted, and with the ease and practice of a lieutenant, he crossed another name off his list.

and one could say that his pretty, little roommate, the woman who had been there before the scars and loved him even after them, was another target. your figure was in his sight, but fuck, his hand was shaking.

when the pot was simmering, you poured yourself a glass of wine and came towards him on the couch. simon was sitting, legs spread a little wide, his hands on his thighs as his eyes were fixed on the low hum of the television. you took a seat beside him after setting aside your glass, putting your feet up underneath you and leaning up against his arm.

"simon? everything alright?"

he turned to face you. a low shadow hung over his face, the hood of his jacket making his face appear even darker despite the mask he wore. you reached over under the hood and brushed a few strands of his hair off his forehead, tracing a small scar against his hairline. you smiled at him, running your knuckles down his temple. in the low light, you could barely see even his eyes, but simon spoke so much with just his eyes. they were beautiful. they were alive, had so much emotion, and you wondered always if maybe simon had learned to speak with them knowing it was the only part of him truly visible.

you lowered your gaze as he pressed his forehead to yours. his skin was warm, and you put a hand on his thigh to steady yourself. you swallowed, noticing how much smaller your hand looked next to his. he wore gloves, like always, but it didn't hide the size of him.

lieutenant simon riley. your simon. built like a fucking bear, a mind of impenetrable steel, eyes that had seen the nine circles of hell and wouldn't spill any of their secrets, simon riley who died and a ghost who brought him back and the woman that he dreamed about when they had taken everything from him except his goddamn memories--

he was kissing you. not in the way other men had kissed you, but in the way that simon riley would kiss you. the front of his mask met your lips, a touch of fabric that was warm and soft and melted your insides with a thousand unspoken words. he whispered your name against your lips, a quiet thing that felt like prayer. and maybe it was a sort of prayer, one that only he could make real, one that only he could make sound like faith and all the ugly, sorry truths that it brought with it.

but there was nothing ugly about this kind of prayer. it held no malice. it was pretty and soft and the only kind of word that ever brought him memories and not nightmares.

you were the one to press your lips to his. even through the fabric, it was like kissing someone for the first time. but not just anyone, simon. simon--simon who kissed your tears when you got stood up at a school dance. simon who promised into your hair that he would come back when you discovered the letters about his deployment overseas. simon who beat the manager at the first bar you ever worked at for following you home one night after your shift. simon who died when his family did and then came back, but only within the walls of your shared apartment and nowhere else.

simon, simon, simon--

his hand was under your dress. one gloved palm slipped up the back of your skirt, caressing one side of your ass as he guided you into his lap.

"simon--"

you choked on his name when you felt bare fingers slide over the edge of your panties. you reached up and cupped both sides of his face, whining as he moved his fingers under the fabric. your cunt was wet and glossy, and he pressed his face into the palm of your hand when he realized just how much time he had wasted being anything other than yours. and he had always been yours, but fuck, why hadn't he ever told you?

"youre so pretty, luv..." he smoothed his other hand up your back, tangling his fingers in your hair and tugging just enough to make you moan. "so pretty...so bloody wet...have you always been like this?"

you nod, unable to speak. his fingers spread your puffy folds apart, a soft wet sound that makes you cry. you want him to put those fingers inside of you, to make you ride his hand until you see nothing but white, but you just cant seem to form any words.

"oh, luv...youre a bloody mess..." he chuckled a bit. "fuckin' hell...let me see you--"

he picked up the skirt of your dress, his dark eyes flickering down. he cursed his breath, fisting the lace of your panties and ripping them right off. you whimpered as he tossed them onto the floor.

"christ, luv, can't believe i ever let this cunt be with another man. look at ya. it's fuckin' christmas mornin', aye?"

"you hate christmas--"

"dunno. could be more inclined if i got to have you in the mornin'."

"fuck you--"

"not yet, sweetheart."

simon never really thought you were much of a singer. but the crying and the begging and the moaning was music--and he was learning how to play you just right.

fingers teasing your cunt, he can feel the way your body aches for something more--something big and eager and warm, something that needs you badly, but fuck--you're so pretty with his name in your mouth and your cum on his fingers.

mine, mine, mine--

he grunted when you gripped his wrist, steadying his fingers enough so you could sink down on them. he groaned lowly, watching you tilt your head back and ride his fingers. sinking those gorgeous hips down again and again, putting his hand to use in a way that felt wrong up until now. fuck holding a sniper rifle and putting bad men to sleep--his hand was made to please you, that much was clear to him now.

you were so tight. grinding slow against him, dripping down his fingers, crying out when his thumb moved a gentle circle over your clit and his fingers slipped up enough to graze a pretty spot inside of you.

"nnngghhh--simon--"

"that's it, luv...'s it..."

you laid your forehead against his, nodding along to his words but your thoughts were only on the feeling of him. one finger, a second finger, a third--fucking up into you and feeling the squeezing of your soft walls and touching you in every way that made you dizzy and warm and cock-drunk--

"fuck, fuck, fuck--!"

you sobbed against his covered mouth as you came over his hand, a cloud of euphoria and pleasure and the soft thoughts of him that seemed to string together in some wonderful, hazy picture of him. simon was all hard lines, rough edges, the cut of broken glass or the wrong end of a gun, but it never mattered to you.

simon was the beginning and the end, of what, you weren't sure, but he was the beginning of something and definitely the end of it.

his eyes were on yours, dark, beautiful eyes that never lost their gentleness even when they should've been permanently black with his rage. simon was not angry. simon was not bent on revenge or eager to kill or smiling the face of death.

no, simon was in love. simon was so fucking in love.

[swanlikely]

Current Nanami Brainrot: Husband Nanami!

TW & Content: Sexual Harrassment, Violence (barely), Cunnilingus, Penetration, Usage of she/her pronouns, and bad writing?

Thinking about Nanami watching his pretty little wife sway softly to the suggestive music that hummed over the audience in the club. His eyes followed every sultry move, a small smirk playing on his lips as he nursed the whiskey in his strong palm. Nanami, being the ever-so-sweet husband he was, agreed to accompany you on your night out with your girls, ensuring your safety while secretly enjoying the view. Chuckling, he couldn't help but trace every curve of your body with his eyes, reminding himself how lucky he was. The way you moved, so effortlessly seductive, captivated him completely.

The mood and your fun were immediately ruined when a man, barely a few inches taller than you, sauntered up against you. The horrible sensation of his front pressing against your rear drove you to swivel quickly around, your face plastered in disgust. As the event unfolded, Nanami was already downing the whiskey and approaching you, his instincts kicking in.

"Please don't do that. I'm married," You yelped over the blaring music, fighting back the bitterness in your voice. The man with no manners cocked his bushy brow, appearing to be enticed by your attitude, and placed a rough hand on the side of your waist. His hold was unwanted and aggressive, causing dread to flare up in your chest.

"I don't see your husband here, do I? Besides, what's a married woman doing in a place like this, wearing that?" he spat, his eyes raking over your body with a predatory gleam. The anger surged through you as you realized he was referring to the black, tight dress Nanami had lovingly picked out for you. The dress that made you feel confident and beautiful, now tainted by this stranger's leering gaze.

"He's right here," Nanami's voice uttered reassuringly as he swatted the stranger's hand off your waist. Relief washed over you as your mountain of a husband placed his large hand on the small of your back. He wasn't just rubbing little circles or patterns; he was tracing letters, grounding you with each gentle touch.

"Sorry." He traced, so courteous as always.

"Ah, well. Maybe you shouldn't let your wife out looking like that. Gonna give someone the wrong idea," the rude stranger mumbled, swiping at the back of his hand where Nanami had gripped so tightly to pry him off you. Nanami was like a tree, towering over the pathetic man before you, both in sheer size and presence.

"Looking like what?" you scoffed, taking a step forward. Nanami still kept his hand on you but didn't intervene. He knew you were capable of handling yourself. He knew better than to stop his wife in the moment. "Like a slut," the stranger laughed, the sound actually nauseating to Nanami's ears. He rolled his eyes, knowing only a child would call a beautiful woman in a designer dress that. Only he could do that, though under different circumstances.

You rolled your eyes at the insult, mirroring Nanami's earlier gesture. With a swift pivot, you grasped Nanami's hand with your right, feeling the comforting strength in his grip. Using your left hand, you boldly flipped the bird at the stranger, your heart racing with a mix of defiance and satisfaction.

But before you could completely walk away with your kind husband, the stranger grumbled and reached out to pull your hair. Except, you didn't feel a thing. Instead, you felt your husband shift, and your eyes followed suit. Nanami was gripping the man by the back of his neck. God, did he look delicious, his arm flexing through the thin fabric of his button-up. His eyes were cold and fierce, a stark contrast to the warmth you always felt from him. You couldn't help but ogle at the way his muscles tensed.

"We shouldn't put our hands on pretty ladies, now should we?" Nanami asked the man, his voice dripping with a disgustingly sweet tone. He tossed the man onto the floor, and he landed on his rear with an "Ugh." Nanami tossed him like he was nothing. Good lord.

Nanami began to gently fold up the sleeves of his dark blue button-up, revealing forearms that could probably make angels weep. He was the living embodiment of "sex on legs." You couldn't help but notice the club's collective gasp as several eyes locked onto the scene, some surprised, others blatantly undressing Nanami with their eyes. Join the club, you thought with a smirk.

Nanami silently squatted down next to the man who was still recovering from the fall, bringing a hand up to grip his collar. Nanami whispered something to the man that you couldn't catch, but whatever it was, it made the stranger's eyes fill with panic.

"I-I'm sorry, ma'am," the man stammered out, bowing his head like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar.

You didn't even respond to the stuttering fool as you just looked at your husband, half-lidded. You were mad, originally. But who could stay angry when your husband was defending your honor, his chiseled jaw clenched and his eyes burning with intensity, making a heat stir in your stomach?

"Are you alright, sweetness?" Nanami asked as he stood up from his position, walking towards you. Towering over you, again. He was just so big.

You nodded and glanced at your girls, who were raising their eyebrows knowingly. They recognized that look on your face—it was the same one they gave their husbands when things got, well, interesting. They waved you off with giggles and a few exaggerated winks, clearly enjoying the show.

"Kento," you grabbed his hand, weaving through the sea of people like a determined woman on a mission. Despite his towering size and rugged masculinity, Nanami always listened to his wife with a smile. Little did he know, you were about to make him the happiest man in the club.

As you pulled him through the exit and toward his car, he started to put the puzzle together. He couldn't help but chuckle, his eyes glued to your ass sashaying in the dress he bought you. "Well, someone's in a hurry," he teased, knowing full well you were about to make his night unforgettable. "Need you," was all you could manage before yanking your husband down to your level with his spotted tie. His lips met yours in a hungry kiss, leaving you breathless. His hands found their way to cup your cheeks. His fingers traced down your neck, each touch causing your skin to ignite.

Your tongue danced on his bottom lip, and he politely allowed you to delve deeper, exploring the heat of his mouth. He tasted absolutely irresistible, a mix of rich whiskey and mint. The flavor was intoxicating, he was intoxicating, making you crave every bit of him even more. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer, so close that you could feel everything.

