#arched display shelf

[90days-90reasons]

Living Room Enclosed

[sserasin]

bring it on

cw nsfw under cut, g!p yunjin, wnba!yunjin, female reader, cheerleader!reader, size kink, tummy bulging, degrading, use of pet names (bunny), use of degrading name (slut), unprotected sex (but she pulls out!), biting like once, locker room sex, kinda dumbification, reader kinda passes out for a sec

“y-you— did— so— well,” you gasp in between kisses, gripping her ginger hair at the base of her neck. you pull back, a string of saliva connecting your lips and your eyes flicker down to her smirking lips as she wipes the saliva away.

yunjin’s thumb pulls your bottom lip down, watching it bounce back into place, “i had a great cheerleader.”

you smile involuntarily, “i cheer for the entire team, not just you, y’know?”

“on paper,” yunjin sighs, hand trailing down to your clothed pussy. you were still wearing your cheer uniform— the basic short skirt and crop top. “but we both know the truth.”

you don’t have a comeback, merely grinning at her before tugging at her jersey, “are you gonna take this off or what?”

“oh, right here?” she chuckles, littering kisses all over your neck and sucking lightly.

“no one’s gonna come in,” you whine lightly, frowning at her with your sentence ending in a drawn out moan. you arch your back, pressing your tits against hers. your nipples perk up at the feeling of the jersey’s material and your uniform together.

“baby, with how loud you are, people will notice,” yunjin grins, but dutifully listens, anyway. she tugs your safety shorts to the side, your panties having a wet spot in the middle. when she runs her fingers through your folds, your panties stick to your pussy from how soiled they are. “i’ll slide right— in—” she plants a kiss down your chest with each word, bringing your top up to reveal your naked chest. she looks up, momentarily irritated, “you weren’t wearing a bra?”

“feels good,” you whine, throwing your head back. “jen, i can keep quiet, please.”

“we literally get noise complaints all the time,” yunjin smirks, hands gripping your thighs and hoisting you up to wrap your legs around her. you gasp in shock, eyes widening at the display of strength. it all just reminds you of how much taller yunjin was than you and how often she had to get things from the highest shelf for you, how she’d also often hold things out of your reach to be annoying, how she’d have to bend down to give you a kiss.

your eyes narrow at her, “because of you!”

yunjin presses her body against yours, rough jersey material rubbing against your pert nipples. you sharply inhale at the feeling, arching your back that’s against the wall. you can feel everything of yunjin. her chest pressed against yours, her hardening cock in her pants. “wanna bet?” she murmurs.

you scoff, pretending as if you weren’t highly turned on right now and practically soaking your panties and on her crotch area. “bring it on.”

yunjin’s eyes gleam, not saying another word as she presses her lips against yours. her hand cups your mound, teasingly sliding a finger up your slit before slipping in without any warning. your warm, tight walls welcome her and she almost moans against your lips, slipping her tongue in your mouth.

your hips buck, walls eagerly swallowing her fingers as she pumps them in and out. she curls them to easily reach your g-spot, your hand clenching against the back of her neck to ground yourself from moaning outloud. your breath is heavy as her pace picks up, the palm of her hand slamming against your clit and stimulating it.

your back arches against her, hand cupped over your mouth to prevent from making any noise. it was futile, though, as you were breathing too heavily and you could literally hear your slick squelching.

“look at you,” yunjin coos, free hand coming to grip your jaw as she held you up with her legs. you briefly think about riding her thigh, but decide you don’t want to wait any longer than you have to. “you feel good, bunny?” you nod with a mumble of her name, warmth spreading across your chest at the pet name. you grind against her fingers as you feel a knot forming in your stomach. she grins, feeling your legs shaking, “then why don’t you show everyone?”

it’s like her words gave you permission to come, your muffled moans and whimpers filling her ears like a sweet melody. she gently pulls her fingers out of you, making you wince before she kisses your cheek gently.

once you calm down, your eyes open and make contact with yunjin. you can still feel her cock against you, standing as proud as ever against your body. before she can even think of stopping, you grind your core against the roughness of her jeans. the stimulation hurts a bit, but you continue and eventually when you get the right angle, it turns into pleasure.

“oh,” yunjin breathes out, peering down between you two, “i haven’t even gotten an orgasm yet and you’re already wanting another one?” her smile is playful, but her eyes are dark, “you really are just a slut for dick, aren’t you?” you whine at the name, wrapping your arms around her neck in an attempt to pull her closer. “you’re so desperate you’d hop on anyone’s, bunny?” you shake your head frantically as her hands grip your waist firmly and pulls you off her.

“jen,” you drag out her name, “please,” your words are just below a whisper, a promise for just her, “i promise i’ll be good to you.”

“oh, i know you will,” she hums, her nose trailing up the side of your neck and making you shiver. your hole clenches around nothing, grinding down at air. “stop.” you listen, watching her as she lets go of you and still somehow manages to not drop you as she pulls her cock out of her pants.

yunjin presses her lips on yours as her cock slides through your puffy folds, slicking it up. like you said, you stay still despite wanting to move and sink down on her cock. the mushroomy head pushes past your folds, toes curling with each inch she slides in. she groans against your lips as you adjust to her size, feeling the tightness and warmth of your walls.

you roll your hips once you get too impatient when waiting for her to make the first move, “come on.”

“you always want me to do all the hard work,” she sighs, but listens. she raises you up before slamming you back down on her cock as she thrusts up, feeling the slight burn on your back from the wall. “which is so— fucking—” she groans, “—funny when you’re the one always begging for more. you’re such a desperate bunny

you gasp, clenching around her as the two of you set a consistence pace. you move when she thrusts, a mixture of your moans filling the warm air in the locker room. the fat head of her cock rubs against the spongy spot inside of your front walls with every thrust. whimpering against her shoulder, you swear you can literally feel her in your fucking womb. there’s an unfamiliar pressure on your lower abdomen, but you don’t really care enough to pay attention.

“oh, fuck,” yunjin groans, looking down between your bodies. a little out of it, you blink back a wave of overwhelmed tears and follow her gaze. the sight of it is enough to make you moan, rolling your hips forward weakly. a small bump was underneath the bottom of your stomach, your skin protruding slightly. her hand comes to rest lightly over the bump, “god, you’re so—“ tiny. compared to her, anyway.

“‘t’s too big,” you squeal, squirming away as she repeatedly hit your soft spot. you feel as if she was about to split you open on her cock. “you’re too big!”

“you can take it,” she grunts, biting down on your shoulder to conceal her noises as she ruts up into your faster. “you gonna give it to me, bunny?”

the only warning she has that you’re coming is you tightening around her, walls squeezing tightly around her cock as mindless babbles leave your mouth. she mosns as your cum creates a white ring around the base of her cock, slipping out of you and guiding your hand around her. her hand covers your entire hand as she jerks off hastily, doing most of the work but your hand felt too good around her, better than her own. her sharp gasp turns into a moan in your neck as thick ropes of cum paints your hands and stomach white.

you don’t know how long you’re out for, but you come to laying down on one of the benches as yunjin gently cleans you up. she pulls a pair of her spare shorts over you instead of your skirt, having been soiled from her cum. she smirks when your eyes meet, and you would’ve rolled your eyes if even that didn’t exhaust you. “welcome back.”

“shut up,” you try and say, but you’re sure it just comes out jumbled up as a mumble.

“don’t start battles you know you’ll lose, bun,” yunjin presses her lips to yours with a loud smacking noise, barely having to dodge your weak attempt to hit her. “‘cause i always win.”

[symbiomancy]

boutique —minotaur

—summary: Your minotaur companion ruined your underwear after your speed date, so he makes good on his promise to replace them.

// AO3 // monster masterlist

—cw: minotaur x reader, smut (p in v sex), creampie, belly bulge, squirting, size difference, mentions of fantasy racism (I tried to stop myself from adding plot obviously I failed ok)

—wc: 2,2k

—a/n: part 2 of this! also I'm switching to shorter smut for a while, I watched the haikyuu movie yesterday and I gotta write sth for my stupid rooster head captain on my main.

You exchanged phone numbers after your little tryst in the bar bathroom.

And you’re content to write it off as a one-off fling until he calls you on Tuesday evening to invite you shopping — because he still has to make up for the pair of panties he ruined (and kept). You cannot contain your grin as you settle on the time and place, and you confirm you’ve received the text with the exact address.

Said address leads you to a fancy boutique. You glance down at your yellow sundress, wipe off the imaginary lint, and ignore the thought of being underdressed to shop in a place like this. You glance at your phone to double-check the address. It’s the correct building.

You nearly jump out of your skin when the front door of the boutique opens with a flourish and your minotaur companion greets you with a wave. Some pedestrians pause and stare, and you duck your head and hurry over to the store door, press past the minotaur’s body to escape into the building.

The interior is nice, fancy even: high, arched ceiling and tall windows, pillar with intricate carvings situated around the store, cream-colored walls with black shelves, black tables displaying merchandise. Sculpted models of bodies are erected onto said tables and shelves, a different monster everywhere you look. One table has a naga statue, a shelf has something with tentacles you can’t make out from the distance, and a third displays a sculpted orc lady. Her tusks are capped with gold.

Other than you, the minotaur, and the display bodies dressed in gorgeous lingerie, the store is void of life.

“Nobody’s here today,” the minotaur says.

“Oh?”

“I take care of the business part of running a business; my sister works with designers to order from. She also arranges models and sculptors for the display models.” He places his hands on his thighs, and runs them up and down once as if he’s nervous. “It’s just us today. I hope that’s okay.”

You nod, and let a small smile curl your lips up. The minotaur motions you along with the sweep of his hand, leading you through the showroom, winding around the displays — they’re gorgeous, obviously not mass-produced — until you arrive at a section with models of familiar build on the tables. Humanoid.

He follows a few steps behind you as you make your way around the tables, stop to pick a garment up to examine it, then carefully place it back. They’re gorgeous: lace-trimmed pieces, bejeweled pieces, crotchless pieces — your face heats up when you pick up a cute pink thong and realize it’s crotchless. The minotaur behind you pointedly looks away.

There’s a plush seat outside the dressing rooms and the minotaur takes a seat, and motions you towards one of the stalls. Though it’s much less like the bathroom stall from your previous encounter and more like a small but spacious room carved into the wall, separated from the store by a curtain.

You stare at the array of lingerie sets on their hangers and reach for the red one, fold your dress, and place it onto the long seat in front of the mirror.

The red… looks good. You twirl in front of the mirror, place your hands on your chest, onto ur thighs, onto ur ass, turn again and again and again. You… look good. It’s comfortable, too; the bra doesn’t dig into your skin and the seams on the panties don’t itch. You reach for the curtain and take a deep breath, then pull it back.

The minotaur looks up from his phone, lets it slide between his thigh and the chair armrest. Heat rushes to your cheeks but it’s way too late to back out, so you give him a slow twirl. He’s silent, staring at you, a closed fist pressing against his mouth. The silence stretches, drags.

“Can I ask you something?”

“You look amazing,” he says then, voice strained. Your entire face explodes in warmth and you nearly trip over your feet as you step back into the dressing room, yanking the curtain between you. “Sorry, I —”

“No, like… I wanted to ask why you approached me at the speed dating event.” You shrug off the red set of lingerie and place it on top of your dress. You slide the white set off its hanger and — oh fuck, the crotch area is just see-through lace.

“You’re gorgeous. I wanted to meet you.”

Your face might melt off at this rate.

“Well, I mean, humans have a… reputation, and attraction to anything non-human is considered sexual deviancy on a fetishistic level — as if anything other than straight vanilla sex isn’t also considered sexual deviancy. High school health classes were miserable enough and they chose to spread the propaganda spiel about how you shouldn’t fuck anything non-human because they’re below us. ‘Humans are the superior race’ or whatever — what a load of crock, how are you smarter than something with three heads and three times the brain?” The white bra is even better, makes your tits pop.

On the other side of the curtain, the minotaur chortles. “The amount of lectures we got about not hooking up with human women…” he huffs. “Sexual deviancy part matches up, though.”

“Oh? Were your reasons more interesting than ours?”

“Well, they liked to say human women specifically would use us for our cocks, then cry about assault and have their males skin and wear us… Men would wage war even if it was consensual because they think we’re below them.” You wince at his words. “History sure isn’t pretty, huh?”

“Yeah.”

