#but that requires you to really love the taste of that dressing

[toughtink]

the trick to eating more salads really is just learning how to make them delicious to you specifically so you actually crave them instead of associatiating them mostly with the feeling of hunger because it's too few calories to help when you need food. the first step of this, btw, is mostly in filling it with stuff that ACTUALLY has calories so that your body is sated for longer while also better absorbing the nutrition from the low-cal, high-nutrient bits!

[incognit0slut]

Hi author, can you write one where soft Dom Spencer (our beloved) is needy after work and tries to distract reader while she's cooking?

Heat of the Moment

warnings/notes: I’m gonna be honest with you, I don’t have the energy to write smut but I will write the build-up scene to it. So suggestive content (MDNI) with a sprinkle of fluff and a whole lot of Spencer being horny. (This is also very self-indulgent because I fucking love mac and cheese, and if any of you hate cheese in general, I’m afraid we can’t be friends)

Cooking isn’t exactly your best skill. Just follow the recipe, they say, and you do, although following step-by-step instructions isn’t the same as having a natural knack for it. No matter how closely you measure the spices or time in the oven, something always seems a bit off. A little bit overcooked. A little bit burnt. But Spencer, bless your boyfriend’s heart, never complains.

“What smells so good?”

You look over your shoulder to see him strolling into the kitchen, still in his work clothes. Loose dress pants, rolled-up sleeves, top buttons undone. The tie you help him put on this morning is missing.

“You don’t always have to do that, you know?” You say as you turn back toward the stove. You stir the creamy, slightly lumpy mac and cheese, the thick sauce clinging to the pasta in a way that looks almost perfect, if not for the slightly scorched edges.

“Do what?”

“Pretend it’s amazing,” you reply with a sigh. “I know it’s not.”

You feel his presence behind you. “I’m not pretending.”

“You haven’t even tasted it yet.”

He peers over your shoulder. “I don’t need to. I trust you.”

“You trust me too much.”

“Just as much as you do,” he explains, placing his hands on your waist. “You trust me too, don’t you?”

“Trusting you to carry a gun isn’t the same as trusting your taste buds,” you reply, slightly leaning into him. Your back lands perfectly against his chest. “One requires skill, the other… a strong stomach.”

He gives your waist a gentle squeeze as his laughter fills the small space between you. You like his laugh, it’s warm and infectious. It makes you smile even though you’re feeling a bit self-conscious about your cooking.

“Well, I’ve survived both so far. So I think I’m doing pretty well.”

You stare at the pot, watching the mac and cheese bubble slightly. “What do you think the chances are of us getting food poisoning from this?”

Spencer gently pulls your hair out of the way, his fingers lightly brushing against your neck. He leans in and presses a soft kiss. “I’d say the chances are low,” he murmurs. “You're always too hard on yourself.”

You laugh softly, leaning back into him. “Maybe, but I just don’t want to mess this up.”

His hands start to wander, tracing gentle patterns on your waist before sliding around to your stomach. “You won’t mess it up,” he assures you. He lets his lips trail down your neck. “And even if you did, I wouldn’t mind.”

You feel a rush of warmth that has nothing to do with the stove. “Really?”

“It’s already good because you made it.”

You can feel his body pressing closer, his warmth enveloping as he lingers on the sensitive spot just below your ear. “Spencer, are you trying to distract me?”

You can practically feel the smile on your skin. He shakes his head, the slight roughness of his stubble brushing against your neck as he murmurs, “Not distracting, just appreciating.”

His denial is playful, his tone light, but his actions tell a different story. His hands continue their exploration, now slipping underneath your shirt. His palm is warm and slightly rough as it makes contact with your skin. He traces gentle patterns along your stomach, moving so slowly and as if he’s savoring every inch.

You feel your pulse quicken, each beat echoing in your ears. “Baby…”

“Hm?” he hums, and your breath catches when his thumb brushes just below your breasts.

“If you keep this up, there might not be any food for dinner.”

“Is that such a bad thing?”

You try to focus on the pot, where the sauce has begun to form a thicker layer at the bottom, slightly burned and sticking. But his touch makes it difficult to concentrate. "Unless you plan to feed us on kisses alone, I think we might need something more substantial too."