You could feel his heavy cock pressing against your thigh, the cool metal of the car contrasting sharply with the warmth of his bulge. He was overwhelming. "What's got you so eager, sweetheart?" Nanami mused as he pulled away, just a little, your forehead still pressed against his. His breath fanned against your swollen lips, his chocolatey eyes dark with want. God, he was perfect.

"Can't a woman just want her husband?" you purred, your voice like honey. Husband, oh how he loved when you called him that. It sent a rush straight to his cock, lighting a primal desire that made his breath hitch and his grip tighten on you.

"I guess I'll have to be a good husband and please my wife, huh?" he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise. His eyes never left yours as he reached into his pocket to unlock the car. Like the gentleman he was, he opened the car door for you, his touch lingering just a moment longer. The backseat of his car never looked so good.

Nanami and you slipped inside, and in an instant, Nanami was nestled between your thighs. He was electrifying. His teeth gently tugged your panties to the side, and his tongue working hard on your cunt. He was both sloppy yet precise, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through you. Nanami's big hands roamed your thighs, his fingers pressing into your skin, grounding you in the moment. His tongue worked magic, alternating between slow, deliberate strokes and quick, teasing flicks. The sensation was overwhelming, and you could feel the tension building within you.

Every now and then, he'd glance up, his eyes locking with yours through his glasses, a mischievous glint in them that made your cunt clench around nothing. His dedication to your pleasure was evident, and the way he moved and responded to your reactions showed just how much he loved you. You were dripping, almost sopping at this point.

"Kento, no m-more. I want you," you groaned as your delicate fingers tugged at his neat blond hair. Nanami paused for a moment, his eyes darkening as he looked up at you. The sight of you, needy and breathless, clearly affected him. He slowly rose, his lips brushing a trail up your body, leaving a path of tiny bruises in their wake. You'd scold him for that later.

"God, you're such a good wife," he murmured, his voice deep and husky. His right hand found your waist, while his left undid the zipper of his slacks, tugging them down just enough to reveal his heavy cock. Even in the barely lit car, it was mouthwatering. He was rock hard and throbbing, all seven inches of him.

As you reach to grab him and pull him into your slippery cunt, he stops you with a tut. "Be patient, sweetheart. Can you do that for me?" His voice, low and commanding, added an extra layer of excitement to the moment. You pant, "Yes sir," as you bring your hands to claw at Nanami's strong arms. Your hands looked so tiny in comparison to him.

Something in him seemed to awaken at the sound of your petname for him, ramming into your cunt. The stretch was overwhelming. His strong arms that you loved so much held you tightly, as he fucked you dumb, completely consumed by the raw walls of your cunt. Your thighs were pushed against your chest as your husband kept pounding into you, his groans and grunts sounding like a symphony.

"So good for me, so perfect," Nanami groaned into your neck, his words vibrating against your sweaty skin. As your climax approached, Nanami continued to sing praises into your ear, telling you how good you were, how much he loved you. "Gonna be a good girl for me? Gonna make a mess all over your husband's cock?" He spat as he nipped at the side of your jaw. You could barely answer, your mind already slipping into ecstasy. Nanami was completely pussy drunk, his cock dragging in and out with a pace you couldn't comprehend.

"Y-yes! Yes, oh god, yes!" you screamed, certain that everyone on the block could probably hear you. But you didn't care, because your husband made your walls gush and clamp around him. Nanami's own high wasn't far after yours as his pace somehow quickened, his head kissing your cervix. "Gonna cum," Nanami groaned.

"Gonna get my pretty wife pregnant," his voice dripped with desire as he continued. His seed was thick and warm, filling you to the brim. As he pulled out, he gently massaged the area above your cunt.

"So perfect." ________________ i need him biblically.

If any of the grammar is bad, I am so sorry. I wrote this while I was ovulating.

[withahappyrefrain]

for the lil prompt list: thinking of our beloved Bob and fixing the others clothing when something is a little bit off (particularly when it’s you doing it to him when he’s in uniform for one reason or another) he’d be so endeared by you :(

Stop he would!!! 😭😭😭

You couldn't have been prouder of Bob. After the mission at Top Gun, he and several others in the squad were being rewarded with a medal of honor.

It meant getting to support your boyfriend. As well as (selfishly) seeing him in uniform.

Bob liked to keep his work and personal life strictly separated. Coming home in his flight suit was a rarity. It was why he had yet to introduce you to his coworkers turned friends.

That and because selfishly, he didn't want to share you.

But today, your own desires triumphed over Bob's. Dressed in his Navy whites, chest adorned by the medals he had already received from previous deployments.

He always looked handsome, like a movie star from the Golden Age. But something about his slicked back hair, face stoic as he stood proud and tall, had you unable to focus on anything else besides Bob.

Once the ceremony ended and the honorees were free to mingle with loved ones, you became laser focused on getting to your boyfriend.

Due to the crowd of what had to be his coworkers, Bob wasn't able to see you waving as you walked towards him.

Your voice would just have to do.

"Bobby!"

Bob looked over Jake's shoulder to see you, an absolute vision in your sun dress, waving excitedly at him.

Ignoring the confused remarks from his colleagues, Bob practically pushed Jake aside, all but running over to you.

Seeing him for the first time in eight weeks had your self control thrown out the window. You threw your arms around his neck, nearly knocking over his hat as your lips pressed against his.

The medals were pressing against your skin but quite frankly, you couldn't find it in yourself to care. You were far too busy reveling in his kiss; his soft lips that were becoming reacquainted with yours, his large palms steadying your body since you all but threw yourself onto him, the delightful scent of sage flooding your nostrils once more.

Bob registered the gawking his coworkers were doing, but he didn't care. Eight weeks was a long time, particularly when he wasn't sure if he would come back from this mission.

He could only hope that you didn't feel the small ring-sized box that was in his pocket.

After breaking apart for much needed air, you beamed as you took him in; blue eyes shining brighter than the sun, his hat now sitting at an angle on his head, pink lips formed into a smile that could best be described as lovesick.

God you loved him.

"I'm so proud of you Bobby," you beamed, your fingers gently adjusting his hat, "and I'm glad others are recognizing how incredible you are."

Bob was at a loss for words, enamored by the way you mindlessly fixed his uniform as you sung his praises. It was an action you had always done, something you didn't even think about. In fact, it was that endearing gesture that caused you to meet Bob. And despite dating for such a long time, it made Bob's heart flutter every time.

You showed your love for him so effortlessly, pouring it into every action, no matter how small.

"Bobby?" You giggled, "You good?"

"Yeah," he chuckled, warmth flooding his body, "Just in love with you, that's all."

He made you want to kick your feet like a school girl. Instead, you settled for placing your hands on his upper back and pressing another loving kiss to his lips.

"Why don't we go meet your squad? I can hear their questions," you chuckled, knowing the team was currently arguing over how long you and Bob had been together.

Bob looked over, wincing at the sight of his coworkers arguing over an apparent bet about him. His grip on your waist tightened.

"Maybe not just yet. Don't want your first impression to be Bradley and Hangman arguing."

You simply smiled, fingers toying with one of his many medals, "That's fine."

Leaning in, your breath was hot on his ear, "Gives me more time to admire you in this uniform."

Maybe they would skip the meeting altogether and head straight home.

[strwberri-milk]

Hello! I read that your inbox was open and I'm not sure if I missed anything but how about a prompt where our 3 best boys got turned into Evol kitties for a day? Maybe the 3 boys got hit while protecting the MC from a wanderer and got turned into an Evol kitty variant of themselves and MC gotta take care of them?

I could imagine the shenanigans that would ensue and how cute they would look hanging out in their tea cups hehe

GRR i love this LMAO

Zayne is a very calm little kitty. He is mildly perturbed that he's turned into a kitten but when you quickly pick him up and tuck him away into your pocket safely he safely stays put and doesn't squirm too much to avoid accidentally falling out of your pocket. You take him home and let him get comfortable on your pillow but he seems much more intrigued in following you around. Even as a tiny little kitten he can't help but nip at your ankle as a subtle reminder to take care of yourself when he catches you falling into an unhealthy habit you've told him you've been trying to stop.

He keeps pretty lowkey, making sure to keep himself out of trouble for your sake considering how dangerous things are for him now that he's a tiny little cat. He knows that you'd worry if you couldn't see him so he makes sure to stay in your sight until he turns back, knowing that the effects will most likely be temporary.

Rafayel is dramatic. Not only is he terrified of cats but now he is one. You find him immediately as soon as you hear him practically yowling, finding him hidden amongst the debris once you get rid of the Wanderer. He crawls into your hands eagerly, nuzzling against your palms and purring now that he feels safe.

Once the two of you get back home you decide to put Rafayel in a little padded basket. You don't trust that he won't run off if he finds something interesting and putting him in said basket means you can at least feel the weight shift before he runs off. Thankfully, he decides to stay put, meowing and pawing at you insistently until you shower him attention the way you do regular cats. He'll happily play with your finger as you use your knuckle to pet his fur and tease his paws, adoring all the attention you're giving him.

Xavier is a little surprised once he realises he's shrunk down to a fraction of his size and staring down at fluffy paws. He pads around a little in confusion, trying to figure out what to do as you scoop him up in your hands. Once you've determined that he's not injured you tuck him into your pocket, the warmth of your body immediately making him fall asleep.

He stays asleep for most of the time, making your mind rest easy without worrying about him running away. You gently tease at him with your finger, cooing at how adorable he looks sleeping in the middle of your pillow. He doesn't mind at all, gently batting your finger away in his sleep and purring happily, deciding to use this time to rest.

[dark-moonlust]

Claimed by the Water Dragon PART 4

Pairing: water dragon x fem human reader

Summary: you are sleeping, tired after caring for your baby dragon. So when your mate hears little Aenon whimper in the middle of the night, he gets up and soothes him back to sleep.

Warnings: safe but since my blog is 18+ as usual minors don’t interact, cuteness and fluff, family warmth, lactating, breastfeeding.

This series is now complete. There is a previous part with smut exclusively on Patreon. Find all free parts here!

It was late in the night. Quiet silence took over your underground home, which you and your dragon mate shared. You now had a small baby dragon as well. Days had passed since your baby broke its dragon shell. Little Aenon was steadily growing, yet he was still small enough to be cuddled into your embrace.

You were sound asleep in bed, nestled up against your lover's huge body. Your cheek was pressed against his soft underbelly, and his wings were delicately folded around you to keep you warm. Strong arms were wrapped around you, keeping you close while he rested. Your baby dragon slept in his crib across the room.

A tiny moan echoed through the quiet room, barely noticeable in your ears but enough to wake your dragon from his light slumber. He raised his head, his ears twitching. Another tiny whine came, more urgent this time. Little Aenon stirred in his crib and whined in the night.

With a hushed sigh, your mate carefully detached himself from you, then tucked your small frame under the covers, and, for someone his size, padded quietly to the cradle. His eyes softened as he looked down at his hatchling, nestled between soft blankets, his small wings fluttering weakly with each weeping chirp. He reached down, his big hand lovingly cradling the newborn dragon, which fit just right in his large palms. But little Aenon continued to fuss, his clawed fists jerking restlessly.

“What’s wrong, little one? Is it your wings? Are you uncomfortable?” the dragon murmured, inspecting Aenon’s wings and body. “No… you’re fine. What is it?”