You pull the curtain back and step out, do your little twirl for him. He hums appreciatively, motions towards the large mirror next to the dressing room. You step up and angle your body back and forth as he looms behind you, arms crossed over his chest. His biceps bulge through the button-up shirt he’s wearing. His heated breath caresses your bare back.

“Are those two the only ones you picked?”

“No, there’s one more.”

The minotaur nods and steps back to allow you passage into the dressing room.

Inside, you nearly keel over when you realize the last set has crotchless panties. But considering your companion has once already rearranged your guts in objectively worse conditions… You pull the curtain back to stick your head out.

“I’m not coming out in this,” you say and motion him inside with the jerk of your head. He adjusts himself and stands, and oh — you pointedly ignore the bulge in his pants as he slips through the curtain. He doesn’t stray far from you, stands so close you can practically feel the heat rolling off his body. Slowly, you turn to give him the full view of the piece, try and fail to ignore the shape of his cock through his pants, fuck he’s huge, stop when you can look at him head-on in the mirror again.

The minotaur raises a hand, drags his fingertips across your skin, leaves goosebumps in their wake, up your thigh, over the curve of your hip, up your stomach. He pauses at your breast, places his large palm over it, and pinches your nipple between his fingers. You gasp, press back against him. The beast in his pants rests at your lower back.

His other hand finds purchase on your hip, drags over the front of your panties. You slide your legs further apart and his breath hitches when his fingers find your uncovered cunt. They stall on your clit and you try to grind against them, pushing your ass against him even harder.

The minotaur pulls the hand on your clit back and you want to whine as it relocates to your upper back. He pushes you forward. You nearly trip, barely bracing your hands against the plush seat with your dress and discarded items. He undoes his belt buckle with one hand and when he’s pressing against you next, the tip of his cock drags through your folds. You press back, try to grind against him.

“So impatient,” he tuts, pressing against your entrance. You’re almost shaking from excitement — every orgasm you’ve tried to draw out on your own between now and your little bar bathroom rendezvous on Saturday has been okay but not nearly enough to be thoroughly satisfying. Your own fingers are good but there’s something about another participant, one whose actions you cannot control and who could do whatever they want with you has something in your brain short-circuiting. He could use you as his personal fleshlight and you’d thank him just for being full of his cum.

The minotaur slowly pushes in and fuck, you can feel him everywhere. You stifle the moan in your throat as he bottoms into you — fuck, fuck, fuck, he’s so big you swear you can see him in your guts when you look down — and he pauses, exhales slowly. He’s thick, warm, you can feel every ridge, every pulsing vein on his cock pressing against your insides.

He moves, pulls out nearly all the way, and thrusts back in as far as he can. It drives the air from your lungs and with it, a loud gasp. Your face erupts in heat and you look down, away from your reflection in the mirror. He sets a slow pace at first and you push your hips back against him, skin slapping against skin. It echoes in your ears over the roaring blood, lewd and wet the sounds your pussy is making, and you try not to focus on it, yet it permeates through you, bounces around in your skull. He keeps the pace and lets his hands run over your body, petting and groping and tugging. His fingers catch your nipple through the sheer lace of your bra.

You cum right then and there, clench around him with a moan from the back of your throat, arms shaking under your weight. He slows and you frantically shake your head.

“More. More,” you manage between choked breaths, push your ass against his pelvis. He speeds up, hands traveling again, exploring. One rests on your right hip, the other cups the underside of your thigh and raises it, thrusts in and you nearly shout when he hits something so deep in you but it feels so good, so full.

So good and too much. He’s too big, too deep. He picks up the pace, every ridge and curve of his cock dragging against your insides. Your pussy dribbles around him, accommodates for his size even though it feels like he’s about to split you in half but he feels so good, he’s so deep. Every nerve in your body is alight, fingertips buzzing, mind fuzzy. You cannot form a single coherent thought, let alone words, and find yourself babbling nonsense mixed with pleas for more on his huge cock as he pistons in and out of your ruined pussy.

Maybe, maybe, those fuckasses had a point when they claimed human women would line up to be fleshlights for monsters.

Your vision blurs with tears — he’s too much, too much for your sanity, for your sopping cunt, as if he’s rearranging your insides with every thrust to fit himself in and you welcome it, meet his thrusts halfway with erratic hips. His hand moves, your thigh clutched in his palm, dragging your legs even further apart. He’s deep, so deep and his cock touches something and you see white, squirt around his cock as the orgasm hits you. Your body is on fire, heat rolling through your cunt to your torso to your extremities. Your arms are shaking under your weight.

Your fluid splatters over his pants but he doesn’t even react, mutters something under his breath, and picks up to pace to chase his own high in your spasming cunt. His thrusts are brutal, thick fingers digging into your flesh, fuck, you can feel him in the back of your throat. His breathing is loud and labored and even then it’s barely audible over the smacking when your skin meets and the squelch of your pussy as he pistons in and out.

The minotaur grunts, digs his fingers into your flesh so hard you nearly shout, and buries himself deep into your pussy. His cock pulses — fuck, you can feel it pulsing, spasming in your cunt — and cums with a groan. He presses in further, as if he has any room left, cums and cums and cums. There’s so much it seeps out of your pussy, coats your thighs as it traverses the length of your leg as it surrenders to gravity.

Everything aches. Your skin is sticky with sweat and cum, yours and his. Your breathing is erratic, chest heaving to take in oxygen.

He pulls out slowly, stifling a hiss. Pearly cum dribbles out of your pussy, lands in the puddle on the dressing room floor. Your legs give out but he’s there, large, warm, secure hands on your waist to keep you from falling. He picks you up with ease, lowers himself onto the plush seat, and rests you on his lap. You hear his heartbeat thundering under your ear but yours is no better right now.

“Would you…” he begins after a moment, still panting, and pauses to swallow. “Would you like to go out? On a real date, I mean.”

“Even though mingling with humans is the fetishistic kind of sexual deviancy?” You ask. Your minotaur laughs. It’s a pleasant sound, you find.

“Yeah.”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

banners by @/cafekitsune

[astralnymphh]

kneeling for her ⋆ | ellie williams headcanons

༺ ellie x fem!reader sucking her strap hcs/scenario! ༻ ☽𖤐☾

(ellie image from kittaeria on pinterest)

✧˖ ° 🕯 bright blessings!

AN: had the most random scenario blossom in my head yesterday so i wrote it per usual, went a lil more risqué with this one 😜at least to my standards

cw/tags: NSFW!! SMUT!! MDNI!! ellies a lil goofy in the beginning, blunt/straightforward-ish reader, not a fully wrote out fic, small time skips, sitting on lap, cursing, takes place in jackson but not specified to be before seattle (readers choice) soft-dom leaning ellie (except maybe less soft in one instance, nothing rough tho), guiding you verbally and with hands, praises, petnames; (good girl, baby, slut) sucking/choking on strap, clit stim (giving) strap-vag insertion, flatiron position, rewarding, gripping head/hair, deepthroating.

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

setting the scene

༻⛧one dusty orange sunset, cooped up in ellie's makeshift 'garage house' relishing a simple meal she whipped up for the both of you, albeit can you really classify her attempts at the art of culinary as five-star cuisine? regardless, the two of you slumped into the gray sofas' sufficient padding and dined like kings; in apocalyptic standards. no conversation had been rustling the space between you until a rather, interesting, unordinary, dare say- scandalous? scenario had implanted its peculiar self into your thoughts.

"hey babe?" you quell the silence, tone arching in curiosity.

"mhm?" ellie garbled through shut lips, chowing down her food.

"you know.. we should- try something new-"

"ooh~ like what?" she instantaneously hunches her back closer to you and tosses her barren plate aside, avid to hear your words go from mind to mouth. she invariably dotes on your ideas.

"uh- it's like.. related to.. bed stuff."

"like sleepin- wait! can we pleaaasee build a display shelf for my comic books above my bed-"

"ellie." 

"sorry." ellie, even being an adult, is still crazy about her long-kept hobbies.

"uh- anyways. I'm talking 'bout like.. sex." you impenitently tell.

her eyelids dim, sloping her head to the side in adorned interest, "sex? that's one way to ask."

"no ..seriously, I have an idea.." you stow the plate atop a stubby heap of books, conveying a genuineness in your stare.

ellie sails her tongue briskly through her lips, anchoring her torso back onto the sofas' arm, lengthening her legs out with a faint bend at the knees. her palm drops to her thigh, patting it twice.

 "c'm over here." she coaxes sweetly with an alluring gaze, imbued with a pip of power in her vowels.

a suffuse of blush overlies your midface, crawling your body towards her beckon.

her hands steady your hips down on her lap, finding refuge on the back of your thighs thereupon settling.

"what's the idea, then?" the moods' been shifted, emanating one of sensuality.

you nestle near her headspace, whispering, "y'know ur' strap?"

"yeah.." ellie likes where this is leading, clearly by her rapt smirk and tune of chords rising in tempt.

"what if I sucked it?"

⛧ oh boy, that set off a night she wouldn't be forgetting for the inbound days ahead. immediately you found yourself levitating up from the couch by her arms and bouncing on the mattress. a makeout session leads to fated stripping and now, your kneeling in front of her at groin-level and a hunter green mass protruding towards your nose bridge.

her optics glare down at you, the sight of you so keen and willing to do this. sure, it's not the real thing but the sight should and will be fucking exhilarating. 

"c'mon, what're you staring at?" ellie's hand gently smacks your cheek and splinters your blurry-minded trance.

you deduct a reply from your mouth, instead, taking a solid grasp of the strap and wrapping your lips round' the tip, all while preserving unwavering eye contact.

"shit.." 

her hands ease and twine the locks on each margin of your head, massaging the pads of her fingertips tenderly. her arousals' climbing new peaks every second at this rate. she presses her pelvis further upon your lip, steering you to open up.

your lips part and welcome the rotund tip in, stroking along your front teeth. the weak grasp on your head pushes the strap languidly to a greater extent that bounds it to the back wall of your throat.

"ach-" you jab out a cough.

"good girl, take that shit in.." 

⛧she's one to be in control, but it's nothing rough. her hands guiding you back n forth gently as the strap summons spurts of tickles in your throat each time it prods the back of it. it'd be far enough to chafe the hilt against her clit, per usual any time she wears the contraption, so you'd always hear quaint whimpers, curses, groans, etcetera, from above.

"mhh~ fuuhhhhckkkk.." ellie draws out a long euphoric groan, straining her neck back and exposing the mild protrusion of her adam's apple.

catching up with the motion, you begin bobbing your head on your own accord. her hands dull their hold and hover above, letting you work your utter sorcery, mouth wide open and drooling for her.

her head recoils down, "such a slut- oohh~ fuck.." 

⛧again, she's not rough without consent and a special occasion, but she'll clutch your hair firmly enough. to you, it's like her non-verbal sign that says 'go faster'.

thrusting your head faster, her own moans begin to burgeon and crowd the room over your sucking and popping noises. she looks so fucking hot from your angle, a clement sweat, fucked out face, leaning slightly back so her pelvis projects closer to you, a solo hand supporting on the back of her thigh, the other latched onto the apex of your head and knotting strands of hair around her fingers. it's all getting to you. 

"oh- baby, fuck- keep goin'n.. uhn- shit!" the climax augmenting within her hips jitters the shit out of her knees, begging to just buckle underneath her and collapse on the bed.

"gh- hn.." your words fumble around ellie's cock, still putting your all into pleasing her. adding a grip on the strap and stroking it was endgame for her, the adjoined knocking against her swelling bud ruined her.

⛧ellie's definitely more of a groaner and a huffer when she comes, it's not growling level but it's certainly not fake exaggerated ones.

⛧i think she's also the type who'd want you to come as well, like, there is not a single night where she's the only one getting pleased, she has to see you unravel and lose your shit under her.

"stop, baby- stop.." ellie hastily hushes through heaves of breath, pulling your head from the strap to which it springs off your lips.

"huh..?"

"m'not cummin' without you- fuck.." her fingers take a grapple at your jaw, guiding you up onto your feet.

you give her a blank stare until it's washed away with a surprised one as you're cast onto the bed, stomach down, ass up. she shambles over you and flattens you out till your hips settle in the cloudy mattress.

she mounts your thighs and inclines her crotch to yours, slowly inserting into your cunt from the back. her nails chisel into your plush hips, thumbs notably indenting on your ass.

"oh-my gmm.. ellie.." 