Spencer laughs softly, a low rumble of amusement that you can feel as much as hear. "I don’t know, kisses for dinner sounds pretty tempting."

"I’m afraid it won’t satisfy our hunger."

"I think it’ll satisfy mine just fine."

“Oh my god,” you gasp, catching on to the deeper meaning in his words. You tighten your grip on the wooden spoon as you resume your stirring. “Stop distracting me.”

If anything, he clings to you even more. He rests his chin on your shoulder as his hands travel down your stomach again, only this time, they linger at the hem of your shorts. His fingers play with the fabric, teasingly tugging at it.

“Spencer.”

“What?”

And then you feel it, the unmistakable pressure of his arousal pressing against your back. It’s a firm, urgent presence, a hard line that aligns tightly against your own curves. The hardness of it distracts you even further.

“You’re making it really hard to cook,” you murmur, trying to sound stern but the breathiness in your voice betrays your growing distraction.

He slips a hand inside the waistband of your shorts while the other trace along your stomach. “I think we should forget about cooking for a while.”

“You know we can’t do that,” you try to argue, even as your hips instinctively follow his touch. “We need to eat.”

“But we could be doing other things,” Spencer whispers, nipping gently at your earlobe. His teeth graze your skin lightly before his lips close around it, tugging softly. The sigh you let out is shaky and breathless. The idea is tempting, dangerously so. The persistent heat from his hand, now tracing idle circles on your underwear, isn’t helping your focus.

“Aren’t you—” your grip on the wooden spoon loosens when he slips a finger over the waistband. “Aren’t you the one who… always says how our bodies need… what was it again?”

Spencer nods. “The human body need about 2,000 calories a day to function properly. But,” he continues, slipping another finger in. “We also need affection and touch for our emotional well-being.”

You swallow hard. “What else do we need?”

“Pleasure. Lots of it.”

You don’t know whether you should be laughing or not. His boldness is both shocking and strangely amusing. Spencer isn't the type to be straightforward when it comes to sex, but when he is, it's always intense. He's clingy, he craves attention, and even when his cheeks flush with embarrassment, it doesn't stop him. It hasn't stopped him in the past, and it's not stopping him now.

Your mind scatters as he starts pressing himself harder, slightly grinding behind you. And when he adds another finger in, then followed by another until all of his five fingers dive into your underwear, you know you’re already too far gone. You let go of your grip on the wooden spoon before it clatters inside the pot, reaching down to hold his arm to stop him.

“Fine. Fine. You win.” You breathe out heavily as you gently pull his hand out. “We should at least turn off the stove first.”

He grins, pulling away to turn off the burner. “There. Now, where were we?”

You finally turn to face him, your hands finding their way to his shirt. You grip onto the material. “I think you were about to prove a point about pleasure.”

His response is a soft laugh before his lips meet yours. He’s gentle when he touches you. He always is. His hands slides around your waist, pulling you closer until there’s no space left between your bodies. You let your hand trail over his chest, up, up, up, until your fingers find the soft curls of his hair.

When he finally pulls away, he's smiling from ear to ear. "I think that's proof enough, don't you?"

You smile back, breathless and flushed. "Maybe," you reply, your fingers gently tugging at his hair. "But I might need a bit more convincing."

His grin widens, and he leans in again, his lips brushing against yours as he whispers, "I can do that."

You can feel his hands tightening around your waist as he begins to kiss you again, deeper this time. It's all teeth and tongue, raw and hungry. The forgotten dinner on the stove barely registers in your mind. But with his hands and lips distracting you, you find it hard to worry about anything else.

[esouliie]

that’s when i could finally breathe.

(wandanat x reader)

summary | you didn’t know having the best surgeons in the world as girlfriends usually meant being the loneliest person.

tags | hurt/comfort, poor mental health, hospital au, wanda is so gentle with reader, fic is inspired by taylor swift!!

Summer had always been your favourite season. The heat of the sun, the taste of ice cream melting on your tongue, and the sensation of warm sand beneath your feet—it was when you felt most alive. Your wardrobe was a testament to this: light dresses, miniskirts, and shorts that flattered your sun-kissed skin. But now, it had become your favourite for a different reason. It was summer when you first moved in with Natasha and Wanda. Their beach house was like that of a dream, larger than anything you’d ever lived in before. It stood tall and proud on the beachfront, its white shell-coloured walls and soft blue accents blending seamlessly with the surrounding environment. Inside, the house was open and airy, sunlight flooding in through the large windows, which offered an unobstructed view of the shimmering ocean. The seagulls' calls echoed in the distance, a constant reminder of the peaceful life you'd found here with your girlfriends.