He paced the room, holding Aenon close and rubbing his back, but the small dragon refused to rest. "What do you need, my fussy little hatchling?"

Leaning against the doorframe, you watched the scene with a warm smile on your lips. You'd heard the cries and awoke to see your powerful partner reduced to a flustered, doting father attempting to comfort your hatchling. You almost didn't want to interrupt—he was so lovely, holding Aenon with such care, his blue eyes overflowing with love and concern.

“Nothing’s wrong, my love,” you finally stepped forward, “our poor little hatchling is only hungry.”

Your mate’s head snapped to you, relief on his dragon features. “Oooh,” he said, his voice sheepish. “Hungry. Right.”

You chuckled and crossed the room to him, taking fussy little Aenon from his arms. “Don’t worry,” you teased your mate, “you’re doing great, but this part? I think it’s my turn.”

“Our son’s a hungry little rascal,” your mate grinned, his sharp teeth flashing. “You fed him but an hour ago.”

“Well, he is a newborn dragon and I have more than enough milk—”

“For us both?” Your mate teased and laughed when you gently slapped him.

“You’ve grown far too greedy, mate,” you said as little Aenon fumbled with your clothes, impatient for his meal.

Your mate scooped you back into bed and watched you prepare to feed your hatchling. He eagerly assisted, as he always did because your tiny dragon was still too small to latch properly on your breast. So your dragon mate gently cradled your mound in his palm, guiding the hatchling to feed from your leaking nipple.

Your mate looked so smug at every feeding. It was his favourite pastime.

"Gods, I wish he never stopped feeding so I could enjoy this sight forever," he growled as the small dragon latched on, his hungry cries melting into coos of happiness.

You chuckled. “Horny dragon.”

“Always,” he replied. “For you. I want to be there every moment, to help you with everything.”

“My love, you are here,” you reassured him with a tender kiss on his snout. “You’re doing so much for me and our hatchling.”

“I wish I could do more. I want our hatchling to know that I’ll always be here for him and his mother, no matter what.”

“And he will know that,” you whispered, eyes shimmering with affection. “Because you’re the most loving, protective father he could ever ask for.”

Your dragon hummed, watching his tiny son in your arms. “I never thought I’d be this… happy,” he admitted. “I found you and you accepted me, created a family with me.”

“That’s because I love you,” you said kissing your baby’s head before returning your gaze to your mate. "You've already given us everything we need: your love, your protection."

Your mate smiled softly. “And I will keep giving you everything,” he promised. “Always.”

I love how this series turned out. Their family is adorable! I hope you liked it too!! Please let me know what you think! Your support is very important to us content creators!

[lavenderovercast]

HUNKING HERO collab with @honeyandberryjuice

summary: you & toshinori get freaky in your office! relationships: yagi toshinori x female!reader warnings: 18+ content under the cut, !! MINORS DNI !! note: me & @honeyandberryjuice decided to work on our own custom kinktober list for this year, so here's a written collab between the two of us! enjoy it you filthy animals <33 tags: blow jobs, (light) praise kink, size kink, office sex, semi-public sex, dick transformation (just gets bigger cuz. u know. all might ), all might AND small might, two for the price of one!, porn w/ out plot, implied aftercare 🌺 prefer to read on ao3? check out the series! 🌺

“Oh my goodness,��� Toshinori panted, his large hands gripping into the leather seat beneath him. The blonde man’s neck was perspired with sweat, his breath and skin hot. The groan that came from his throat was visceral, almost like he was in pain, though he couldn’t be further from it. “You’re… taking all of me so well.” The man managed to gasp out, muscles visibly straining in his arms. The sight drives you absolutely crazy.

 All you can reply with is a deep and satisfied hum, what with your mouth being otherwise busy. Toshinori’s cock was enveloped deeply in your throat, the warmth of it fulfilling your need for the man. The hum you’d given in response seems to send ripples through him, as you feel him jerk in your mouth. You can’t help but feel smug about it.

 You have one hand gripped around his sinewy thigh, and the other one reaches towards his groin to cup his balls. As you begin to massage them gently, a strangled cry erupts from Toshinori and a clammy hand slaps down onto where yours was on his thigh and squeezes. His words are a garbled mess, but you manage to make out, “Jeez, I’m gonna cum. Let’s…” The man pauses to take another gulp of air before continuing, “I wanna try something.”

 Curiousity positively piqued, you remove him from your mouth. Your jaw had begun to ache from taking the size of him anyway, and you’d never been able to say no to him. You quietly hum again as you move, slowly pushing yourself up and off of your knees, resting your hands on the top of the blonde’s thighs. Toshinori’s breath hitched at the contact, and the man finds it increasingly difficult to regain his composure. 

 His dilemma only worsens when you lean your head closer to his, a sweet smile on the same lips that were just wrapped around his aching dick. The man could just about faint when your lips brush against his cheek, warm and soft as they press onto his skin before you speak to him so warmly. “What do you have in mind, Toshi?” 

 Toshinori fights a groan, hands shifting back to the leather seat underneath him. With a squeeze, he furrowed his eyebrows before letting his palms rest on your hips. A surprised noise escapes his you as he lifts you with ease, gently maneuvering you so your sitting on the desk in front of the two of you now. Your hands move to rest on the tops of his own, causing Toshinori to dig his teeth into his lip as he peers up at you. 

 In his eyes, you’re beautiful— a true marvel of the world. Your hair falls around your face and shoulders in a perfect curve, and there’s the sweetest, most trusting smile on your face as you gaze down at him so lovingly. The blonde doesn’t understand how he got so lucky, but he’s grateful for it anyways as he moves to slot himself between your legs. 

 “What do… You think about trying something different?” Toshinori rumbles, ducking his head down to leave loving kisses across your susceptible skin. His teeth grazes your neck, making you sigh and lean into the man with an approving hum. 

 “Depends on your definition of different.” You tease, rubbing your thumbs soothingly against his skin. You’re already fucking the man in an office, so you’re certain that nothing he can propose will be too bold for you to try. 

 The kisses he had been peppering on your complexion began to travel down your body, and you let out a small giggle as his lips tickled your sensitive skin. Your hands instinctively reached up to grab at his dishevelled blonde hair, pulling gently, which caused a low groan to escape the man. You bite her lip at the sound, positively enthralled that you could cause such deliciousness to come from him without even doing much. It seemed to take everything in him to find the focus to reply, “It’ll be better if I just show you. Let me know if, at any point, you don’t like it, ‘kay?”

 The small nod from you was all he needed as he sits back down into the office chair while pulling you down with him. Your soft, warm, naked skin on his caused tingles to travel up his spine, his hands reaching around you to support your back as you settled comfortably on his lap. With ease, he lifts your body up to line himself up with you and slowly enter you, a rumbling groan and a breathy gasp escaping each of you respectfully. 

 He takes a moment to let you adjust, and you dig your nails into his shoulders, making him grit his teeth. Toshinori would describe himself as a gentle lover, but the things you did to him made him want to break furniture and throw you around like a ragdoll, but he was a gentleman and would control himself— Even if every passing second with you only made that challenge all the more difficult. “You okay?” He asked, voice soft.

 “Always,” You respond, though your voice sounds strained. You look at him through your eyelashes, already knowing where his thoughts were venturing. “Please don’t stop. I just forget how much of you there is every time.” There’s amusement in your tone, and your face is wonderfully flush with arousal.

 If Toshinori was a different man, he would’ve been completely self-satisfied about the reactions he got out of you. It was hard not to be, when you have your fingers dug into his shoulders as he slowly rocks his hips forward. A pleased sound leaves you as you tild your head forward to rest your forehead against his shoulder with a shaky exhale. Desperately, you want to be close to him. Desperately, you want more of him, all of him. 

 Instead of taking further pride in himself for having such an independent woman damn near weak in the knees for him, Toshinori rests his lips gently against the top of your head. The smell of your shampoo invades his senses as he pushes forward. He’s slow and careful for you, attentive as always as he allows you to adjust to his length. 

 Another pleased sound erupts from you, this time in the form of a breathy sigh as his hips become flush against your own. A soft pant leaves you, and you left your head up to capture Toshinori’s lips in a kiss. His fingers press gently against your hips as he begins to move against you. The pleased, muffled sounds that leave his lover as he moves make him groan quietly, his own need increasingly growing. 

 The hands on your hips grips you harder, and he lifted you again to slide you up the length of him before pulling you roughly back down to take him fully. A surprised moan burst from you, telling him that you enjoyed the act very much, so he did it again. And again. Over and over, he lifted you up and down, before hitching his hands under your thighs to keep you in place and pounding up into you until your eyes began to roll back in your head. 

 You were lucky nobody was in the building anymore, or it would’ve been very obvious what you were doing, closed blinds or not. 

 A strained groan came from him as he felt the familiar sensation of release building up in him, and he knew now would be the time to enact what he slyly hinted at earlier. As your cries turned ecstatic, and your pulling of his hair felt like you were going to rip it from his scalp in a heavenly wave of pain and pleasure, he allowed another well-known electricity to assemble within him. The remnants of One For All pumped through his veins, filling his muscles and bulking his frame like it had again and again over the years.

 He didn’t think he would ever get sick of the feeling, and it didn’t matter that it only lasted for a few seconds now. Toshinori always felt so powerful when the quirk gave him new form.

 As his body doubled, tripled in size, your already smaller frame seemed to shrink on top of him. His large arms and legs seemed impossibly big next to you, and it was with your very sudden, sharp intake of breath that he knew you felt him bulk elsewhere too. “Oh my G— Fuck!”  Your voice squeaked as his cock stretched you out, and you felt more of him than you ever had before.

 He’s about to ask you if you’re okay again, to know if this was way too much or painful at all, but he’s silenced by you clamping your hand harshly over his mouth as you begin to bounce on top of him. Your moans are so tinged with desperation now that he can’t concentrate on anything else, and his even larger hands cup you tightly on the ass as he watches you taking every wide inch of him.

 “Toshi— Fuck, All Might!” His hero name being called from your pretty mouth undoes him. He didn’t think he was vain enough that something like that would turn him on so much, but the surprise doesn’t affect much as he realises his climax is imminent.

 He throws his head back and moans loudly as he empties himself inside of you, the cum overfilling you and dripping down the inside of your legs onto the top of his thighs. The man pants as he takes a moment to recover, his hands falling limp against you, who in turn practically drops onto him. Toshinori can feel your chest pressed against his own, your head buried into the crook of his neck. 

 The blonde can feel his body returning to his regular form, but he doesn’t pay it much mind as he lifts a shaky hand that he runs through your hair soothingly. He’s quiet for a moment before tilting his head back to you, lips pressing against the top of your head like they had earlier before. He can hear a breathy chuckle come from your mouth, and you peer up at him with affection written all over your features. 

 “Are… You alright? Was that…” He’s not able to finish his sentence as you lift a hand and gently nudge his shoulder, your eyes narrowed playfully on his face. He can feel his features warm as you hum. 

 “That was perfect, Toshi,” You murmur, nuzzling your head into the man’s chest with a contented little smile on your face. Toshinori can’t help but smile too, moving his hands to rest them on your arms, rubbing soothing patterns into the exposed skin. “...Should clean up, though. My office is going to smell terrible.” 