"god damn-" she mumbles to herself, cuffing out a quick chuckle, "you earned this.." positively rewarding you for your work.

insert a loooong night spent railing.

⛧random conclusion hc but I feel like in this position where she's behind you she'll litter you with kisses and bites on your shoulder-neck region, especially for being so good and disposed for her. 

⋆༺𓆩☠︎︎𓆪༻⋆

MASTERLIST

[emilys-bangs]

malleable | e.p

Tags: established relationship, fluff, mom!emily, no use of yn, reader isn't really present in this fic, halloween

Summary: Emily hates Halloween (but when her daughter asks her to dress up with her, she can't refuse).

Word count: 2.1k

If there’s anything Emily’s daughter is, it’s obsessed with Tangled. The movie plays at least three times a week on your living room TV; you and Emily have memorized the dialogue somewhere around three months ago. Now you can easily recite it in your sleep, close your eyes and clearly picture Rapunzel and Eugene’s next moves.

Despite that, your daughter still remains infatuated. Which is why Emily is only briefly surprised when Eloise drops her hand with a gasp and takes off running to the end of the costume aisle, colorful lights bursting along her sneakers as she runs to the purple dress packaged beneath a picture of the princess.

“This one!”

Emily smothers her smile as Eloise rises on the very tips of her tiptoes, her fingers wriggling impatiently as she tries to reach the costume. She falls a few inches short, and her displeasure is immediately known in the twist of her lips.

“Mommy.” She whines at her mother’s slow approach.

“Hmm,” Emily hums. “How many times have we said not to run off, Eloise? You know you can’t do that when we’re outside.” She sweeps messy bangs away from Eloise’s eyes—the exact same shade as her own.

“Sorry. Can I have it? Please?” She settles back on the soles of her feet and hugs Emily’s legs. “Please, please, Mommy.” Her mouth curls into a pleading pout.

The long repeated reprimand fades into the background. Your daughter is usually good at following it, almost always content with holding either your hand or Emily’s, so she smiles softly and lets it go this once. 

“How about we see it first, yeah sweetheart?” One of her hands goes to Eloise’s back as she grabs the costume off the shelf. Shades of purple wink up at her through the clear plastic, peeking out from beneath Rapunzel’s picture and the picture of the little girl displaying it. “Cute,” she says, absently combing her fingers through Eloise’s hair.

“Wanna see.”

Emily bends over to get closer to Eloise, letting her take the costume from her hands. “What do you think?” She murmurs, brushing her daughter’s bangs over the soft arch of her eyebrows. “Do you like it?”

“Yes!” Eloise gasps.

The palpable excitement in her voice makes the garish costume store a little more bearable. Emily smiles as she adjusts the hem of Eloise’s sweater down her stomach, having risen up in her strenuous pursuit of the costume. “Are you sure that’s the one you want? We haven’t seen many others.”

“Wanna be Rapunzel.” Eloise says firmly, nodding to herself as she hugs the dress to her chest.

“Alright, well if you’re sure,” Emily laughs, not in the least bit surprised at her five-year-old’s resoluteness. It’s something she’d gotten directly from her; Emily’s heart only expands at seeing roots of herself grow in her daughter.

“I’m sure.” Eloise drags out the word, stretching it out so it sounds like duh.

“Okay. Let me see if that’s your size.” Emily holds out her hand. With great reluctance, Eloise hands her the costume. Emily huffs out an amused laugh as she straightens, distantly wondering where her daughter got such an intense love for Halloween from. You’re mostly indifferent, and she hates it with more passion than it deserves. But your little gremlin has been talking nonstop about her costume for the past week, and after a brief debate—which Emily lost—you finally found the time to take her.

Though Emily feels two little arms wrap around her thigh, she places a hand on Eloise’s head for extra measure. Small fingers tickle her through her jeans as she rifles through the costumes, humming until she finds the proper size.

“Here it is. I think that’s about it—”

“I’m gonna be Rapunzel and you’re Mother Gospel!” Eloise announces as she steals the costume from Emily’s hands. Emily’s brows furrow.

“Gothel.”

“Garthel.”

Every time.

Emily lets it go. Instead she focuses on the more pressing issue her daughter presented. “You want me to be your evil Mommy?” She frowns at Eloise, the pout of her lips exaggerated.

Eloise is unfazed. “You’re not my evil Mommy, you’re ’punzle’s evil Mommy.” She says sagely. The circles of her eyes are wide, a shine to them that almost always ensures she’s going to get what she wants. “And I’m Rapunzel so you have to be her Mommy.” She reasons.

Emily swallows a grimace at the hopeful tone in her voice. Her distaste for Halloween peeks through her love for her daughter, the two conflicting sides clashing together as she looks down at the five-year-old expectantly tilting her chin up. 

“Honey, I don’t really like wearing costumes for Halloween.” Emily says, slowly, as if it’ll soften the blow.

Eloise frowns. “Why?”

“Uhh...” It’s not the easiest thing to explain to her toddler that she despises the holiday partly because of her inability to unsee masked unsubs everywhere. But really a huge part of it Emily doesn’t understand herself; the unrestrained chaos of it, the headache of coming up with a costume each year, and—in more recent years—swapping out the candy after her daughter has passed out. It’s more hassle than it deserves, and Emily simply doesn’t have the patience for it.

“I don’t know.” She raises her shoulders in a jerky shrug. Her words seem extra lame when Eloise tilts her head, confused. “I’m not a fan, I guess.”

“But it’s Halloween.” She whines.

“I know, bug. But you know who’d match really well with you? Your—”

“Want you to be Mother Gospel.” Eloise grumbles, interrupting before Emily can throw the role on you—like she did last year. Her eyes turn stormy dark as the disappointment settles, etching itself in delicate frown lines across her young face. The happiness of acquiring her costume dissolves into a cloud, one that starts growing gray above her head, gathering with rain that reflects in Eloise’s eyes.

Emily’s stomach turns with guilt.

“Ellie…” She chews on her lip, feeling herself crumble beneath her daughter’s gaze. But then her eyes flit to the costumes around them and her nose wrinkles, almost against her will. “We’ll talk about it at home, okay? Let’s just get your costume now, it’s almost lunch time.”

Eloise sulks. She thrusts her arms out, a frown digging between her brows. “Mommy up.” She demands, almost as if it’s punishment.

Emily finds herself smiling. “Yes, my liege.” She says playfully, lightening her tone and hoping to pull a similar smile from her daughter as she lifts her up into her arms. Emily stifles a grunt as she heaves Eloise up against her chest, a dull strain pulling the muscles of her arms taut as she secures her little girl to her body, where she always used to lay as an infant. Admittedly, Eloise is heavier than she used to be, her rapidly growing body settling more firmly against Emily’s side. But she knows these days are starting to slip from her fingers, the sand draining to the other end of the glass, so Emily grasps each opportunity she can get, regardless of the ache in her back and hip. 

Eloise still doesn’t smile back, so Emily kisses her cheek, hoping to find a dimple. “You know, you could do with being Mother Gothel yourself.” She murmurs as Eloise settles against her, the costume halfway squished between their bodies.

“She’s not a princess,” Eloise sighs heavily as she lays her head on her shoulder.

Which is definitely her only fault.

“How could I have forgotten,” Emily says, absently sweeping another kiss over Eloise’s forehead. “She’s not a princess. Does this come with a crown?” She tries to look down at the costume.

“Nu-uh.”

“Well, that won’t do. Our princess needs a crown, doesn’t she?”

“A purple crown.” Eloise agrees. 

“A purple crown,” Emily parrots. She hoists Eloise higher on her hip, forcing her eyes away from the sweet relief of the cashier and to the endless shelves of accessories. She swallows down a deep sigh and tries to think of her daughter’s happiness. “Let’s browse their selection, shall we?”

___

“It’s the best costume in the world!” Eloise gushes, her eyes bright with excitement. She trips over the word costume, switching the s and t, which strikes Emily as a little odd for a girl who can effortlessly pronounce Rapunzel. 

She laughs as she fixes the crown on Eloise’s head, silently hoping she never grows out of her endearing quirks. “It is pretty cool. Fine choice, m’lady.” She grabs Eloise’s hand and twirls her around in front of the mirror, smiling when the little girl giggles at the flare of her dress.

They spin until Eloise grows dizzy, tumbling into her mother, so Emily gently sits her down on the carpeted floor of her room. Her cheeks are flushed, the deep brown of her eyes glittering with glee. Once again her tiara tilts, slipping on her head.

“Your crown is lopsided, princess,” Emily murmurs, smiling as she fixes it. “Careful, it’s gotta be on straight.” 

Eloise giggles, the sound breathless and bright as she places her hands on Emily’s knees, scrunching the fabric of her sweatpants. “Can we put the flowers in my hair?” She asks, tilting her head up to meet Emily’s eyes. The crown jostles further.

Emily hums and leaves it, finding the task futile. “Yeah, that would be a nice touch,” she taps the tip of her finger on Eloise’s nose, “maybe we can have some daises and—”

“And your hair curly!”

“Mine?” Emily’s brows lift. “Why? I think it looks pretty like this, don’t you?” She shakes out her—admittedly flat—hair.

Eloise shakes her head no. Her eyes narrow critically; she suddenly looks so much like you that Emily’s heart warms, a more than familiar desire to take her daughter into her arms and pepper her face with kisses floating through her veins. 

“Y’cant be Mother Garthel without curly hair.” Eloise says.

The feeling dims. 

“Eloise,” Emily sighs. “Mon chou, Mommy doesn’t wanna dress up.” She shrugs meekly.

“Please? Please, please, please, Mommy. Henry’s Mommy is gonna wear a costume. And Jack’s Daddy.” Eloise’s eyes grow wider as she crawls into Emily’s lap. Emily’s arms automatically wrap around her, the walls of her resolve crumbling as Eloise burrows closer. She can feel her walls tumbling down, a weary reluctance surfacing from beneath the chipped pieces of her hatred for the holiday as Eloise’s small fingers twist into the fabric of her sweater.

Distantly, Emily thinks that she used to be stronger than this. Her will was iron clad, her mind—once made up—impossible to budge. She’s still like this, you’d argue, only she’s incapable of showing that front to her daughter. She’s putty in Eloise’s hands, bendable and soft and completely, embarrassingly pliant. Which is inconvenient. 

Still, Emily gently reminds her daughter of last year’s Halloween. The effort is half hearted at this point, the image of you and Eloise in your matching costumes fuzzy even in her own mind. When Eloise whines quietly, a sulk dragging her mouth down, it tips her over the edge.

“Want it to be you.” She says, her bottom lip starting to quiver.

Which is how Emily finds herself dressed in a red velvet dress on the 31st of October, her hair extravagantly curled and her hand held in Eloise’s. Her other arm is around your waist, her fingers absently rubbing the soft warmth of your costume.

“Thought you said you weren’t dressing up.” JJ’s brows lift, an amused glint shining in her eyes. You’re all standing on her porch, waiting for Henry to come out of the bathroom to take the kids trick or treating.

“The princess demanded it,” Emily says. Try as she might to sound annoyed, she can’t, because Eloise is beaming up at her, a wide grin on her face that displays all of her teeth. Emily smiles back, carving a dimple in her cheek that’s identical to the one in her daughter’s.

“Rapunzel can’t go as Rapunzel without Mother Gothel, right?” She winks. Eloise giggles delightedly, giving Emily a firm nod as she leans into her side.

Even with Jack next to her—dressed as Batman, with Hotch as Robin—she doesn’t let go of Emily’s hand. Her fingers are small and chilly, leeching warmth from the cocoon of her mother’s palm. The small gesture makes Emily’s heart squeeze, her body flood with warmth, and this miniscule pocket of mundanity makes Halloween well worth it.

“And what are you mean to be?” Hotch frowns, the edges of it soft and playful as he directs the question to you.

Emily turns, smothering a laugh at your defeated expression. The pale green of your onesie stands out against the setting sky, the fading rays of the sun illuminating the frog eyes on your fuzzy hood.

You sigh, low and resigned and somehow still overflowing with love.

“I’m the chameleon.”

taglist: @suckerforcate @sickoherd @lextism @catssluvr @i-lovefandom @haiklya @justhereforthosefics @storiesofsvu@ashluvscaterina @basicallyvivi

[ikkyfics]

hiii, could you maybe write a dave lizewski x reader where the reader is also a huge comic book nerd like dave? and he comes over to her place to help her organize all her comic books + action figures into her display shelves + they yap together abt comic stuff or something

it can be established rs or pre relationship, i think either way would be still be so cute!!! it would also be rlly cool to see a more sarcastic reader utilized here, its cute to see that dynamic with dave!!!

i rlly hope this makes sense! i hope it didnt seem too rambly 😭😭😭😭 thank uuuuu

Supreme Sarcasm Power

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: "I knew you had an impressive collection, but… this is practically a nerd sanctuary." "You only say that because you want to marry me and get half of the assets in the division," you retorted. The teasing tone made Dave flash a crooked smile, nearly dropping the action figure. "I don't need a comic collection for that," he shot back, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Just you."

Warnings: just fluffy

A/N: honey, yeees I understood, don't worry. I feel like I made a mistake with the nerdy references(so sorry), but I hope you can like it <33

Masterlist

The room was a perfect reflection of your personality: half Disney princess, half intergalactic warrior. Cute plushies shared space with incredibly detailed action figures, and shelves full of comics contrasted with delicate pastel-colored lamps. Dave was in the middle of the organized chaos, holding a Captain America action figure in one hand and a Watchmen comic book in the other.

"I knew you had an impressive collection, but... this is practically a nerd sanctuary," he said, trying not to sound too impressed—and failing miserably.

"You only say that because you want to marry me and get half of the assets in the division," you retorted, not even looking up as you stacked some issues of Saga. The teasing tone made Dave flash a crooked smile, nearly dropping the action figure.

"I don't need a comic collection for that," he shot back, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. "Just you."

"Aww," you replied, turning to face him with an arched eyebrow. "But if you drop my Captain America, forget it."

Dave chuckled, slightly flushed, as he carefully placed the action figure on the designated shelf. "Seriously, how did you get this? This limited edition costs a fortune."

"Connections," you replied mysteriously, crossing your arms. "And what I did was sell part of my soul. Totally worth it, don't you think?"

Dave laughed, still eyeing the action figure in his hands before carefully returning it to its proper spot on the shelf. You could feel his gaze lingering on every detail of your room, as if he was absorbing it all. It was the kind of attention he gave to everything he loved, and, well, you knew that included you. But you weren’t going to admit that out loud, at least not without making a sarcastic comment right after.

"So, what's next on the organization list?" he asked, putting his hands on his hips in an awkward but absurdly adorable way.

You pointed to the stack of boxes in the corner of the room. "That one. But be careful with the one at the bottom, it has glass. And if you break something... well, let's just say not even the Hulk will protect you."

"Got it," he responded with a serious expression that lasted two seconds before giving way to a nervous smile. "No ruining my entrance to the Avengers, noted."

As he bent down to grab the next box, you returned your focus to organizing the comics alphabetically—because, of course, it had to be alphabetical. It didn’t take long for the comfortable silence to be broken by a strange sound coming from Dave: a mix of a sigh and a stifled laugh.

"What’s up?" you asked, not turning around. The casual tone was a clear attempt to ignore the little wave of concern that hit you. After all, that kind of sound coming from him usually meant he'd found something... compromising.

He didn’t answer, which only made your anxiety worse. When you finally turned around, your heart practically dropped to your stomach. There he was, holding a Quicksilver poster with a lipstick mark strategically placed on the character’s cheek. The bright red contrasted with the worn paper, clearly loved too much during its glory days.

"Oh, God," you muttered, bringing a hand to your face. "Dave, give me that."

He held the poster above his head with a grin so wide it looked like it might split his face in half. "I didn’t know you were such a big fan of Peter Maximoff."

"I’m not!" you shot back, already crossing the room toward him. "It was a teenage thing. Give it to me before I die of embarrassment."

"Teenage?" He raised an eyebrow, as if processing a revolutionary discovery. "You used to kiss posters as a teenager?"

"I didn’t kiss posters!" you exclaimed, trying to jump and grab the paper, but he had the height advantage. "It was just... I had a crush, okay? And that’s none of your business!"

He laughed, stepping back. "I think it is. After all, I’m the one who’ll have to compete with Quicksilver now."

"Dave Lizewski, I swear I’ll..." you began, but he interrupted, holding the poster even higher.

"What are you going to do? Summon your supreme sarcasm powers? Because, as far as I know, that’s not going to help you get this," he teased, his eyes gleaming with pure amusement.

You sighed, trying not to show how defeated you were in your own specialty: keeping composure. Dave seemed to be enjoying every second of this role reversal, holding the poster like a freshly won trophy, his dark curls slightly messy on his forehead, and his blue eyes shining behind his glasses. It was hard to stay truly mad at him when he had that expression—a half-smile, half-mischievous grin—that made your heart stumble before you even realized it.

But you weren’t going to give up that easily.

"Do you really want to turn this into a battle?" you shot back, crossing your arms and raising an eyebrow. "Because, as far as I know, you’re not exactly known for winning."

He laughed, a low chuckle that seemed to reverberate in the space between you. "Oh, sure. This coming from the person who’s literally turning red just because I found out she kissed posters."

"I didn’t kiss posters," you repeated, even though the evidence was incriminatingly clear.

Dave raised his hand even higher, the poster swaying dangerously above you both. He wasn’t exactly tall, but he was strong in a way that didn’t seem obvious at first glance—not until you noticed the muscles in his arms, visible even under the sleeves of his T-shirt. You tried again to grab the poster, but he leaned back, laughing once more.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," you muttered, stopping your jumping and placing your hands on your hips. "I can't believe I’m losing to you."

"That’s what makes me a genius, right?" he responded, still with that teasing tone. "I finally figured out your weakness: teenage embarrassment."

"No way," you said, your voice firm, even though the back of your neck was still warm.

You knew you needed to change strategies. Jumping and trying to grab the poster clearly wasn’t working, so it was time to do what you did best: turn the tables in your favor.

Straightening your posture, you took a step closer to him, closing the distance until you were almost invading his space. Your gaze deliberately moved from his eyes to the poster, then back to him, your lips curling into a slow, deliberate smile.

"Okay, you won," you said softly, your voice dropping to a low, almost melodic tone. "But, if we’re talking about kisses..."

Before he could process what was happening, you placed your hands on his torso—heat and firmness under the thin fabric of his T-shirt—and took another step closer. Your fingers lazily running along his sides.

"...maybe you want one too?"

You saw the instant transformation in him. The confident smile faltered, his eyes widened slightly behind his glasses, and color rose on his cheeks with almost comical speed.

"W-what?" he stammered, his voice faltering like someone had pressed the wrong key.

You seized the advantage, tilting your head slightly as if considering the idea seriously. "You heard me. Just tell me, Dave. I’m generous like that."

The poster started to drop—finally—but by this point, you didn’t even care about it anymore. All that mattered was the growing heat between you, the way his eyes couldn’t decide whether to look at yours or your lips, and the way his breath had become slightly irregular.

"I... I mean..." he tried, but the words tangled in an adorable way.

"Dave," you interrupted, your voice a little firmer, but with a hint of tenderness.

"Hm?"

"I don’t want the poster," you admitted, letting your hands slide a little higher up his chest. "I just want you."

The silence that followed was thick, but in a way that made the air feel electrified. He finally let go of the poster, letting it fall to the floor carelessly, while his arms came around your waist, pulling you gently closer.

"You don’t play fair," he murmured, his voice husky, but with that mischievous smile still present.

"I know," you replied, leaning in his direction until your lips finally met.

The kiss was slow but full of intention, a mix of quiet laughs and a passion that seemed to overflow with every touch. It was a little clumsy, as always, but that only made you fall for him more.

When you finally pulled apart, he was grinning from ear to ear, his eyes sparkling in a way that made everything around you feel lighter.

"You won this time," he said, with a theatrical sigh.

"I always win," you retorted, giving his chest a little push before turning to grab the forgotten poster.

But as you crouched down to pick it up, he spoke again:

"Just so it’s recorded... I definitely wouldn’t mind being defeated like that more often."

And in that moment, as you laughed and tried to look indifferent, all you could think about was how Dave Lizewski was your favorite victory.

[surielstea]

No one, But you

Based on this request.

Pairing: Cassian x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader feels as if she isn’t cultivated enough, Cass comforts her.

Warnings: Slight insecurities | mention of a pregnant reader | pure fluff

2.1k words

The cold wind nipped at my cheeks as I walked along the cobble stones of Velaris.

My mates hand intertwined with mine, the only thing heating me up. Cassian and I were doing some last minute shopping for solstice presents, he had four bags on his right arm and in his left, his fingers were busy being intertwined with mine, refusing to let me carry anything.

Amren is the only person we have yet to buy anything for, so we had one more stop at the jewelers before going home.

It wasn't often the General of the Night Court roamed Velaris so casually, especially not with me. It was rare I went out at all, but with Cassian? That was once in a year. I was a quiet person, liked to mind my business and hated being approached by strangers. So I typically left the house with Azriel or Amren, civilians knowing better than to talk to them. But Cassian, he was a seven foot tall beacon of light practically calling people to gawk at him, and they did.

I was young, only a century or so years old and had nothing on Cassian. He'd had enough stories to fill a library, all before I was even born. We mated nearly a decade ago but still, people were lost on who I was or what I was to any of the Inner Circle. Even if I liked to keep my peace it had some negative sides too; for example, every girl I've ever met thinks Cassian is single.

Which has become glaringly obvious now that I've become attentive to it. The cashier that bagged our gifts wouldn't peel her eyes off of him, even when he was talking to me.

At another store we bumped into a gorgeous female who Cassian supposedly bedded for a few nights in his twenties.

We walked along the streets and people straight up ogled at him, ignoring me at his side. I didn't want the attention, but it'd be nice if I was at least noticed.

Palace of Thread and Jewels sat on the bank of the Sidra that was frozen over this time of the year. Cassian reached out and opened the door for me, letting go of my hand as I entered the toasty shop.

Neve, a dear friend of Rhysand's, stood behind the display of gems and jewels, she was one of the only people outside the Inner Circle who knew of me and Cassian.

"Neve, afternoon." I smile at her. "Hello you two, shopping for Amren I presume?" Her glowing eyes flash with knowing and I shyly smile. "Have the rest of them already been here then?" I tilt my head and she nods. "I'm certain it's your group that keeps my shop in business." She claims and I shake my head with a small breathy chuckle. "Though we did just get a new collection in, the delivery men were just here I have yet to even unpack the items." She admits and my brows shoot up. "We'd like to see those." Cassian's arm slings over my shoulders. She gives both of us a smile before going into the back room.

I look at the display while I wait for her to return, peering down at a pair of tear drop ruby earrings that reminded me of Cassian's siphons. They matched the wedding ring on my left hand, I twisted it subconsciously, fiddling with the red gem. Cassian seems to notice, his eyes trailing to what I was staring at.

Neve returns in a flurry of shadows, carrying a long display shelf filled with large rocks and gems, placing it on the counter in front of us. I take in the collection, eyes glancing over every glimmering stone, freshly polished and gleaming like a star. Then I halt when coming across a black diamond bigger than my fist and most likely more expensive than an entire months’ paycheck. But this is the one.

Cassian seems to get the hint. "We'll take this one." He gestures to it, learning from last time not to touch. "Splendid." Neve smiles and plucks the gem up with a gloved hand before wrapping it and placing it in an ornate box. "Anything else?" She arches a brow. "That's it—" I begin. "Those ruby earrings as well." Cassian interrupts, pointing towards the jewelry I wanted. "Cass, it's too much." I shake my head with creased brows but he only waves me off and nods his head at Neve. She smiles and fetches those from the display, placing them in their own box with a delicate white bow tying it all together.

Cassian paid without so much as a blink while I grimaced in the background, the price far more than I had in mind— and if Cassian is buying me stunning earrings just because I looked at them, it made me wonder what he got me for solstice.

I had yet to tell him I'm pregnant, planning it all out so the last gift he opens tomorrow night will be a small pink pacifier. I was nearly a month in, barely even showing so Cassian hadn't noticed. We had been trying for a child for a few months now. I've had my scent glamoured and Madja told me last week we're having a girl, I was so excited I nearly told him, nearly came home and attacked him onto the floor with the amount of pure joy I was overwhelmed with.

But I maintained it, telling the shadow singer instead— who was the only person I knew could keep their mouth shut, the spy-master happened to be awfully good at guarding secrets. Lucien found out as well, somehow able to see through the glamour on me with his whirring golden eye.