 “Mmm,” The blonde grunts in agreement, nodding a little. “Just let me hold you a little longer.”

[sarawritestories]

Serenity Found

Cassian X Fem Reader

Summary: A quiet night in, causes the General of the Night Court to Reveal his true feelings to you.

Content Warning: None

Word count: 592

A/N: I'm sorry I keep promising things and not delivering. I'm juggling a lot and writing has been put to the back burner so much so I cried about it today. So here is a cute fluffy drabble for you. If you see any mistakes...no you didn't.

Dividers by the beautiful @tsunami-of-tears

ACOTAR MASTERLIST Taglist Request

The warmth from the flames in the library fought against the winter chill that had blanketed Velaris. Tucked into a blanket, your head finding purchase in the lap of your best friend, The General of the Night Court’s Armies. His fingers were idly gliding through your hair as he read his novel. Looking up at him for a moment; you were entranced by Cassian’s rugged beauty.

Illuminated by the fire crackling in the hearth, his face had a golden glow, his hair up in a bun, a few stray pieces framing his face that now held stubble after going days without shaving. His wings were relaxed against the couch. You fought the urge to press your thumb against the crease between his eyebrows as his Hazel irises focused on his book.  Unable to resist the urge much longer you reached up to do just that when his free hand gripped your wrist. “Knock it off.” His tone was light, and a smile appeared causing your heart to flutter. He resembled one of the old gods that Rhys’ mom would tell you about, handsome, kind and exudes raw power off his body. All those attributes describe your best friend of centuries. You were the moment he smiled at you and remained his when he had rescued you from the cruel fate of servitude. If only he realized he had your heart in the palm of his hands.

He remained unaware and you were left with a void in your heart the size of an Illyrian warrior.

The Mother was a cruel vixen.

“Sweetheart?” You blinked and noticed his smile had disappeared, replaced with a look of concern. “Where did you go?”

You smiled, “No where, I just missed you,” You turned back to your own book.

His hand grazed your arm, the soft scrap of his callouses against your skin, causing a shiver to race down your spine. “I promise to not be away for so long. I missed our reading nights. Being near you brings me such…”

“Serenity?” You glanced back to see him give a curt nod. Heat crept to your face at his admission, “Me too.”

Cassian’ lightly pulled your arm so you were facing him once more, “I have a confession to make.”

“Okay?” I rose from my spot to give him my full attention.

“Can I show you?” My head tilted, “Its better if I show you.”

You weren’t sure if your heart was beating, “Of course, Cassian. I trust you.”

Cassian’s Hazel’s eyes held your gaze with an intensity that wasn’t there a moment previously. “Good.” He cupped your face, and, in a moment, his lips were on yours. Quickly grip his waist in your hands he pulled you close. Pulling away before you could deepen the kiss, Cassian wraps a muscled arm around your waist and places his forehead to yours. “I couldn’t keep it in any longer.”

“Cassian.” You whispered your chest warming as the gold thread tethered your soul to his. You pushed him slightly as if you could see the thing tethering you two together. “You’re my-

You looked up to find the General’s face morph from shock to pure happiness, “Mate. You’re mine.”

No longer fighting your urge you slid into his lap and peppered his stubbled face with kisses. “Yours. I’ve always been yours.”

And as the night went on you two sat in the library, in each other’s arms fast asleep. As two lonely souls morphed into one. Calmness falling between them as sleep consumed them.

Finding Serenity at last.

General Tag: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @tsunami-of-tears @readychilledwine @ceoofyearning

@velariscalling @daycourtofficial @prythianpages @writingcroissant @itsswritten

@illyrianbitch @acotarxreader @pit-and-the-pen @nocasdatsgay @labyrinth-of-stories-and-stars

@ninthcircleofprythian @thelov3lybookworm @riddlesb1tch @lilah-asteria

@kylaisra @nickishadow139 @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover @demirunner

@marvelbros-oneshots @lanea-1 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

[mariasont]

hi !!!!! i love your hotch x oc x reid fic so much, literally got to work late because you updated and i just HAD to read it when the notif came in !

can i request a kinda fluff-y turning to smut fic about maybe reader's small hands compared to spencer's large hands (his hands are so INTOXICATING).

maybe the fluff part can be kinda cute with their first time holding hands starting from that "oh lets compare hand sizes" and then intertwining fingers?? one of the best spencer fic tropes/hcs is when he's usually not enthusiastic abt touching but when its You he loves it and hes been so touched starved DHSKDHHD // and then the smut can kinda be like how reader's hands make his dick look huge (or smth! im sorry this is my first time requesting a fic!!)

i hope im not coming out as being too demanding !! you can have all the freedom w this !!!! sorry sorry for the long request 🙈🙈🙈

love your work !!! 😙

HANDS, HANDS, and HANDS-------------

A/N: AHHHH your mind!!!!! I LOVE IT <3

we need a whole episode just dedicated to his hands fr!

thank you so much for requesting and the kind words, I hope I did it justice <3 xoxo

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ minors dni, hand kink, praise, size kink, m receiving oral, take a shot every time someone says sorry

wc: 1.9k

Your infatuation with Dr. Spencer Reid was an open book to everyone--damn profilers--well, everyone except the man of the hour, Dr. Reid himself. It was hard to say when it all started. Subtle changes crept in--the extra care you took in choosing your outfits to work; the way words suddenly became hurdles in conversations with him; the sensation of your heart nearly leaping out of your chest anytime he was in the vicinity. 

Despite your skills as a profiler, deciphering Dr. Reid was like trying to read braille through gloves. So, you pushed those feelings down, crushing them beneath a metaphorical heel to maintain professionalism. It wasn't exactly a successful strategy, but that wasn't the point. You reassured yourself that even if romance wasn't in the cards, friendship was the next best thing. And what a friend he was--remarkable in every way, which is why you found yourself here, in his apartment, dissecting case files together. It was a friendly gesture, surely, to escape the office when it becomes a little too suffocating. 

You felt your pulse race as he brought his fingers to his lips, preparing to sift through the stack of papers. A dryness clutched at your throat, fingers nervously fidgeting with the hem of your skirt, while you're sure your eyes betrayed a cartoonish adoration, practically orbiting with hearts. Forgotten was your own paperwork that now served as a makeshift blanket for your thighs, as he spoke. Your arm claimed the territory along the back of the couch, with your own hand gently propping up your check, a picture of relaxed attentiveness.

In the midst of his lecture about the golden ratio and its prevalence in nature, Spencer suddenly grabs a nearby book, flips to a diagram of a human hand, and says, "Did you realize that our hands are a prime example of this phenomenon? Give me your hand."

Your eyebrows knit together, your head angling subtly towards the boy genius. "Sorry, what?"

Without a word, Spencer lays your hand upon the diagram's expanse. Amidst the book, your hand seems smaller, delicate, a stark contrast the bold lines drawn on paper. 

He looks at you with a soft smile. "See, the size of one's hand doesn't really correlate with the golden ratio--it's more about the proportions within the hand itself. For instance, the length of your fingers compared to your palm, or the distance between the tip of your thumb and the tip of your pinky stretched out."

His hand leads yours across the pages, but you're barely registering the words. Instead, you're acutely aware of the warmth of his touch, causing your thighs to clench on their own accord, your mind tumbling over itself.

"Your hands are actually significantly smaller than the average," he comments, almost to himself. The statement is harmless, yet he finds his imagination wandering. He quickly refocuses, saying, "The range of hand sizes is quite broad, which is interesting biologically. Here--"

He extends his hand, palm open, beside yours--a natural extension of your conversation, yet he shifts slightly against the couch. Spencer was taken aback by his own actions. Physical touch was something he generally recoiled from, but here he was, seeking yours out. He realized this had become a habit, finding reasons to be near you, to feel your touch. Anytime there was something to be handed to you at work, he was quick to volunteer, all for the fleeting possibility of a brush of fingers.

He watched, captivated, as you aligned your palm with his, matching up the bottom of your palms. His attention was drawn to the stark difference between your hands; his, significantly larger, seemed to engulf yours entirely. He found the sight unexpectedly compelling. The disparity in size stirred his curiosity, leading him to wonder how your hand would look clasped around his cock.

His thumb grazed the back of your hand in a subconscious motion as he pondered out loud. "Did you know," he began, his voice sinking an octave, "that the ratio of the lengths of our second to fourth fingers is believed to correlate with various hormones, affecting the way we interact with others."

You found yourself holding your breath as you mapped the shape of your hands together, a subtle dampness beginning to form between your legs. This is what got you worked up? Clearly, you mused, getting laid was overdue. 

As if guided by a force beyond your control, your fingers gradually intertwined, each finger fingers its perfect counterpart. Recoiling as if from a burn, you realized the intimacy of the gesture, a rush of apologies escaping your lips. "Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to-"

A blush crept up Spencer's neck as he hastened to interject. "No, no, it's completely fine, really."

The moment passed, and you both redirected your focus to the paperwork. Yet, the routine task did little to dispel the residual thoughts of his touch. The size difference, the feeling of his larger hand wrapping around yours, and how ideally his fingers would look pumping inside of you or wrapping around your throat. It all kept playing on your mind, a silent movie that you can't stop watching.

Spencer too, seems lost in thought, his gaze drifting from the files to your hands--manicured and delicate. He watches, seemingly without awareness, as those same hands idly toy with the hem of your skirt, or the way they spin your earring when deep in thought. To him, these minor actions have suddenly become fascinating.

Spencer's voice cuts through the stillness as he resumes his concentration on the work before him. "How do you interpret this?" he probes, touching a finger to a page of the file perched on his lap.

You lean in, curiosity leading you to reach for the file. Your actions freeze momentarily as your knuckles brush against his crouch. You pause, blinking deliberately, as you second-guess what you felt. He was hard as a rock.

You could feel the heat rushing to your cheeks, eyes growing wide with surprise. "Oh, um, sorry," you muttered. 

In a rapid movement, Spencer combed his fingers through his hair, causing the curls to obstruct his view. He snatched a pillow and tossed it in his lap, tilting his head back against the couch with a look of embarrassment. "No, I'm sorry, I, uh--"

Anticipating a scholarly lecture on the male hormones, you quickly interject. "Do you want help?"

Spencer's eyes grew wide as he regarded your face. Your lashes fluttered with a slow blink, your demeanor completely serious. His traced the flush of your cheeks, the gentle parting of your lips, the accelerated rise and fall of your chest. His head tilted slightly, expecting the punchline to follow.

He let out a puff of air. "Do I want what?"

He noted your head tilting to the side, mirroring his own actions. Your hand reached forward, poised to replace the pillow on his lap. Your pinky dragged across the material of his jeans, moving with excruciating slowness. 

"That seems painful," you comment quickly, before your sudden courage fades. "Let can help."

You moved swiftly to his belt, and you could hear his breath hitch in short bursts. He murmured your name, his hand threading through your hair to grasp gently at the nape of your neck.

You shot him an innocent smile as you edged his pants down, just enough to access his boxers. Your smile made him believe he could come on the spot--the way you looked so eager, like you had been waiting for this. He let out a shaky breath as you released his length from his boxers.