We left the shop with a farewell to Neve and I wrapped my hands around his bicep as I look up at him with a bright smile. "You didn't have to do that." I say and he shakes his head. "It's all worth it for that smile." He hums, not watching where he's going as he mindlessly stares into my eyes. "Thank you—" My words are cut off by Cassian's head whipping up and pulling me back from a group of girls who were about to run into me. "Sorry ladies," He nods, flashing them a polite smile that could easily be mistaken for something else. "We don't mind." A blonde blushes as they pass by us, giggling amongst each other. "That was weird." Cassian mumbled as he continued our walk home, pulling me along.

Was he really so oblivious to not notice that every single one of those girls were prepared to open their legs right then and there for him? So blinded that he didn't even notice the way any of them looked at him?

Something like dejection overwhelmed me, perhaps Cassian should be with girls like that, girls who radiated pure joy and high energy, not someone's who's social life consisted of a close circle of friends and occasionally a shopkeeper.

Every girl I've met who used to have a thing with my mate has always been the sheer opposite of me. Perhaps that's what he preferred, just settled on me because we're cauldron willed, mates. Sometimes I thought that fate got it wrong. He was too good, too fun and upbeat, the life of the party. I couldn't be further away from the Generals type. He needed someone who has just as much experience as him, someone who loves to go out and dance until daylight— not someone who cuddles into bed with a book and a cup of tea.

His hand squeezes mine and he tears me from my thoughts, looking up at him confused. "Did you hear me?" He asks and I curse myself. "I'm sorry," I shake my head no. "Don't be sorry. I said, do you want to grab food or are you ready to go home?" He raises a brow and I swallow. Wondering what he truly wanted.

"Is it okay if we go home? I'm tired." I admit and he nods. "Of course sweetheart." He smiles down at me, I was foolish to think he'd ever want something I didn't, foolish to think he'd ever want someone other than me, but still, those thoughts lingered in the back of my mind at a constant.

Once arriving back to The House of Mist, food is already on the table. The residence seemingly knowing my growing cravings because every dish on that table held breakfast food. "Pancakes for dinner then?" Cassian hummed and I blinked, then shrugged.

I sat myself at the table as Cassian went to our bedroom to put down the gifts. I quickly thanked the magic House for the meal and it replied by placing a plate in front of me, eager to help me in any way it can.

I stack a tower of pancakes onto my plate, then nearly drowned it in maple syrup sourced from the Autumn Court. My mouth watered at the meal and Cassian returned, freshly changed into lounge clothes before sliding into the seat beside me, plating his own meal.

"I wonder what sort of crazy gift Mor will get me this year," Cassian thought absentmindedly and I shrugged, still a little down from my lingering thoughts— though the pancakes helped. "What's got you down, my sweet?" His knee nudges mine and I glance to him, his eyes searching my features for any clue as to what's wrong.

"It's hard to explain," I shake my head, looking back to my plate. "I've got time." He excuses and a sad smile tugs at my lips. "You're just very, experienced." I try to simplify but his brows crease, clearly confused. "Forget it." I mumble, picking up my plate and carrying it into the kitchen, he's quick to chase after me.

"Talk to me sweetheart," He pleads as I place my dish in the sink. "Please." His words seem to kill any doubt I have and I turn to him, looking up, and up, into his warm, hazel eyes. "It's just, when we were out shopping today you got approached by ten different females." I explain and he blinks.

"Which is fine, I know that's not your fault but— I don't know, they all seemed so exotic and fun. Seemed like the kind of person for you." I shrug and his gaze softens. "Oh my love," He sighs, hands going to mine, guiding my palms to his jaw. "There's only one person for me," He shakes his head, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

"Mates or not, I truly believe you were made for me, and I for you." He hums. "And there's something so attractive about the fact that I'm the only male you've been with." He purrs and I roll my eyes with a flush. "But if you think for even a second you're not the one for me then you've been lied to." He rules, finally pressing a kiss to my lips.

"Opposites attract right?" He arches a brow and I shake my head with a soft giggle. "You're awfully nice to me." I say with a meek voice and he presses another kiss to my lips, his mouth slotting over mine and fitting me like a puzzle piece. I smile against the action and pull back with a wide grin. "There's my pretty girl," He whispers, hands on my cheeks as his thumb brushes over my bottom lip.

"Solstice is tomorrow." He reminds and I nod. "Did you get me something special?" He flutters his lashes. My hand subconsciously goes to my stomach. "Maybe," I say evasively, twirling out of his grasp and walking down the hall. He whined and wrapped his arms around me, his heavy body being dragged along with my movements down the hall.

He’s been trying to coerce what I got for him for days now. "You're relentless." I roll my eyes. "Just tell me." He groans and I shake my head. I've held out about being with a child for a month now, he'd have to wait one more day.

"Sorry Cass," I shake my head, leading him into our bedroom as he continues to drape himself over me. "Why don't you distract yourself by preparing for your annual snowball fight?" I offer and his arms snap away from me, scowling as I recall his losing streak.

"Maybe you'll win this year, General." I wink at him with a smirk and he grumbles a curse, flopping down onto our large bed then opening his arms for me. I smile and crawl into his embrace, allowing his large muscular arms to twine around my body as I pulled a book from my nightstand and opened to the page I was on.

Perhaps I didn’t need to be fun or exotic, maybe he liked the tranquility of all this. He pressed a reassuring kiss to arch of my neck, peering over my shoulder as he read along with me.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glam-targaryen @going-through-shit @fauxdette @impossibelle @amara-moonlight @webecheesy-blog @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogersbarnesxx @loviseamms

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[hanjisung-enjoyer]

friends w benefits; ksm

tags: dom!seungmin, afab!reader, oral (m rec), facefucking, recording, a lil soft aftercare

“ just like that,” seungmin grunted under his breath.

if his head wasn’t thrown back against the wall, you would be able to see his usually soft puppy-like features contorted in pleasure as you take his cock down your throat.

however, he couldn’t let you know how crazy you made him.

he couldn’t let you know how affected he was by the way your hips swayed to the music during their group practice earlier, the curves of your body hugged by small shorts and a white tank top that allowed him a glimpse of your cleavage every time you bent down.

he couldn’t let you see the way his cock twitched in his pants when you dragged him by the wrist into the closet after the practice had concluded, teasing and whispering into his ear how his staring didn’t go unnoticed for the last few hours spent together.

and he absolutely couldn’t let you find out about how his heart melted when you pressed your lips against his, molded in a perfect rhythm that made him want you in more ways than the horny arrangement the two of you had going on for the last few weeks.

however what seungmin could let you notice was how jealous he got when he found his members sneaking peaks at what was his and his only. he took note of how low minho’s hands sat on your body as he adjusted your position, or how jeongin sneaked over to stand directly behind you every time the dance called for you to be leaned over, perfectly displaying your ass for the world to see.

so that’s how you ended up taking seungmin’s cock in a storage closet.

saliva pooled down your chin at each bob of your head, accompanied by small whines that would escape your throat unwillingly. seungmin loved it. he loved the mess, he loved seeing you absolutely ruined for him.

when seungmin glanced back down at you, he noticed the way your fingers had snuck down into the waistband of your shorts, your back arched as you ground yourself against your own palm.

with a scoff, he pulled away from you.

“minnie-“ you chased the head of his dick with your lips. “more, more please,” you begged with a choked sob, too far out of your mind.

“did i tell you to touch yourself?” he scowled, gripping the back of your scalp to force your eyes to meet his above you.

you babbled out a mantra of weak apologies for disobeying the man in front of you. he glared down at you for a moment before he harshly released his grip on your hair, your head left spinning.

“you know what happens,” he sighed in mock disappointment. “open your mouth. good girl, look at you.”

seungmin’s thumb softly traced your open jaw, contrasting the way he forced his throbbing cock down your throat. you whimpered and gagged around his length, struggling to take him all in without the support of your fist. “fuuck, take it baby, shit.”

he set a brutal pace from the start, not letting your mouth adjust to the stretch of his full size before fucking your throat relentlessly. each thrust of his hips pulled a humiliating sound out of you, but it only egged him on further.

tears stung the corners your eyes, threatening to fall down your flushed cheeks from the pressure down your throat. if seungmin noticed, he didn’t seem to care much since his pace refused to slow down. gruff pants escaped seungmin’s lips, building up a sweat through his persistent thrusts.

“ahh, fuck, look at you, hnng,” he managed out, one hand tangling itself back into your hair and the other reaching out to a nearby shelf. it wasn’t until a bright flash broke you out of your fucked-out trance that you processed what was going on. under heavy eyes, you peeked up above you to be met with the back of his phone.

you whined out a sound of protest but couldn’t bring yourself to fight against him. the tears spilled down your face in utter humiliation as he recorded the scene below him: his thick cock shoved down your tight little mouth, your hair entangled between his fingers as he kept you set in place. you knew the camera would pick up the saliva that dripped down your chin, staining your white tank top with pools of drool as proof to what was happening.

the image of your ruined figure must’ve been so messy, so stimulating to the man above you because it only took a few seconds before he began to fall apart.

“jesus fucking- shit, you look so hot right now, holy fuck,” seungmin’s voice raised in pitch as he approached his orgasm. “you’re all mine. ‘m gonna cum now baby, you’re gonna take it? take it all for me?”

you couldn’t manage a response, so you flattened your tongue against his angry red tip and hummed a small noise that vibrated the length of his dick between your lips. he choked out a groan before he hit his high, shoving his cock as far as it could go down your throat as it throbbed with its release. his knees buckled as his seed painted the walls of your mouth, it’s salty tinge causing your throat to constrict and milk the rest of him. he muttered a mix of curses and soft praises under his breath as he came down, ending the video and slowly retracting himself from you. he slid down the wall he had been leaning against as he caught his breath.

once he sat in front of you, eyes closed and lightly exhaling, you let your upper body fall into his lap. the fingers that previously tore at your scalp gently weaved through the strands of your hair, allowing you to recover from the intense stimulation only moments before. you took deep breaths and let seungmin soothe your racing heart.

“shh,” he whispered, running his fingers down your shoulders. “you’re so good for me.”

seungmin was glad you had your eyes closed, because if they were open, you’d see how lovingly he stared down at you. you’d see the small smile that played on his lips as you steadily regained control of yourself. you’d see his mouth opening to say something, anything to fill the silence in the air, and maybe even finally ask if you felt the same way as him.

as bad as he wanted to, he couldn’t risk losing whatever relationship the two of you had going on now. so, he closed his lips, choosing to savor what he had of you.

besides, the more time that the two of you stayed in that closet meant the longer you could procrastinate facing the rest of the boys, who had been waiting for the two of you in the car so they could finally leave.

a/n: thank u for reading!!🤍🤍

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part ninety-four: "The Offer"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader Word Count: 2.7k

Summary: Karen, Marci, and you go shopping for the upcoming gala.

Or

Karen presents you with an interesting offer.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.] [FFTD Series Masterlist]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut, violence

a/n: So I split this part off of the gala smut installment that will be coming up next because I didn't want the smut to overshadow everything else. But hey, that means more installments! Also, tumblr is messing with my tag lists again so I apologize if they aren't working properly. Feedback is always appreciated!

Tag List: @ninacotte @mattkinsella @stilldreaming666 @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @linamarr @pinkratts @schneeflocky @acharliecoxedfan @yarrystyleeza @theetherealbloom @danzer8705 @lionalsowrites @harperdoodle @kmc1989 @lunaticgurly @mattmurdocks6thscaleapartment @pazii @kezibear @sleepysleepymom @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction @babygirlmurdock @theoraekenslover @wanda-maxamommy @justanerd1

Picking up a fairly simple shoe from the display shelf that had caught your eye, you warily examined the three inch heel on the back of it. You didn't want to get anything that looked too dangerous for you to walk in at the gala this weekend, afraid you'd only end up embarrassing Matt and yourself if you did. Walking in heels certainly wasn’t your strong suit and you weren’t about to pretend that it was just to look a certain way in order to fit in at the event. But while you stood there studying the shoe in your hands, turning it from side to side inspecting it, a bright gold heel appeared in your line of sight. Your eyes immediately widened at the stiletto heel next to the slightly more sensible shoe in your hand. 

“I hope you're showing me that as an option for yourself, Marc,” you said, glancing up at her beside you. “Because I would absolutely break my neck wearing those.”

Marci scoffed, rolling her eyes at you. “Oh please,” she replied. “You wouldn't break your neck in these.”