You were engulfed in a dizzying feeling, your eyes widened to saucers as you seized his massive cock. "Holy shit, Spencer, you're huge."

You were barely aware of the words tumbling from your lips as you gawked. The impact on him was immediate, the intensity of your graze was maddening. Your small hands encircled his base, accentuating his size. His grasp on your neck grew firmer as he coaxed your head down. 

"Don't play," came his growl, so out of character. Warmth bloomed in your face, excitement bubbling in your chest as your thighs clasped together.

You flashed him a gentle, unassuming smile as you hastily took him in your mouth. You felt like a new person, an unprecedented need flowing through you.

Spencer let out a sharp hiss as your lips met his cock, taking him as far as you could. He mentally thanked whatever gods existed, unsure of what he had done to deserve this. His hands deftly collected your hair in his grasp, aiding you in guiding him even deeper. His breaths hastened as he praised, "Good god, baby."

His words only egged you on, your movements turning sloppy as you bobbed up and down, working every inch of his cock. You never knew sucking a man off could be so enjoyable. You wanted to savor the moment, to savor him. You encircled the based with your other hand, granting yourself reach to what had been inaccessible to your mouth as you started to synchronize your movements.

"Look at you," Spencer muttered hoarsely, his gaze flickering to your hands. Those damn hands, they looked so perfect around him, even better than he imagined. "You look like you were made for this."

You moaned around him in response, the slickness between your legs starting to drop down your thighs upon his praise. This elicited a hiss from him, tightening his grip in your hair as he drew you away from his throbbing cock, spit trailing from your mouth as you separated. 

"Wha-?" Your question hung in the air, marked by the crease of your confusion on your forehead. 

He didn't let you finish, simply stating. "On your knees."

Without hesitation, you followed his direction, your hands clasped in anticipation as you moved from the couch to the floor, your balance settling back into your heels as he towered over you. "Open."

You complied with his command, easing your jaw as he guided himself onto your tongue. A soft moan escaped you, enveloping his cock. He coaxed his length into your mouth, your hands steadying on his thighs as he all but used your face.

Spencer's hands cradled your face, fully encompassing your cheeks as he thrusted into your mouth. His pulse thundered at a pace he hadn't thought possible, and fuck, he wouldn't mind if this was how death welcomed him. There you were, on your knees, so compliant around his cock. His breaths grew rapid as your nails trailed up his thighs. 

"You're so good," he muttered, eyes casting down upon you, your glazed expression, the drool peeking out from the corners of your lips. "So good. 'M so close."

He moves to withdraw from your mouth, but your hands find their way to the back of his thighs, holding him in place, denying his escape. He exhales a deep, unrestrained moan, thrusting into your mouth once more, shallowing moving as the warm liquid fills your mouth. 

He gazes, spellbound, as you swallow his come completely, your head lolling back in total bliss. In that instant, he realizes his willingness to do anything to keep you close, to see you like this--spent, disheveled, and content.

Breaking the silence, you ask, "Did that help?" His laughter, soft and subdued, fills the air as he reaches out, cupping your cheeks once more. He descends to meet you, his kiss messy and desperate, finding the taste of himself lingering on your lips as his hands untangle your knotted hair. 

"You're amazing," he exhaled, their lips parting. "Now, let me return the favor."

[introvert-no-chameleon]

In the Palm of your Hand

@void-dude I dedicate this to you and the feelings of fluff unlocked when I saw Stadley cuddles and Nightmare! Tad.

You held Stan gently in his hand, cradling him in the crook of your palm. Stan was looking worse for wear—his Mr. Mystery outfit was in tatters. His bat was held in his hand, and he had it in a limp grip. His chest was rising and falling in quick bursts. His eyes were drooping from exhaustion, but you could still see them darting around, scanning for threats that you made sure wouldn’t be here.

Sweat poured down his temple. There were splatters of blood on his usually crisp white shirt, and you had to fight the urge to touch them—you still weren’t used to your current size, and the last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. After a few moments, he leaned back from his sitting position to look up at you. “Where the hell have you been?”.

You felt there was more to that statement. You recognized the stubborn maneuvering around the subject of his feelings. The tone, dancing around saying the real thing, one you were familiar with for a long time. “I ran into some issues after the whole bloody sky turned red. Glad I saw you in time to give those eyebats a proper smacking.”

Calling them “issues” was an understatement; if there was one thing that hadn’t changed about Billy, it was the fact that he always knew how to make a mess out of things. Keeping the glamour on was taking more of a toll than it should be, especially now that you had enlarged yourself. It was strange (heh) to see Stan so small. Did he also adore peering down at you the way you were, holding the center of your multiverse in the palm of your hand?

Stan leaned against one of the fingers at his back. You carefully bent your index finger towards his face. He held it, hesitantly at first before he let go of his facade and allowed himself to be known by you. “I thought I lost ya, Tad,” he murmured. “Or that you left to...y’know.”

You did. Even now, even when you were pass the point of no return, a part of you still denied this was all the Billy you knew. When he extended his hand to you, a part of you wanted to take it. A part of you wanted to keep this shard of your past, of the sweet moments of childhood innocence and hope for the future. Of the kid with the bright eye who loved the stars so much he would wave his tiny hands towards them and babble for hours. Of the kid who loved the silly straws and just wanted to play and was endlessly curious, who cried when he broke things by accident and always begged for forgiveness. Of the sweet voice that called for “Taddy”, that said you were his best friend and begged you to always be around him.

But this was not that. Bill had burned their home and laughed when you begged him to stop. He had dragged the stars down and crashed them into planets, shattering them all in a fiery blaze of chaos and heat. He had become a black hole, destroying anything near and dear to him to feed his madness.

Billy was gone the moment he started the fire.

But Stan had stayed the same, despite everything. Always present, always fighting to keep his family together. Always grinning when he pulled off a con, always working hard, always bragging about his wonderful niece and nephew and the Pines family name. Always there those nights your mind drifted into the void, when you craved warmth and comfort and familiarity. Always keeping you in his hands as if you were the most precious thing he’d ever held. Always making sure you came back, failing to hide the worry every time you were gone just a little bit longer than usual.

“And let go of our tax benefits? Never.”

Stan chuckled weakly. “Yeah.” He sighed, and let the bat fall onto your palm.

“Come on, then. You’re still looking for the kids, right?”

He nodded tiredly. “Just ran into some trouble when ya found me. Nothing I couldn’t take care of, y’know.”

You nodded as if in agreement. No point in pointing out how terrible of a liar he was. “I’ll give you a lift. Lucky for you, it’s free of charge for handsome con men.”

He laughed then, and you remembered, as you always did, how much you would do to keep that laugh in your life.

Even if it meant facing Bill once and for all.

[marthawrites]

first of all choose to ignore this if you're not up to it but i would LOVE some aemond x reader tiddies sucking/worship with a whole pussy eating and pussy fucking.. dirty talk always appreciated btw!! AGAIN feel free to ignore im just an aemond and tiddies sucking sucker <3

Hello sweet anon! Are you still with me? I hope you are ♥ I apologize for making you wait since July for this request. If you are still around, I sincerely hope this fic does the trick - mwah!

Morning Lovebites Lead To Sweet Dreams

Aemond Targaryen x wife reader

Word count: 2.9k+

About: You and Aemond share a morning bath and the lingering sensations last with you all day. When he returns to your marriage chambers later than usual, you're sad you might sleep through his return. Once in for the night, however, he makes up for it.

Includes: It's in the request! This is all smut. Featuring breast play, nipple play, biting, hickies, unprotected vaginal sex, minor pain play, reader receiving oral sex, sweet talking, some dirty talking, possessiveness, and minor breeding kink

Note: Hello lovely reader! While this fic has elements of breast worship, there is no descriptions to breast size. That is entirely up to you! All tiddies are good tiddies in this house! Reader is implied to come from a noble House but is unspecified. As always, reader is non-descript. Please, enjoy!

“Every woman is the image of their mother and to be spoken of with reverence,” Aemond’s voice rasped into the smooth skin of your neck as he gathered your hair into his gentle grasp, moving it over one shoulder to expose the full length of your bare neck and shoulder to him. He trailed the tip of his nose over your delicate skin as if he could smell the very blood that pumped through your veins. Goosebumps rose on your skin and he smiled silently at the sight. “Mm… my lovely wife. So sweet and still so sensitive for her husband’s touch,” he murmured again, both his hands feeling up the front of your slippery body. “Every day the urge to thank your mother for making you grows greater,” he said as he gently squeezed your breasts, their softness and warmth already making his cock swell against the small of your back. 

Despite the many turns of moon you’d been married, the temperature of his baths still made you hiss upon entering. Yet, you gasped softly at the sensation of his hands. He was warm; always so warm. Your skin bloomed with the tub's heat, and the humidity of it caused little curls to form in the fine hairs of your hairline. “You’ve thanked my mother and father for my hand many times, husband,” you answered sweetly. “So much so that they cannot believe I’m not carrying your child yet,” you added just as sweet, leaning back against him to further press your breasts into his palms.

He peppered kisses – open mouthed and nipping – over your neck, looking down the front of your body. He loved your breasts from every angle, but there was something extra delicious about seeing them from this angle. He pinched your pebbled nipples gently and rolled them between his fingers. “It’s not from lack of excitement or trying,” he said, smirking.

“A-ah! Aemond..! You make them sore when you do that,” you half whimpered, feeling an entirely different type of heat begin to pool between your thighs.

He tugged your nipples forward until they snapped out of his grasp, reveling the way your soft flesh rippled with the motion. “Then I shall kiss them all better.” He pinched them again, firmer this time, and rolled them anew.

You choked out a little sound and giggled. Reaching around your back, you grasped his now fully hardened length and slowly pumped along it. He exhaled the loveliest noise and you gripped him firmer. Stroking him, you turned your head to look back at him with half-lidded eyes. “I need you, husband, before our day’s duties begin.”

He caught your lips in a searing kiss and licked into your mouth with lustful hunger. His cock twitched when you moaned in response, returning his kiss with just as much fervor. Wasting no more time he gripped your waist and helped turn you around so you were facing each other. He looked up at you – the intense hue of his natural eye and his darkly beautiful sapphire stone – while gripping firmly onto the swells of your chest. “Ride me, wife. Show me how much you need your husband’s cock.”

With a shift of your hips you sunk down his length, your walls stretching wonderfully around him, until there was no more of him to take. You ground on him, bounced on him, and did it all again, until water sloshed out messily from the tub and the room filled with sounds of your shared pleasure.

All the while Aemond never gave your breasts rest. He laid his face between them, kissed them, suckled them, squeezed and pinched them. New lovebites decorated your tender flesh – pinks and purples and fading bitemarks – which he made sure to tenderly coat in oils before your ladies appeared to help you dress.

When all was said and done you both had little curls along your hairline. You kept yours with pride, whereas Aemond took extra time to smooth them out.

-

The day’s duties seemed as if they'd never end. All you wanted was your husband. If you had it your way you would say fuck his duties, fuck your duties, and laze about all day in bed with your dragon prince: eating cake, perfectly ripened fruit, and drinking sweet Arbor wine. All those little lovebites he left behind burned pleasantly reminding you of your shared bath. Warmth filled your lower belly as you became lost in those daydreamy memories. The rest of the day went by in a carnal haze.