You shot her a pointed look, a brow arching up onto your forehead. Slowly you watched as her expression shifted to one of doubt and uncertainty, her eyes dropping back down to the heel in her hand. Eventually she let out a defeated sigh, the heel lowering back to her side.

“Okay, it's likely you might sprain your ankle in them,” she conceded. “But then Matt could just carry you around all night, right? Do you really mean to tell me you wouldn't want that?”

“I'd rather him carry me around under different, less embarrassing circumstances,” you told her. “Not because I bought six inch heels that are the width of a toothpick under the assumption that I could spend an evening walking in them. Because we all know I can’t.”

“Fine,” Marci relented.

She turned, walking away to put the shoe back on the display shelf from where she’d found it. Your attention returned to the black heel in your hands as you once more contemplated your ability to survive in them for an entire evening. They didn’t look too intimidating–especially after the heel Marci had just suggested. 

“What about these?” Karen asked.

Glancing over your shoulder at the sound of her voice, you focused on the deep red heels she was holding up in her hand. They were stunning, you had to admit it. The color wasn't anything too crazy bright so it wouldn't stand out horribly against the black dress you'd already bought earlier today. Plus, they were almost the exact same shade of red as Matt’s Daredevil suit, a detail you figured he'd probably enjoy even if he couldn't see them himself. 

“You don't have to get black shoes just because the dress you bought is black,” Karen pointed out. “And the heels on these don't look too scary do they?”

“No,” you answered slowly, setting down the shoe in your hand and turning towards her. “They don't.”

You stepped over to where she’d been standing, reaching a hand out and accepting the heel from her outstretched one before examining it closer. She was right, they truthfully didn't look all that intimidating in comparison to most of the other heels in this high end store. Certainly more manageable than the gold heel Marci had just suggested. 

“Ohh, I like those,” Marci said, appearing over your shoulder and eyeing the shoe. “Definitely not too plain. I prefer these over those black ones you were just looking at. Nothing wrong with adding a little bit of color.”

“Okay, then. You’ve both convinced me,” you told them. “I’ll see if they have a pair in my size.”

With the shoe in hand, you made your way over towards a rather bored looking sales associate and asked for your size. Briefly they disappeared into a back room, eventually returning a minute later with the nicest shoe box you'd ever seen in your life. Which probably meant the price on them was something absolutely absurd, but so was the budget Matt had more than graciously given you for your day of shopping today. Something you were still confused about him doing since his sole reasoning was just that he wanted you to enjoy your evening with him at the gala.

Thanking the store associate politely, you took the shoe box and headed back over to the row of chairs near where Karen and Marci were still shopping. But as you neared the pair of them you overheard the loud, almost dramatic sigh that Marci had released. Slowly lowering yourself down into one of the chairs, you raised a brow at her curiously.

“What was that about?” you asked her.

“I have been dying for someone to just bring it up all day–just to touch the topic even once –but no one has. So I guess I’m just going to do it myself,” she answered you. “Are we ever going to address the fact that you’re dating Frank?” 

Her eyes pointedly focused on Karen when she’d asked the question. Karen, who had been eyeing a pair of dark green heels, slowly began to set them back down as Marci’s perfect brows shot up onto her forehead questioningly. Without further pause Marci continued on, clearly determined to cover the topic of Karen’s new boyfriend. 

“Because I've been waiting all day for the opportunity to talk about it, especially with hearing Foggy tell me all week about the office arguments your love life has been causing,” Marci explained. “I figured when I took the day off of work and joined you both for this girl's shopping trip that we would be all over this topic today but no one has brought it up. Not even once. But I mean, you're dating that Frank. You don’t think we want the details? Like… why are you dating him?”

Your eyes flew over to Karen, watching as her shoulders dropped as if she'd been expecting this subject to be brought up at some point today. Truthfully you were a bit surprised no one had mentioned anything until now as well, but you figured Karen just didn't want to risk being lectured once again. You could only imagine how much she’d had to deal with that from Matt all week already. 

Silently you watched as Karen blew out a breath, turning on her heel and making her way over to take a seat in one of the cushioned armchairs beside you, her arms crossed over her chest as she moved. Marci hurried over after her and settled down into the chair on the other side of Karen. With rapt attention she rested her elbows on the armrest and leaned in towards her, clearly waiting for the details.

“Alright, we might as well get this over with,” Karen said flatly. “Yes, I am dating that Frank. No, he's not insane. He's actually incredibly sweet, protective, and has a big heart. And I didn't rush into things with him either, despite what Matt might try to tell you,” she continued, looking back at you and rolling her eyes a little. “There's been something there between us for years but Frank never wanted to explore anything more because he thought me being with him would put me in danger. But he also wasn't entirely at a point where he was ready to open up to someone else in that sort of way after…well…everything that had happened with his family.”

“So does he still…do that?” Marci asked carefully. “You know the uh…activities he’s been known for?”

Karen’s gaze dropped to her hands in her lap, her blonde hair curtaining her face a little. “Yeah, but not to that extent. Matt won't exactly let him–which is for the best, don’t get me wrong,” she added quickly. “But he's an ex-marine who'd been taught how to do exactly that from his time when he was in the military. I can’t exactly blame him for defaulting to what the government trained him to do, especially considering that the people who were on the receiving end honestly kind of deserved it for what they did to his family.”

Marci shifted in her seat, peering around Karen and focusing on you. One of her blonde brows arched up onto her forehead again. “And what're your thoughts on this?” she asked.

You shrugged lightly, both women now focused on you. The heels you'd been about to try on were currently forgotten on the floor by your feet with the conversation that had arisen. 

“I mean, we all know how Matt spends some of his evenings,” you answered her. “It’s not like he hasn't done his fair share of similar things to criminals in the name of keeping the city safe. In some ways it would be hypocritical of me to view Frank differently–even if he has, you know, crossed a line that Matt very much refuses to cross.”

“So you just…are indifferent about this?” Marci asked curiously.

“Not exactly, but I don’t really know the guy,” you replied. “I trust Karen’s judgment though. I’d like to think she wouldn’t date someone who truly wasn’t a good person at heart, even if it's difficult for the rest of us to understand. And if this is something that’s been developing slowly over the years, I have no idea what’s happened between the two of them. Plus, I doubt any of us saying anything based on what we know from the media about Frank would actually change her view, because I know that alone wouldn’t make me suddenly walk away from Matt.”

“Exactly,” Karen stated, shooting you a smile. “He’s not the man the media painted him to be. There’s vastly more depth and heart to him. And he’s saved my life multiple times now– and Matt’s recently.”

A bout of nerves unexpectedly broke free in your stomach, a cold fear steadily unfurling in your gut at her words. You knew Matt put himself in danger going out as Daredevil the nights he did, that was nothing new, but hearing that Frank had saved his life recently certainly had an effect on you. Were those two getting involved in something dangerous in the evenings now? Involved in something you knew nothing about? Because you hadn’t heard Matt mention anything specific to you before, though you’d noticed he’d been a little more on edge some nights when he returned home.

“Well,” Marci said, sitting back in her chair, “I guess I’m just glad Fog doesn’t put on some funny little suit and run around at night like your men do. I don’t think I’d be as calm about it if he did.” Her head turned towards Karen as she focused on her again, her eyes narrowing curiously. “Is Frank coming to the gala, by the way? As your date?”

Karen laughed loudly, shaking her head. “No, absolutely not. He wanted nothing to do with it to begin with, and I’m pretty sure Matt would have an aneurysm if he did show his face. He says it’s because of the firm’s image, but I know there’s more to it than that.”

“Guess I’ll have to meet him another time, then,” Marci said in defeat. She looked past Karen, gesturing a hand at the shoebox by your feet. “Are you going to try those on then?”

Remembering the box on the floor, you glanced back down at it, though your mind was truthfully still on the comment Karen had made about Frank having recently saved Matt’s life. That growing fear of yours about Matt finding himself in danger and you being absolutely useless to do anything to help him suddenly hit you hard. Chewing the inside of your cheek, you felt your mood sour as you bent over and removed the lid from off the shoebox. The satin sheen of the dark red heels glistened in the overhead light, but all you could see was Matt in his suit, his body lying motionless somewhere in an alley surrounded by a pool of blood. Your stomach lurched and you bit the inside of your cheek even harder.

Karen leaned over in her chair, gently placing a hand on your forearm. “Hey, are you alright?” she asked softly.

Shifting your attention towards her, you caught the look of concern etched across her features. Behind her, you’d noticed that Marci had already risen to her feet and returned to browsing the selection of heels. 

“Yeah,” you answered, your eyes returning to Karen. “It’s just…you mentioned Frank saving Matt’s life recently and it had me thinking about something again.”

Karen’s blue eyes narrowed back at you. “About what?” she asked curiously.

You sighed, once more ignoring the shoes in front of you before sitting back in the chair and focusing on her. “Do you ever feel like maybe you’re…helpless?” you began carefully. “I mean now that you’re dating Frank? Even though I know things are still new between you both.” Shaking your head, you quickly added, “I mean, I know he doesn’t have the same urge to run around like some sort of superhero that Matt often has, but I can’t help but worry that if he ever actually needed help–or was in trouble or something–that I couldn't do anything. I haven’t been able to shake this fear that I just…wouldn’t be able to help him, you know? Because I'm not like him. I can't do what he does. I can’t really do anything.”

Karen’s head tilted a little to the side, something contemplative reflecting in her eyes as she studied you in silence for a moment. You wondered if she was going to tell you that you were being ridiculous until she finally spoke.

“No, I’ve definitely felt helpless before,” she answered softly. “Even before dating Frank. And I’ve certainly had it cross my mind that being with him could land me in the middle of something dangerous. Unlike Matt, he doesn’t exactly hide who he is when he goes out and does his thing. But that’s actually why I’ve had him training me in some self-defense and–” she paused, her eyes darting over to Marci who was clearly still very ignorant of this entire conversation, “–taking me to a shooting range lately. To practice.”

Surprise washed over you at her words. So Frank had been training her? To fight and shoot guns?

“You know,” she continued slowly, her eyes still carefully studying you, “if you want, I could see if he’d be willing to teach you, too. If it would make you feel a little better, I mean. Make you feel a little safer or more capable or whatever. I’m sure Frank wouldn’t mind.”

A nervous laugh slipped out of your mouth before you immediately cut it off, shaking your head firmly at the mere suggestion. There was no way in hell Matt would ever be okay with you doing that. If anyone was going to teach you self-defense, it would be him. Though, he’d only taught you some very basic things before he’d stopped, saying that you didn’t need to learn anything further. Because he always claimed that he’d be there to keep you safe–a promise you knew he couldn’t realistically keep. And one that completely ignored your fear about keeping him safe.

“Yeah, I really don’t think Matt would like that,” you told her. “He’s afraid of me getting too close to Frank for some reason. Doesn’t want to risk me getting hurt or something, I’m not sure. But I know Frank teaching me how to tie my damn shoe would start a fight. Hell, me breathing the same air in the same room as Frank would probably start a fight between us. One I’m not sure I need to deal with.”

Karen shrugged lightly in response before rising up out of her chair. “He doesn’t exactly have to know,” she pointed out. “At least, not at first. It’s not like Frank and I can’t keep a secret if it would make you feel better. I can’t imagine Matt would be all that mad at you for learning how to take care of yourself a little more after it's already happened. But it’s entirely up to you. I’m just throwing the offer out there.”

Your gaze dropped down to the dark red heels before you. The image of Matt's lifeless and bloody body in his suit laying all alone in an alley returned to your mind. You winced at the mental image. 

“Thanks, Karen,” you replied, eyes still on the heels in the box. “I’ll uh, keep the offer in mind, I guess.”

[strangerxperv]

65. “you’re being particularly insufferable today”

Exasperated Dom/ Daddy Jim Hopper x loser perv sub/ little reader

Warnings: NSFW/ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, Age difference, degradation, you're a loser/ unkept/ chapped lips/ almost constant dehydration, curvy fem bodied, Jim is a Dom turned annoyed daddy, you're disgusting and full of lust, Jim secretly loves its, spitting, and breeding.

Daddy's Little Pervy Loser

You're not Jim's usual type and you've found peace in this knowledge. He likes you and hasn't broken up with your degenerate ass yet. Most people in this situation would try to bend over backwards. You?

You like to annoy Jim so he'll be mean to you. You love how it feels for him to make you feel small. The way Jim's big burly arms cage you in close.

Jim's cock stuffed down your throat forcing drool and precum to waterfall. Slip past your chapped split lips and drip off his full balls. His hands engulfing the sides of your face with his calloused thick fingers entangled in your hair.

But you loved it even more when Jim fucked you full of cum over and over, promising to knock you up. All the while his deep voice whispers words of twisted praise. The degrading look and tone fills you with satisfaction knowing you have brought him to sin.

Chief Jim Hopper a true and just man laying with a disgusting young perverted loser. You tempt him and he used to hate it. Jim thought he hated you and was even cruel. But that didn't deter you and instead it encouraged you to push harder, like it was a game.

So yes, your relationship is odd and most don't understand how it works. Jim isn't embarrassed by you or ashamed of the relationship. He does hate that you like to make people uncomfortable by jokingly calling him daddy.

He hates it even more feeling his dick twitch to life at the title you've given him, "Daddy!" Your goading bratty tone pulls all the right strings. Jim wants to make you scream it until your horse voice begs Daddy to forgive you. He wonders if you're aware of the effect that name has for the large man.

You must know to some extent based on your current behavior, "Mmm...I can't reach my cup! Can you pleeease help me, daddy?" It's obvious that you can reach the cup on the shelf completely in grasping distance.

Or when you bent over to grab the remote from under the couch. Your ass poking out from your skirt before you widened your stance. Ass up and back arched he sees your glistening petals, "Oooooh! My fingers can't reach it, daddy! I need your help!"

But worse yet you sitting on his lap bugging him during the game, "Don't you wanna play with me instead daddy?" And this time you feel him twitch, "I can catch you balls until it rains!"

Jim begins to shake from under you before his boisterous laugh echos around you, "You want me to fuck you? Till you squirt?!" It's humiliating that him laughing at your flirtatious offer makes you more desperate, "How you're dehydrated-" Jim's laughing so hard he can't breath and his face is getting red, "The only drinks you ever open your mouth for is daddy's spit or cum!"

You feel hot all over from embarrassment and excitement, "That's cause daddy tastes so much better than yucky water!" With that you open your mouth as wide as you can physically handle. Your tongue lolling out in a lewdly debauched display of submission.

"you’re being particularly insufferable today," He's not laughing anymore, "Only good girls get daddy's spit. You want it?" His hand grips your jaw forcing your face away, "Earn it and drink that big glass of water." To prove his point Jim spits onto your puffy cheek.

Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. You can't help but hump your ass onto his throbbing cock. It's so fucking mean you want more. Stumbling off his lap, Jim rights you, almost tripping over your own feet before gripping the large cup.

Gulp after gulp you're soon drenched and your shirt is soaked, clinging to your fat tits. Nipples are poking out at Jim and he barely takes notice of you gasping for breath. A few gulps more and the cup is empty so you toss it aside.

"Wow," it's sarcastic, "You're that much of a desperate fucking loser whose only thought is to get stuffed with cock-" a shake of his head, "You're willing to drench your shirt just to obey your daddy?"

A moan squeaks from your dripping lips while you wiggle in place. Your hands pull your skirt up to show your puffy cunt. The fabric bunched in your small hands, "Please, Please look at me!" Jim can't look away from your pussy squished between thick thighs, "I wan' you to fill my fuck hole full of your sticky cum. Wan' you to fuck me, daddy, I wan' feel your full balls slapping me!" One hand slips down as you spread your stance and then your lips, "My clit is so hard it hurts!" Your whine makes Jim clench his jaw.

"You're a degenerate pervert." Jim growls out as his glare watches slick drool from your hole. It only makes you more wet and serves to piss Jim off further, "I swear to God. You dumb fucking whore, do you know what You've done to me? How you seduced me and twisted me from a good man to one that craves you constantly?" He rises from his chair to tower over you, "I need to ruin you like you've ruined me."

[pvrkacciosan]

Leave it on for me.

A/n: this is entirely because I live for the helmet confidence of drivers and bikers on TikTok.

Synopsis: Curiosity never killed the cat

Pairing: Lando Norris X fem!reader

Warnings: Nsfw, unprotected sex among other things, don't read if underage!

Word count: 802

Everything was a burning, hot mess.

There was no need for explanation, nothing, no words expect his lips on you, all of you,

Lando pushed your hips into the wall behind you, holding your weight there, your hands shook with anticipation, an utter uncontrollable need.

Those hands, they were working their way, palming the flesh on your midsection, the pulse was growing stronger still,

Tilting your head, He pressed, Hot sloppy kisses, trailing up the column of your throat, the sensation shot through you with a dizzying pleasure.

You spy the shelves of helmet on display behind him, Each one having its place, the designs calling to you,

"Lando?" your own voice sounded breathy in the air, Lando didn't unattached himself from your body, he moved down to the protruding collar bone, teeth grating the skin, Shooting shivers skittering down you.

"I didn't realise you were so sensitive" his comment against your skin on your physical reaction to his touch, made you burn with desire like nothing you'd felt before, He pushed his hips into yours, you felt the brush of his erection against your core—

Eyes fluttering closed, gritted your teeth to focus enough, "Put one on."

His breath hitched against your throat, hands freezing. Lando lifted his head to meet your heated gaze, "What?"

You leant closer, pushing your chest against him, Rubbing you lips against the lobe of his ear, "Do you need me to whisper it in your ear?"

Lando's answer smirk made you ache, "You pose an appealing suggestion,"

You breathed softly next to his ear before leaning in, "I want you to fuck me with the helmet on."

Lando twisted back to seize your lips quickly, holding the kiss for a breath before he pulled away, turning to grab one, "Any to your particular liking, my love."

You twirled for the bed, Stripping of your clothes as you went, "Surprise me," you could hear him, pulling it from the shelf,

"You are breathtaking…" Lando caressed the curve of your shoulder, with your back to him you could feel his body heat. Hyperaware of every movement he made, Turning , knees nearly giving out at the sight of him shirtless, helmet on,

Wasting time was not an option, grabbing the underside of the helmet you dragged him closer to your body,

Turning you both around and pushed him onto the bed,

You climb on top, kneeling you hover above his hips. Lando's hands run up and down the apex of your thigh, you tugged down the hem on his sweats and boxer, allowing him to spring free.

Lando shudders between your thighs as the feintest of your touches, fingertips brushing his thighs, "Sensitive are we?"

"Stop teasing me so much."

Using your feet to hook and throw his cloths off the bed, you righted yourself above him, Even with the visor down, you could feel the heat of his stare burning your flesh.

Lining your core up, you eased down, allowing him to fill you up, it was a stretch, But he didn't move until you initiated it.

You began to set the rhythm, Lando's hands on your waist, learning the pace, when you started to roll out the letters of his name with your hips, Lando let out a strangled noise of pleasure, it was bliss to your ears, Until he flipped you both,

Lando braced his arms on either side of you, holding up the majority of his weight, he began to move, you cried out arching into the rhythm you had set. He copied it exactly, devouring every rippling sensation of warmth and pleasure.

You began to rock your hips up into meet his pace which began to quicken, your shared pants of breath, and moan mixing in the air, Lando flicked up the visor as it began to steam up, with your shared body heat,

Lando hooked an arm under your knee, raising it, The new angle had you biting back a moan, rolling your head back into the pillows.

"Come on my Love, Let me hear you."

His word awakened something in you, the coiling ball of pleasure growing stronger with each thrust, he drove deeper and deeper,

You clenched and when Lando's trembling breath eased from him you soaked up the noise, the sound making you dizzy,

Lando kept up the pace, the pleasure was peaking inside you, crying out Lando eased down to lay closer to you, the new angle was far better,

His low grunts filled ever last sense, until you both gave way to the pleasure with a shattering cry.

You could have stopped functioning then and there letting your release roll over you both,

From his expression when he collapsed beside you, swore he short circuited some how, the rapid rise and fall of his chest ignited your crave for more,

"Round two?"

"Yes," He rolled to hover above you, grabbing the gap opened by the visor you brought him closer, Lando swallowed hard.

"Leave it on for me?"

"Of course my love"

.

.

.

Taglist: @80sloverry @unofficial-journalist @celestialams @mirrorball-6 @love4lando @ironmaiden1313

[simstorian-blog]

Residential Floorplan Suggestions

New York City: TWO

(CC List + Links)

World Map: San Myshuno

Area: Spice Market – Waterside Warble

Lot Size:  30 x 30

Capacity:

A Dive Bar

An Internet Café

A Pizzeria

A Tattoo Parlor

Bonus: 6 residential rental units floorplans completed – not assigned

Gallery ID: Simstorian-ish

Packs Needed

Expansion Packs

Cats & Dogs

City Living

Discover University

For Rent

Get Together

Get To Work

Growing Together

High School Years

Horse Ranch

Snowy Escape

Game Packs

Dine Out

Dream Home Decorator

Jungle Adventure

Outdoor Retreat

Parenthood

Spa Day

Star Wars: Journey to Batuu

Strangerville

Vampires

Stuff Packs

Crystal Creations

Home chef Hustle

Laundry Day

Moschino

Kits

Castle Estate

Courtyard Oasis

Cozy Bistro

Desert Luxe

Recommended Gameplay Mods

(Please read through what each mod has to offer before deciding if it fits your gameplay style or not.)

Carl’s Dine Out Reloaded

City Vibes Lot Traits

Functional Tattoo Parlor

Functional Venue Lot Traits

Lock/Unlock Doors for Any Lot

Spawn Refresh

Use Residential Rentals shared areas as Community Lots & Create Multi-Purpose Community Lots

Build Mode

CharlyPancakes

Chalk Pt.2 (Tiles)

Felixandre

Chateau Pt. 1 (Stone Foundation)

Chateau Pt. 2 (Doors, Metal Pieces, Tiles, Walls)

Colonial Pt. 3 (Fence 2, Plaster Foundation 2, Railing 2)

Florence Pt. 1 (Fresco Mural)

Grove Pt. 4 (Plaster Column, Plaster Floor)

London Interior (Dining Chair, Stool, Walls)

Paris (Cartouche Large, Corbel, Swag)

Schwerin (Terracotta Female)

SOHO Pt. 2

SOHO Pt. 3

SOHO Pt. 4

Harrie

Brownstone Pt. 2 (Traditional Door Frame – Med, Traditional Door – Med, Traditional Window 2 - Med)

Coastal Pt. 2 (Column)

Klean Pt. 3 (Concrete Floor, Painted Walls)

Kwatei Pt. 1 (3x1 BiFold, Double Arch, Single Interior Door)

Mutske

Stairs Add-on

Lijoue

Louer Collection (Iron Fence, Railing, Stone Stairs)

Peacemaker

Bistro Expanded (Awning 1x1)

Graffiti Mural 01

Pierisim

Winter Garden Pt. 2 (Double Door High, High Window w Bottom x2)

Sooky88

Checkered Marble Floor

English Country Wall Set (Subway Tiles, Subway Tiles w Wallpaper)

Scandinavian Wall Set (Plain w Tiles)

Syboubou

Neighborly 1 (Ceiling Outdoor Light, Mailbox)

Neighborly 2 (Interphone)

Buy Mode

AroundTheSims4

Laundromat (Seating x3 – Metal Base)

Tattoo Parlor (First Aid Kits, Gloves, Ink, Ink Display, Light, Saddle Stool, Tattoo Gun)

Cepzid

Functional Tattoo Chair

Felixandre

Berlin Pt. 1 (Curtain – Tall)

SOHO Pt. 1

Harlix

Baysic (Coffee Table, container, End Table, Kitchen Cabinet, Kitchen Counter, Kitchen Island, Kitchen Sink, Kitchen Trolley, Kitchen Accent Counter 1-3, Sofa)

Jardane (Leather Pouffe)

Kichen (Cabinet, Cups, Glasses, Plant, Shelf)

Kichen 2.0 Pt. 2 (Glasses 2 & 4)

Harrie

Shop The Look 1 (Armchair, Coffee Table)

Shop The Look 2 (Ceramic Side Table)

Shop The Look 3 (Circular Cushion)

Spoons Pt. 2 (2 Tile Glass Pedastal- Short & Tall, Counters, Espresso Bar, Island, Pastry Platter, Pizza Board, Shelving)

Kiwisims4

Blockhouse Dining (Booth Seating)

KKB

The Chilling Home (Module Bar Stool)

LittlleDica

Greasy Foods (Napkins, Salt Shaker, Stalls Door, Stalls Wall, Vents, Wet Floor Sign)

Modern Kitchen Stuff (Soft Breeze)

Rise & Grind (Décor Mural 2, Décor Syrup Bottle, Décor Wall Painting Menu, Dining Tables – All, Wastebun Counter)

Max20

Happily Ever After (Sign of Attention)

NANDO

Fashion Store (Ceiling Lamp)

Pierisim

Coldbrew Coffee Shop Pt. 3 (Menu, Paper Cup, Tea Box, Tips Jar)

MCM Pt. 1 (Simstudio Display)

MCM Pt. 4 (Kitchen Island)

Ravasheen

Shake and Shimmy Dance Floor

Shop Chef (Drink Dispenser)

Severinka

Industrial Light II

Simkoos

Clutter Dump Pt. 2  (Boba Notepad, Boba Stacked Cups V1, Cafeteria Straw Dispenser)

SimspirationBuilds

Toffee Pt. 1 (Art)

Syboubou

Catherine Sushi Restaurant (Wall Shelf 1 & 3)

Contemporary Haven (Armchair, Artworks, End Table, Sofa 3P Left)

Macaron (Counter Display)

TaurusDesign

Lilith Chilling Area Pt. 1 (Bartender Kit, All Drinks, SulSul Sign)

Tuds

Cave (Panel Light 2 x 4)

IND 01

IND 03

Turn Couch

Wondymoon

Fraxinus AIO Computer (DL on Patreon)

DO NOT REUPLOAD MY LOTS.