Night had fallen and Aemond still hadn’t returned. 

What on earth was he up to?

Unsure of the night’s plans, you finally dismissed your last servant after they stoked the fire and added more wood to it. You sat in front of your vanity, now, slowly brushing braids out of your hair. You removed jewelry piece by piece and placed them in your jewelry box. As far back as you could remember you had a taste for shiny and pretty things. Even as a young girl you loved receiving a new necklace, or bracelet, or earrings instead of toys or other things for nameday gifts. As you grew older those tastes never wavered. After marrying Aemond he made sure to adorn you in the finest things. Pearls, emeralds, rubies. But, his favorite were sapphires. They become one of your favorites, too. 

It was quiet except for the fire’s crackle and with each passing minute you found yourself growing more drowsy. Just when you thought you might doze off while reading in bed, the heavy wooden door of your marriage chamber opened. “Husband! I thought I might not get to see you before sleep overcame me,” you said a little tiredly, whole face bright upon watching him close and latch the door. “I’ve missed you terribly.” Once you caught sight of his expression, however, your brows furrowed in worry. “What’s the matter?”

He sighed a long sigh, beginning to remove his clothing. “I had heard of Aegon and his growing… depravities, but I hadn’t expected them to be so… shameful. He disgraces our family name by what he does in the underbellies of Flea Bottom.”

You gulped. “What did you discover?”

Aemond shook his head while stepping out of his boots. “Nothing you need to fret about tonight.”

“I am Targaryen now too, and I wish to know what is happening,” you retorted.

“Not now. You say you missed me terribly? Well, I assure you I missed you more,” he said, walking in long easy strides to you on bare feet. He’d removed everything except his pants which were unlaced in the front. The casualness of it had your belly stirring, and the sight of his long, lean body flexing toward you had your thighs pressing together. “I didn’t have enough of you this morning…,” he rumbled against your mouth as he shadowed above you, gently pushing you onto your back once more. He laid on his side beside you, kissing you mouth again and again until your little tongue slid against his mouth. He groaned, deepening the affection, while his hand pushed up your thigh, tugging your shift up with him as he went.

“More? I’m not so sure about that,” you giggled, nipping at his lips. “Every little mark you left on me has been aching all day. A good ache. I’ve been needy for you all day, husband,” you purred, hooking one of your legs over his waist in an attempt to pull him closer into you.

He groaned somewhere deep in his chest and rolled atop you effortlessly, pinning one of your hands above you head as he loomed above you. The silver of his silky hair glowed with highlights of orange from the fire and candles in your room. His eye bore into your own, blazing, as a smirk etched itself across his angular features. “My good little wife has been aching and wet for me all day? My, my, darling…,” he crooned, kissing your jaw, neck, and throat. 

“You’re torturing me,” you said, desire flaring wildly in your core.

His free hand pushed your shift higher; thighs, smallclothes, belly, breasts, all revealing themselves to him. “Lean up and take this off,” he half growled. You did as you were told and in a flurry of motion he tossed it off the edge of the bed. “Your skin is loveliest covered in my marks,” he mused aloud as he tilted his head, inspecting the fullness of the front of your body. “My perfect girl.” His hand pushed up the front of you, splaying wide as to touch all of you that he could, fingertips grazing over your bitten and sucked flesh. He pressed down on those lovebites. Testing the bruises; testing you.

“Ah-h!” You gasped, squirming beneath him. “Not so hard!” You whined with pleading eyes.

A satisfied sound rumbled up from his chest. “So they are tender…,” he whispered, grinning, as he continued to gently push down into each bruise. “My poor girl,” he said, dipping his head low to kiss over each mark, now, making sure to pay extra attention to your pebbled nipples when he passed over them. “I had to make sure you were telling the truth. So far, half of what you said is true. As for the other…,” he mumbled around mouthfuls of your titflesh, greedy lips unable to leave your pretty nipples for long.

The pleasure of his mouth soon made you forget about the pain of his touch, but it was that pain that made your pleasure all the sweeter. You arched beneath him, free hand sliding down to card through his silken hair. “I think your wetnurse half starved you as a babe for how much you latch onto me,” you teased, sighing in bliss as he drew your nipples into his mouth, suckling and working his tongue over them.

“Must have,” he smirked, the stiffened peak of your nipple glossy with his saliva. Finally letting go of your wrist, both his hands lowered to untie the ribbons around your waist so he could tug your smallclothes down with no restraint. He did, and then he gently parted your legs. Between your thighs your sweet little cunt glistened with arousal. He couldn’t tell if his cock swelled to impossible hardness first, or, if his mouth watered first. “Look… at… you…,” he said slowly, possessive eye feasting on the sight of your bared cunny. 

“Aemond…,” you whined as blood rushed to warm your cheeks – the intensity of his gaze made you uncharacteristically self-conscious.

“You are lucky, my dear. Lying to your prince comes with severe punishment. You, by the grace of the Seven, have told the truth,” he said as he lowered to lay on his belly between your legs. He lifted one to gently hook over his shoulder and held the other down, keeping you nice and spread out beneath him. “If you were indeed sleeping when I returned tonight, I intended to wake you in this same manner,” he said as he looked up at you, the outside of his seeing eye crinkling with mischief. 

The warmth in your cheeks spread up to your ears, but before you could say anything in reply your husband dragged his tongue up through your eager folds. You moaned softly at the heat of his mouth, and he moaned at the taste that coated his tongue. He could never have enough of you: he told you often. “Gods- Aem-,” you whispered through shuddered breath.

It was impossible to say if you enjoyed this more, or if he did.

By now Aemond knew what you liked, how you liked it, and knew when to increase or ease his pressure on you. He learned wickedly fast – faster than you discovered your own pleasure some of the time – and strove for perfection, always wanting to be better than those around him. He licked, and lapped, and sucked, losing himself in the unique taste and texture of you. “You'd like to be woken up like this, wouldn't you?” He asked, slowly kissing and licking over your bud as to not push you too far too fast.

The thought alone made you squirm against him; cunny seeking to grind against the plushness of his mouth. “Y..yes,” you answered quietly.

“Mmm… I knew you would. I will have to try it one day. Licking and stroking this sweet cunt just enough to not wake you.”

You clenched at the idea knowing he meant it. “My cruel prince…”

He laughed lowly before delving into you again, tongue disappearing into your clenching center. Even around that little muscle you were tight. You always fit around him so perfectly. The sounds he made between your thighs were lewd. Dirty. Any other time or place you'd feel filthy. But with it being Aemond, the lasciviousness of it nudged you to the edge of your pleasure. One of his hands pushed up the front of your body and he palmed over a breast, squeezing the mound inside his palm. A finger of the other pressed into your soaking core while he lavished your clit with tongue and lip alike.

“I'm gonna– ‘m gonna..,” you moaned, whimpering as you rolled and ground your pelvis in time with all of his motions, seeking out more and more even though he was already giving you everything he knew you needed. Both hands flung down to his head and you shamelessly held him right there, fingers flexing and tugging at his hair. 

Aemond moaned against you. Early in your marriage you discovered his scalp was exceedingly sensitive and you loved using it to your advantage; whether he purred, or moaned, or whimpered.

“Let go, sweet wife. Give me your pleasure,” he mumbled against you, suckling gently on your pearl while working two fingers in and out of you, rubbing that small hidden patch of nerves with perfect precision. He squeezed your breast harder, pinching at your nipple, and the combination of everything became too much. You came undone against him. Orgasm washed over you in waves that left you weightless; the sounds of your release sent your husband rutting against the mattress.

“So good.. fuck that all felt so good,” you babbled down at him; heavy eyes darkened by lust and sparkling in adoration. 

Your praise sent Aemond's desire blazing to an inferno and he didn't even let you catch your breath before he kicked out of his pants and lined his cock up with you. “Such a needy greedy girl. Wet all day… humping my face like a bitch in heat… begging to be stuffed full by her husband again,” he growled lowly, pushing the underside of your leg up so it squished against your chest. “And all of that for me,” he said firmly, darkly, grinning down at you like a hawk swooping a bunny. With a flex of his slim, lean hips, he pushed into you.

You gasped, squeezing at his strong arms as he plunged into you. His name rolled off your tongue in yet another stuttering moan, eyelids fluttering with the force of his intrusion. You nodded wordlessly, looking up at him with desperate eyes.

“Mine… all fucking mine,” he said in that same tone, punctuating his words with long, firm thrusts. “My perfect wife. My wet cunt. Mine to fill, and use, and fill again.”

The force of his thrusts sent your tits bouncing. You cried out in bliss, your first orgasm making your body extra sensitive to his slamming hips. He drove home again, and again, and again, his balls slapping against you with every plunge. “Yes.. yes.. yes,” you babbled.

“So lovely like this. So beautiful when I fuck you. If only you could see yourself all dazed out on my cock,” his angle and pace changed and now he bullied that inner patch of nerves with each forward push and outward pull.

You wrapped your legs around his slender waist and pulled him deeper into you. “Right there,” you panted, nodding, sheened with sweat and glowing with delight. 

Both his hands squeezed and held onto your breasts, fucking you just as you asked him to. “Come with me. I want your cunny sucking my seed all the way to your pretty little womb,” he muttered, clearly holding himself back as long as he could.

That's all it took for you to find peak. Euphoria washed over you in glorious waves of ecstasy, making your body shudder and tremble around him. Your walls flexed and convulsed around his twitching cock in a visceral plea to finish deep inside.

Aemond didn't stand a chance. He groaned out your name and filled you passed the brim. Slowly his seed oozed out from around the base of his length while he kept it buried inside you, heavy drips of your combined essence sliding down the swell of your ass. You panted together, foreheads pressed together, and only began to pull apart once pleasure spent its course in both your bodies.

“You are the most enchanting thing,” Aemond whispered to you with a gentle kiss to your lips.

“Hold me as I sleep?” You asked with heavy eyes, already feeling tiredness creep over your senses.

He smiled, the expression intimately sweet, as he moved to lay on his side beside you. “Of course,” he answered, pulling you flush against him. With another quiet smirk he lifted your leg to rest over his waist and lowered a hand between your bodies. Carefully, he slipped two fingers into you. “Shh…,” he hushed when you made a noise of discomfort. “Only to keep my seed where it belongs.”

You blushed but didn't say, or do, anything in protest. “Sweet dreams, my prince.”

“Sleep well, my lady.”

-

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[dilemmaontwolegs]

Not A Verstappen: Lights Out {5}

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!driver!reader x Lando Norris Summary: The most anticipated race of the year is here, and the most controversial, Las Vegas GP. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, fluff, angst, injury WC: 3.5k F1 Masterlist NAV: Sibling Rivalry One || Two || Three NAV: Gridlocked One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine NAV: A New World One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six || Seven || Eight || Nine || Ten NAV: Lights Out One || Two || Three || Four || Five || Six

Round Twenty Two - Las Vegas

Kristian sat on a weight bench, flipping through the pages of the motherhood magazine he was reading. Every so often he would look up and give some guidance until the tips became a nuisance.

“I should have fired you,” you muttered as you rose up from the last lunge.

“You say that a lot but you should keep your back straight,” he shot back, grating you further with the slow scrape of the page turning. “And keep your feet in line with your hips.”

“Can we play some decent music at least?” you whined between the gulps of water you swallowed down. The training was far less intensive than they used to be with everything focused on just maintaining fitness and health rather than a goal weight or strength like before.

“Nope,” he chuckled, clearly enjoying being able to boss you around the gym again. “Baroque is good for the baby.”

“Bullshit.” There was no way the classical music meant anything to her, she was only the size of an avocado - or so Lando said. He had an app that he checked daily and uploaded photos onto as a keepsake. 

Kristian turned back to the start of the magazine and turned it around, tapping the title of the article. “So you think you know more than Harvard scholars now, Spitfire?”

He took your silence for defeat and pointed to the pool door. “Twenty lap cool down and then it’s breakfast.”

Your stomach grumbled at the mention of food and you grabbed a towel as you passed the door to the changing room. Breakfast didn’t feel like the right term since it was well past lunchtime. The whole Las Vegas schedule had screwed your body clock with the late night practices and qualifying rounds but you were grateful it was the last night of it. 

Lando and Charles had been fast asleep when you slipped out of the room. Something had disturbed you from the dream you were having and despite the room being pitch black with the thick blockout curtains your body could tell it was daytime. Thankfully Kristian was already awake and happy to move your fitness session up a few hours. 

Cool water washed over you as you dove into the tepid pool and started to glide along the surface. One, two, three, breathe. One, two, three, breathe. The monotony was therapeutic and you didn’t even bother to keep count of the laps - your mind was elsewhere.

You had been dead on your feet in the wee hours of the morning after you finally left the track with Lando and Charles after qualifying finished. They still had adrenaline flooding their systems and had no hope of sleeping when they sunk into the couch cushions and pulled your exhausted body over their legs. 

You were in a drowsy state, half asleep but half aware of the other two chatting quietly together. Their hands had softly caressed your skin, brushing your shirt up so they could feel the warmth of your abdomen beneath their palms. 

“She’s so beautiful, Cha, and she’s carrying our kid. I don’t think I have ever been this happy in my life,” Lando hummed as he rested his head on Charles’ shoulder and smiled at their hands. 

“We are very lucky to have her,” he agreed as he kissed Lando softly.

“So…” You tasted the mischief in Lando’s drawn out tone and it stirred some energy back into your body. “When can I start calling you daddy?”

Charles’ legs shifted beneath you with a groan and you willed your eyes to open as his cheeks flushed pink. “Mon cher...”

“You can call me papi chulo,” Lando smirked. “It means-”

“I know what it means,” Charles choked, knowing exactly who had taught him that too. “Carlos is a menace, but if anyone is going to be papi chulo it’s me.”  

You nearly swallowed a mouthful of water as the memory of what had happened next led to a lapse in your count and you pulled yourself out of the pool with a splutter. Those two had a lot to answer for.

“Here,” Kristian said as he tossed a bottle of water to you. “Try not to drink from the pool.”

“What would I do without you?” you asked dryly. 

“I don’t dare to think about that,” he joked before he said your favourite words. “Let’s go eat.”

You stared at the egg on your plate before pushing it away with disinterest. Charles looked up from his own plate and frowned at the rare sight of the food that remained on yours. 

“Would you like something else, mamie?”

You smiled at the new endearment and watched Lando cut an avocado in half before passing one part over to you. The vibrant green flesh did look delicious but when you held it in your hand you could only think about the bump that had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. You hadn’t noticed it before changing into your swimsuit but when you peeled the tight layer off in the gym's changing room you had frozen. The mirrored wall caught your side profile under glaring fluorescent lights and there, just below your belly button it swelled ever so slightly. 

A hand waved in front of your face and you broke away from the memory to see both your boyfriends watching you with worried frowns. One of them had obviously spoken to you but you couldn’t recall hearing them as you stared at the avocado. 

“You’re crying,” Lando murmured as he swiped away the tear on your cheek. “What’s wrong?”

“She’s this big already. Our baby is the size of an avocado. She’s so tiny,” you said with a small laugh, raising the fruit higher for inspection. They looked at you like you were a little crazy and it wouldn’t have been the first time that was suspected but you pushed the chair out and placed the avocado back on the table. “Come, I want to show you something.”

You led them to the bedroom and Charles opened his mouth to break the bad news that they didn’t have time for even a quickie. The thought had crossed your mind when you found them still naked and splayed across the bed before breakfast was ready, but they needed to get to the track soon for media duties and to prepare for the race. 

“That’s a shame but also not what I came here for,” you admitted as you started to remove your shirt. 

“I’m getting mixed messages here,” Lando chuckled as he reached for his own shirt. “But I don’t mind being late.”

“Stop, before I really do make you stay,” you chuckled knowing they would do anything for you. You dropped your shirt and turned sideways while you stared at the reflection in the mirror. “Look…”

Their eyes followed the wave of your hand, the way your palm drifted over your hip to cradle the small bump, and Lando gasped along with Charles soft praise. Knees hit the soft carpet below your feet and warm lips replaced your hand, teasing your skin with kisses. Two heads of dark hair bowed against your stomach and whispered words of promise you couldn’t quite hear, but they weren’t for your ears. Finally they looked up, emerald and azure eyes filled with enough love that you were certain your chest was going to crack open.

You reached for their cheeks and felt the same dampness that coated yours. “She’s real,” you whispered. It had taken a few weeks but finally it all felt real. She wasn’t just a picture on a piece of paper or measurements of a hormone in a blood test. She was real, and she was yours.

“You look like a twat,” you greeted Max with a grin, flapping the collar of his race suit made to replicate Elvis Presley. “You’re just missing the blue suede shoes.”

Max rolled his eyes and ducked his head when you tried to mess his gelled hair up. “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

“Oh I am,” you laughed, slipping back into Charles’ side. “I’m actually happy to sit out this circus act.”

Max narrowed his eyes as he scanned your face for a lie or bitterness but all he saw was a bright smile and genuine amusement sparkling in your eyes. A sense of relief washed over him as for the first time since losing your seat you looked completely content and happy.

“I don’t blame you,” he finally replied and looked down at the costume he had been given. He would be glad when all this was over too. “I’ll see you at Omnia?”

The sun had already set on the strip and the temperature was quickly dropping as the hour grew late, and closer to the start of the race. “Maybe, if it’s a boring race I might not even be awake to see the end of it.”

“Fair enough.” He hoped you would be there to celebrate whatever the results were but he knew you were more exhausted in your current state and wouldn’t hold it against you. Christian waved at Max from across the street that divided the hospitality area from the garages and he gave you a quick hug, clapping Charles in the shoulder as he passed. “The Ring Master calls.”

“Drive safe!” He threw a thumbs up over his shoulder in answer and you laced your fingers with Charles’ before continuing to the McLaren garage.

It was strangely quiet for a race that had been hyped up so much over the last year, but you were kind of relieved that there were less people to weave between. It was great that the sport was growing in popularity but it was a pain in the ass trying to get anywhere when you are squashed like sardines in the paddock.

Somehow you still managed to bump into someone.

“Shit, sorry, Logan.”

“That was my bad,” he apologised as he turned to face the direction he was walking, waving back to the fan who had stopped him. His eyes widened when he saw who he had collided with and regret painted on his face. “Shit, are you alright? I didn’t hurt you, did I, or the, um…” he waved a hand to your stomach and you tilted your head wondering who had told him.

“I’m fine, but you knew?”

Logan scratched the back of his neck nervously and shrugged. “The walls were thin in the medical centre.”

You were dumbfounded and the sound that bubbled from your chest confirmed it. “Huh.”

“I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t,” he promised before his name was called and he waved to his PT. “Oh, congratulations though, I probably should have started with that.”

Charles laughed and shook the American’s hand. “Thanks, mate.”

You smiled and accepted the half hug he offered, probably thinking a handshake would be even more awkward. “Thanks, and congrats on your first point too.”

“Not as exciting as a baby.”

“Yeah it is,” you laughed, remembering your first point for Alpha Tauri. “That’s your baby right now.”

His smile grew as he set off to his PT and you carried on your way to see Lando before the race. There was still over an hour until lights out but every minute had been scheduled for media duties, meet and greets, and the driver parade. You wanted to have a few moments of their time before releasing them to the wild.

Charles’ hand slipped from yours as you reached McLaren and he cradled your cheek before kissing you. “Are you alright to get back on your own?”

You rolled your eyes before looking at the Ferrari space four garages down. “I don’t know, it’s pretty far…I might get lost and end up in the Bellagio.”

“If you do, bet it all on Red for me,” he joked. The smile on his face dimmed as he saw the magician and Carlos waiting for him. “I’ll see you after the race, mamie. Je t’aime.”

“Love you too.”

“And Lando too.” He would have preferred to tell Lando himself but he just ran out of time with all the activities his team had planned for race day.

“I’ll let him know, and I’ll even give him a kiss from you,” you teased as you stole another kiss for good measure.

“Any advice from the current world champion?” he asked as he started to back away.

You shook your head. “It’s Vegas, baby, just give them one hell of a show.”

To say the atmosphere in Ferrari was charged was an understatement. There was resentment for Carlos’ car being destroyed and his mechanics gritted their teeth as they walked to the middle of the grid thanks to the penalties for fixing the car. On the other side of the garage, the side where you sat with Joris, excitement permeated the air as you watched Charles’ walk to his car parked in pole position.

You were torn between that excitement and the sadness that had followed you since leaving McLaren. Lando was being too hard on himself again for the bad luck he had qualifying 15th, but he was determined to make his way to the front of the pack. If anyone was going to be called Spitfire in the race, it was going to be him. He was going to dogfight his way forward from the moment the lights went out.

One of the cameras panned the crowd and you spotted him walking up from his spot three quarters of the way down the grid, all the way to the front where Charles was talking to Max. For a moment you were once again hit with the sense of longing to be out there but the feeling washed away as quick as it came.

“Do you want anything to eat?” Joris asked as he looked up from his phone. You chuckled knowing Charles would have sent the reminder text but you shook your head. 

“I’m fine, thank you. And you can tell Charles I am keeping hydrated too,” you said with a smile, shaking your water bottle for him to see. 

“You can always trust him to worry more about others, even when he’s meant to be focusing on the race,” he laughed as he sent the reply. “Have you thought any more about where you want to go for the maternity shoot?”

Charles had been eager to lock his friend in as the official bump photographer but there was still another four months until it was the best time to have them taken. He was also open to taking photos while you were in labour but you weren't too sure how you felt about that yet.

“Somewhere warm.”

“So no alpine backdrops then,” he chuckled, probably remembering how much you had complained about hiking in the snow last winter.

You scoffed at the idea, an adamant refusal to it. “Not if you’re expecting me to wear something that shows the bump.”

The action around the garages stilled as the guests on the grid were guided away for the formation lap to begin and you breathed a sigh of relief when Charles made it back to the first box without drama. Even Joris released a nervous laugh beside you. 

“That’s a better start,” he murmured so the engineers around him didn’t hear. 

“Couldn’t get any worse than the last one,” you replied just as quietly. 