DO NOT CLAIM THEM AS YOUR OWN.

DO NOT PLACE BEHIND A PAYWALL.

Tray Files: DOWNLOAD

[hometoursandotherstuff]

Here's a 2007 home in the middle of the Montrose, CO desert. Gee, it must be pitch dark here at night. I see only a few fixtures on the outside of the home. It looks like there's a garage that accommodates a truck or RV. 2bds, 3ba, 4.108 sq ft, $1.775m. Let's go inside.

In the entrance hall there's a large staircase straight ahead, surrounded by faux finished walls.

Open concept family room/kitchen. The family room is in the corner with a corner fireplace. The beamed ceiling runs throughout the home and there are large windows with a view of the terrace and desert in this main living area.

The kitchen and dining areas are very large.

Nice wood cabinetry and quartz counters. I like the arched pantry door. (We will see that I was wrong and it's not a pantry.)

There's a display shelf above the cabinet (dust collector). I like the arched ceiling over a staircase next to the kitchen.

Facing the family room.

The dining table. Oddly, there doesn't seem to be a formal dining room.

So, my "pantry" door opens to a very large TV room off the main area and it has French doors to the terrace, plus a big mural that I think is a tribute to the old Bird Cage Theater in Tombstone, AZ.

This is kind of nice, the way these room arches are staggered. The rooms look like dens and children's play rooms, etc.

And, here we have the very orange primary bedroom. It has a mini kitchen w/a large display niche above.

There's a multi-room en-suite. (Can you imagine how many gallons of gold paint they used on this interior?) Got 2 niches up there. You'd have to get a rolling ladder to dust this place.

The terrace around most of the home has a view of the vast desert. It has a 36.50 Acre lot.

Here we have an Astro Turf yard and patio w/a fountain.

https://www.zillow.com/homedetails/19754-Dave-Wood-Rd-Montrose-CO-81403/111204477_zpid/

[chvoswxtch]

Hi Court,

May I please have an Americano made by Aaron Hotchner based on this movie quote:

"In my opinion, the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you." —Juno

Thanks and Congrats!

juno is one of those movies I can rewatch a million times & never get tired of & I love this quote so much

thank you so much! enjoy!

blurb below the cut

order for aaron with a shot of juno

the best thing you can do is find someone who loves you for exactly what you are

Getting caught by your boss sobbing in a supply closet at seven-thirty in the morning was not on your agenda for today, or any other day for that matter, but when that door swung open, it was clear you were both caught by surprise. Hotch took one look at your red-rimmed eyes, and the semi-permanent frown he always wore melted into something a little softer, with a hint of awkwardness. Attempting to do damage control and not look like a complete basket case, you swiftly wiped at your eyes and cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater and cleared your throat.

“Sorry…I uh…allergies. Really bad this morning.”

Hotch arched one of his thick brows as he spoke in a dry tone.

“You do remember that I’m a profiler, right? Part of my job is to know when people are lying to me.”

Letting out a deep sigh, you gave a dismissive wave of your hand and leaned back against one of the shelves, crossing your arms over your chest while diverting your embarrassed gaze down to the floor.

“It’s…really not a big deal.”

“It is if it’s bothering you.”

It never failed to surprise you when Hotch displayed warmth and compassion considering you were used to his stoic and authoritative nature. Glancing down at the watch on his wrist just for a moment, he reached inside the supply closet to switch on the light before stepping inside, shutting the door and leaning back against the shelf opposite you.

“We’ve got ten minutes before briefing. Talk to me.”

“Hotch, it really isn’t-”

“Stop downplaying your feelings. You’re upset for a reason. What is it?”

The last thing you wanted to do was talk about your relationship problems with your boss, but you had to remind yourself that he was more than that. He was also your friend, who could potentially offer a logical and unbiased perspective, but at the very least, he was giving you a chance to vent. 

“Do you ever feel like…like no matter how hard you try in a relationship, you’re still going to get left?”

“Did you forget I’m divorced?”

There was a faint hint of humor in Hotch’s voice, and you noticed the slight quirk at the edge of his lips. Trying to suppress a smile, you were delightfully surprised when he offered you a small one and mirrored your stance of crossing his arms over his chest, nodding in your direction.

“Look, if you feel like you’re doing everything you can, then you can’t blame yourself for another person’s choices. Sometimes you give it your best, and it’s not enough. But that doesn’t make it your fault if it doesn’t work out. Effort goes both ways.”

Letting your head fall back against the shelf, you sighed deeply. Part of you knew Hotch was right, but another part of you still felt like there was something wrong with you, or something you just couldn’t get right. Meeting his gaze, a sad smile appeared on your lips.

“And what if my best is never enough?”

There was a pensive expression on Hotch’s face, and he was quiet for a minute. His head was slightly tilted to the side, a mannerism you’d learned meant he was really listening. Hotch still had his arms folded over his chest, and he gave a light shrug of his broad shoulders.

“If you want my opinion, the best thing you can do is find a person who loves you for exactly what you are. Good mood, bad mood, ugly, pretty, handsome, what have you. The right person will still think the sun shines out of your ass. That’s the kind of person that’s worth sticking with.”

A laugh tumbled from your lips suddenly at his raw sentiment, and Hotch seemed pleased with himself that he’d gotten you to smile. Glancing down at his watch again, he looked up at you with a more sympathetic gaze and offered you a light smile before reaching out with his right hand to give your shoulder a light squeeze.

“We’ve got two minutes. Take a second and gather yourself, and then meet us in the conference room when you’re ready.”

As he opened the door and stepped out, you called out his name.

“Hotch?”

Abruptly he paused, his hand still on the doorknob, turning to look at you inquisitively.

“Yeah?”

A gracious smile covered your lips as you nodded at him.

“Thank you.”

Hotch returned your nod with his own, a fleeting light smile crossing his lips.

“Anytime.”

[the-perverse-library]

Butt Staring - Tristan had found the copy of the game Lands of Luste in the library. He was gonna ask Sally if she had played it before, but seeing her putting the books on the lower shelf kinda distracted him.

@worldsoflustandwonder

Sally smirked as she felt someone's eyes land on her ass and stay there. She licked her lips as she arched her back and pushed her ass up and out, causing her denim shorts to groan as they tried to keep her fat ass contained.

"Well, ~hello~ there, darling; how can I help you today?" Sally flirtatiously asked as she blew a kiss to the dark-haired man shamelessly ogling her ass. "Oh~! Lands of Luste is my favourite. In fact, and I don't mean to brag, but I've even 1000% completed it." Sally purred as the store shivered, revealing posters and novelisations of her run-throughs of the game and some of the characters from the game. The biggest was a poster displaying a woman who looks nearly identical to Sally eating out a Desdemona on a pile of treasure, another was of a redheaded barbarian with a fat horsecock gaping and ruining Rubuzza's pussy, and even a picture of a fat-assed, redheaded rogue strapped to the underside of Brahna as she rides into battle.

"Y'know... we could go in the back and play it together if you really wanted." Sally offered Tristan as she finally, but slowly, got off of her knees.

[abiiors]

6. sundress - george x reader

a/n: this prompt is me furthering a personal agenda because i fucking love sundresses and living in a coastal city in a tropical country means i can wear them all year long hehe

cw: very suggestive, minors dni, brother's best friends (bbf!george)

it’s the flash of her thighs that sets his skin on fire. 

george has been watching her flitting around the backyard at the family barbecue—she’s at his house, for a change. matty’s here too and so are most of his other friends and his sister too for god’s sake but his eyes really haven’t left her for a moment. 

“i need a beer,” matty calls out to her and she glowers at him. 

“say please or go get your own.” she retorts and george snickers at matty, earning himself a smack on the head. not that he cares as much, it’s a treat to watch her be all feisty while wearing, perhaps, the softest thing he’s seen her wear all year. 

a white sundress with a sweetheart neckline. 

it barely reaches till the middle of her thighs, and every time she bends or jogs he catches flashes of her slightly tanned skin—skin he wishes were touching his own right now, her thighs around his middle or perhaps squeezing his head between them fuck—

“ugh please,” matty groans from next to him and the dream crumbles away. 

she rolls her eyes but says yes, and makes her way inside. 

“i need to piss,” george mumbles quickly and follows her. matty and his friends barely pay attention.

by the time he gets to the kitchen, she’s on her toes, trying to reach the bottle opener someone placed on the top shelf. he silently thanks whoever it was and leans against the wall, admiring the view—her dress riding up, flashes of her pink lace underwear, the curve of her ass. 

“i can feel you staring, you know?” she speaks, her back still to him. george smirks. 

“yeah? what will you do about it?” 

slowly she gets back down on her feet and turns, her back pressed against the counter, her mouth curved into a small inviting smile. his head spins, and george is sure it’s not the summer heat. 

she shrugs. “you’re the one who followed me inside… i didn’t come in here with an agenda.”

george walks up to her, stopping only when his body is almost pressed against her. the fabric of the sundress is soft. he can’t help but slide one of the straps down her shoulder and kiss the sun-warmed skin. 

she lets out a little giggle. “what are you doing?”

“kissing you, if that wasn’t obvious.”

she looks like she’s going to protest, but he doesn’t give her the chance to. he presses his hips into hers, grabbing her ass with one hand, and kisses her thoroughly when she gasps. she tastes like the peach ice tea he’d seen her drinking earlier—sweet and irresistible. 

“my brother is right outside.”

george groans, wrinkling his nose. “your brother is the last thing i want to think about right now.”

“he could walk in.”

“let him.”

“george!” 

as painstaking as it is, he pulls back. one look at her flushed face and pink lips and the resolve almost crumbles away. “you are… gorgeous in that dress.”

she laughs and leans closer to him until her mouth is right next to her ear, until her voice is a breathy whisper that takes over everything else in his brain. “i know,” she kisses the shell of his ear, “got it just for you.”

“you’ll kill me, sweetheart,” he almost moans, hands fisted into the hem of her dress till it’s barely covering her ass anymore. he wants to feel her, he wants to touch and kiss so so much more. 

“what if i make it up to you later?”

“oh yeah?” he raises and eyebrow, stealing another tiny kiss simply because he cannot resist it when she looks at him through her lashes like that. 

“the dress would look better on your floor, i think.”

and it would… he has visions of her on top of him, gorgeous suntanned skin on display and sweat rolling down her skin. he has vision of his face squeezed between her legs, her back arched and her fingers in his hair. 

fuck, he needs a cold shower before he go outside again…

and yet, george tsks. “i think it needs to stay on.”

“you love it that much?”

he nods, fixing the sleeve of her dress that he’d pulled down earlier. it goes against every instinct in his body, but he knows she has to go back out. 

“i do,” he kisses her fingers, her knuckles, the palm of her hand. “can’t wait to show you later just how much i do…”

and even though he lets her leave, george stays inside, praying his body to calm the fuck down and not make is so obvious. later, he thinks, can’t come soon enough.