You held your breath and felt the same rush of adrenalin fill you as if you were right out there in front of the lights with them. Your fingers twitched at your sides, the muscle memory begging them to prepare for action as each red light appeared, then all five were gone. The keen whines of twenty engines accelerating to their limit screamed into the night and you grinned at the sound even though it was muted by the headset. 

“Oh, fuck off, Max,” you screamed as he pushed Charles wide and they both went off track before pulling back on with your brother taking the lead. Suddenly your attention was brought to the back of the pack where multiple cars had been involved in an incident, but Lando had managed to avoid it and slip ahead a few places too. “Come on, baby, you can do it.”

Although there had been a lot of complaints about the showy nature of racing in Las Vegas, there was no denying it was a track that offered a lot of entertainment with long straights to overtake and high risk high reward corners too. You could barely sit still with your eyes glued to the many screens around the garage offering almost every angle of the race. 

“Ok, I think this race has just redeemed itself,” you commented with a smile as you watched the battles taking place around the track. 

“It is pretty amazing,” Joris said with his own excited grin, but shock fell over him and you snapped your head back to screen dreading seeing Charles out of the race again. But it wasn’t Charles. 

Sparks flew as the floor hit the asphalt and your brain couldn’t seem to understand why Lando’s car was facing the wrong way. Still it kept skidding along the straight at full speed, spinning back around just before it collided with the barrier at the end of the runoff. Your breath left your lungs with the force of the collision and your entire body stiffened as your ears began to ring loudly. Your stomach lurched as you desperately hit the keys on the screen to select the driver view and you saw Lando’s shaking hands pull his steering console out.

“I, I need to go,” you whispered as you stood up on weak legs. “Can you tell Charles?”

“Xavi can do that, I’ll walk with you,” he said with a shake of his head. His arm looped with yours and stabilised you as you tried to rush out of the garage. They weren’t even stopping the race because he wasn’t on track and that made you feel even sicker. What if someone else went into the runoff? 

“Mr Norris,” Joris called out, waving the worried man down. You blinked as you realised you were already in the McLaren garage, but you couldn’t remember the walk there. 

“He’s alright,” Adam assured you as he pulled you into his side and thanked Joris for the escort. “I spoke to him after he got out of the car. They are going to the medical centre. Come on, darling, we can go together.”

“He’s alright?” you double checked, your vision blurring with tears. 

Adam gave a sure nod as he started back the way you came, except he went towards the medical centre instead of the other garages. “His ribs hurt but he’s tough.”

Max said that when he was a child he would sleep walk, Vicki too. You imagined this was how they felt. Detached. Moving through darkness. Closing your eyes and waking in a new place. You blinked and the concrete path you were on was suddenly linoleum. 

“Lando…” you sighed as you found him on a gurney, white blankets tucked in close around him. 

“Heeeey,” he slurred happily, wincing as he snaked a hand out of his swaddle to reach for you. “It’s my girls.”

“You’re on the strong stuff, aren’t you, my love?” You faked a smile for him and took his hand, tilting your head towards Adam and the doctor explaining what was happening. You carefully leaned over the bed and kissed Lando until he broke out in giggles and his head lolled lazily back against the pillow. 

“They’re taking him to the hospital for some scans just in case there’s any broken ribs,” Adam relayed when he reached your side and gave Lando a kiss on his forehead. “How are you feeling, son?”

“It hurts to breathe, but this is good,” he said, holding up his hand that was connected to the IV bag filled with strong painkillers. 

A nurse came and unlocked the wheels on the gurney before asking who was going to ride in the ambulance with Lando. Adam looked at you and nodded, and though you knew he would have wanted to go with his son himself you were selfish and couldn’t leave his side. 

“I’ll follow behind,” Adam promised before Lando was wheeled away. 

You walked at Lando’s side out of the medical centre and found tv crews waiting, their cameras zoomed in on Lando and capturing his almost drunken state. A little loopy from the drugs in his system, he waved his fingers at the camera. “This will be on Netflix next year,” he laughed before wincing at the pain that flared. “So it’s safe to tell them, ‘I’M GOING TO BE A FATHER!’ and they can’t say a thing.”

Adam froze at his son’s outburst, though it was no secret that he was eager to shout to the world his joy. “Lando…” he growled, looking at your wide eyes.

“What? They aren’t allowed to use the footage for months,” he huffed. 

“That’s not Netflix,” you whispered, swallowing the lump in your throat as you watched the tv crew almost tremble with excitement. “That’s Sky TV.”

Click here for the next part.

[gallaghersgal]

okay okay, hear me out. marriage of convenience trope between carmy and uncle jimmy's daughter

hi dev bee !! thank u for the req my love <3 warnings; angst then comfort, hint of mean carm, then soft carm. very very very soft and fuzzy carm.

marriage of convenience from this trope list. part of my 1,500 follower celebration!

carmen needed unwavering financial support from your father, and you needed your family off your back about marriage. so, the two of you found yourself at the courthouse about a year ago. carmen was sweet, at the very least. he'd sent you with sugar and his credit card to thrift a vintage wedding dress, something you'd always wanted to do. he wore slacks and a navy button up with a white tie, his unruly curls hastily slicked back, one falling down in a spiral by his brow.

you kept your heart guarded to the best of your ability. sometimes it was difficult, when carmen would cook your favorite meals and maintain a level of attention to your needs that had never been met by another partner. all of that, without the romance or intimacy of your previous relationships either. it was honestly the most frustrating thing you've ever dealt with.

one night while the two of you maneuver around your one small bedroom getting ready to sleep, you mention to carmen how your parents have moved past bugging you about marriage and turned to questions about when you'd be having children. your husband frowned, wringing his hands in annoyance. "you knew that would happen when we started this," he snaps. "restaurant's in a good place, i'm paying cicero back, y-you can tell 'im we're separating."

oh. his words bite at you, a few tears welling in your eyes. "yeah, okay." you move to grab your pillow from the bed and keep your face hidden from him, not interested talking things out. you were scared if you spoke you'd say something you regretted. "i'll sleep on the couch."

carmen shakes his head, "hey, don't be like that. this has never-" he gestures between the two of you, a lost expression on his face. "don' look at me like a kicked fuckin' puppy. i'll take the couch."

that night as you lay in the king size bed your father had bought, you realize for the first time how much you'd grown to enjoy spending your nights with carmen. his warmth beside you tends to quell the loneliness in your chest and despite the lack of romantic connection, there's something between the two of you. when your eyes flutter closed you see the indescribable emotion on his face. when your restless body tosses and turns you imagine his warmth beside you.

around 3am you cave, seeking out your husband in the living room. his shoulder is warm as you rest your hand there and shake it gently. "carmen. carmen, wake up," you whisper.

he startles, bleary blue eyes peering up at you. "mmhf, hey," he grumbles.

"come to bed, don't sleep out here."

a puzzled expression crosses his features, "'s'alright, m' s'comfortable." his voice is soft and tired, and your heart swells.

you kneel down beside the couch, fingers gently brushing curls back from his forehead as you gather the courage to speak the words on the tip of your tongue. "carmen, i want you to come back to bed. i want my husband to sleep in our bedroom." you stop there, trying to convey the things left unspoken with the gentle touch of your hand.

and of course, carmen understands without a single word. he catches your hand, eyes locked on yours as he brushes a kiss to your open palm. "we can talk in the morning," he says, lips lifting into a gentle smile. his hand stays in yours as you return to the bedroom, one arm wrapping around your waist and pulling you close once the two of you are settled.

the last thing you hear before drifting off is his voice mumbling, "i think we can make this work."

[a-twistedheartslonging]

Soft

They/Them used for the reader, your tummy gets grabbed, dirty talk.

“-oh my, do you doubt my love for you then?”

“Huh? Oh, no . Nonono, of course not. I know you love me, and I love you a whole bunch too. It's just…I don’t understand why you're attracted to me... physically I guess.”  At that Jade immediately halts his steps, pausing mid-stride as he processes their words.

“Uh…Jade?” They question nervously from his side.

Shifting his towering, frame, he takes a moment to quickly survey his surroundings, glancing left and right to ensure they are alone before decisively closing the distance between them. With a sense of purpose, Jade plants his hands firmly on either side of the Prefect's head, the sheer size of his palms able to nearly engulf their face as he leans down, bringing his features mere inches from theirs.

“My my, what a cruel little human you are…”

“W-what? Jade, I don’t-”

The words die in their throat as an intense, bi-colored gaze bores into their eyes, an unreadable expression on his face as he silently scrutinizes them, the air thick with anticipation. They can feel Jade's warm breath ghosting across their skin, heart pounding in their chest as they wait with bated breath to see what the imposing figure will do next, half expecting him to use his unique magic to get his answer. 

Jade gazed down at the flustered human, a mischievous glint in his eyes as his mouth began to split into a wide grin, showing off the sharp teeth he typically hides. He could see the confusion and uncertainty written all over their face, and it only served to pique his interest further. 

With a low, rumbling chuckle, he leaned in closer, his face mere inches from theirs. "My dear pearl, you truly have no idea the effect you have on me, do you?" he murmured, his breath ghosting across their skin. The way their eyes widened, the faint tremor in their voice - it was all so deliciously endearing to him. Jade knew he was an imposing figure, towering over the smaller human, and he reveled in the power he held in this moment. But beneath his teasing, there was a genuine longing.

He ached to show them, to make them understand just how captivating they were in his eyes. With a featherlight touch, he trailed his fingers down their cheek, drinking in their flustered reaction. "Or perhaps," he purred in a low tone, "this is your way of testing me, of seeing how far I'll go to prove my affections?" His gaze darkened, smoldering with an intensity that left the Prefect trembling. Whatever the reason, Jade was determined to make them see - to make them feel - the depth of his love and attraction. This was no mere game; it was a dance of passion, and he fully intended to lead.

“Once you are again ready for me, I will be sure to kiss every freckle on your skin. I will bury my face into your soft pliant stomach, lovingly draw our initials with my fingertips, and savor the comforting warmth and-” His hand then drifts lower, caressing their hip with a gentle, almost reverent touch before moving to gently grasp a handful of their soft stomach.

“Suppleness of your lovely form.”

He moves his face to rest by their ear before speaking again, swallowing his salvia he almost drools at the combination of the Prefects scent with the mental picture of his next words. “How I look forward to when I get to once again kneed and suck that soft chest of yours...in the way I know you love. I want to see it bounce for me when I dig my claws into your hips and make them move with my thrusts. I want to again be crushed and choked by your cushy thighs. To nibble every inch of your body and leave many new marks, because not only do I find you lovely…”

“You. Are. Mine.”

As he speaks, he carefully enunciates each word, ensuring that every syllable is clearly articulated and emphasized before he slowly pulls back. Jade's hands linger on their body for a moment, his fingertips tracing the contours and curves one last time.

There is hesitance in his movements, a subtle resistance to the idea of removing that physical connection. Yet, with a deep, steadying breath, Jade straightens his posture, rolling his shoulders back and lifting his chin. The loss of that intimate contact is palpable, but he steels himself, pushing past the almost instinctive desire to maintain the closeness. His expression returns to his usual smile, betraying none of the conflict playing out within him, and clears his throat.

With a tilt to his head, he finally asks. “Now…shall I continue escorting you to your class?”