You remembered how that first week had been pure bliss. The three of you had spent days "christening" each room, the laughter and love you shared echoing off the walls as you tangled in each other’s embrace. During the day, you would lounge together on the beach, Natasha daring you to swim out farther into the ocean while Wanda kept a watchful eye, her smile soft and affectionate. It was everything you’d ever dreamed of—a home filled with love, a future filled with endless possibilities.

But that summer felt like a lifetime ago.

The days passed in a blur, each one blending into the next. You went through the motions, but your mind was elsewhere, lost in a fog you couldn’t seem to shake. Natasha was out more often than not, her career as a cardiologist taking her away for long hours, sometimes even multiple days at a time. Up to becoming the next Head Chief of Surgery, she was a force of nature at work, tirelessly moving from one critical case to the next. Wanda, a neonatalogist, was around more often, but recently her presence was like a ghost in the house—she was always preoccupied, her thoughts wrapped around the delicate lives she fought to save every day. Her latest case being quadruplets with their own unique life threatening disorders that required assistance from doctors all over the hospital. You could see how exhausted she was, her eyes sunken beneath her glasses for when she’s been straining her eyes too much.

And you understood the importance of their work, you really did. They were saving lives, making a difference, and that was something you had always admired about them. But lately, admiration had been replaced with a growing emptiness that gnawed at you. The house felt colder, larger, and the silence between you three had become almost unbearable. Meals together were rare, but even when they did happen, you felt like you were dining alone. You sat at the table, picking at your food, barely tasting it, while Natasha and Wanda exchanged brief conversations about work—medical jargon that you used to find fascinating, but now only served to remind you how far apart you were growing. You wanted to speak, to tell them how you were feeling, but the words never seemed to come. Instead, you would just nod, smile when appropriate, and try to pretend everything was okay.

It wasn’t.

Tonight was supposed to be different, though. It was the night before your semester started again, and they had promised to be home early for dinner, with no work talk. You had spent the afternoon preparing a meal, something simple but special—your way of bringing back a piece of normalcy, a piece of the life you missed so much. As the clock ticked on and the evening slipped away, hope slowly faded. You sat at the dinner table, the food untouched, candles flickering softly. The silence was deafening. No texts, no calls—just empty chairs where Wanda and Natasha were supposed to be. You forced yourself to eat, each bite tasting like ash in your mouth. You kept glancing at the door, hoping to hear the familiar sound of their voices, the comforting click of the door unlocking. But the only sound was the distant crash of waves and the ticking of the clock on the wall.

By the time you realised they weren’t coming, tears were already blurring your vision. You cleaned up in a haze, your movements mechanical. You packed away the uneaten food for them when they come home, put the dishes in the sink, and blew out the candles, the scent of melted vanilla wax mingling with the salt of your tears. You didn’t even bother with dessert, your appetite gone along with the last shred of your hope for the night. This was it. Your relationship slipping away from underneath you. Heading to bed, you felt like a ghost drifting through the house. You crawled under the covers, curling up into yourself, the loneliness a cold weight on your chest. Sleep didn’t come easy, and when it did, it was restless, filled with dreams of empty spaces and silent room.

Weeks passed like this, with you becoming more and more of a shell. Your thoughts spiraled downward, a mixture of poor mental health, the overwhelming work load from school, and the crushing loneliness that came from being around the people you loved who seemed to be slipping away. They didn’t notice. Or maybe they did, but there was always something more pressing—an emergency at the hospital that had them leaving in the middle of movie night, or a case that couldn’t wait as they left you lonely at the dinner table. And so, you sank further into yourself, your once vibrant spirit now dulled by the weight of it all.

One afternoon, Wanda came home early – a rare occurrence that would have made you happy, once. She walked into the house, the usual tension in her shoulders softened by a rare quiet day at the hospital. She called out for you, her voice echoing through the silent rooms, but you didn’t respond. Maybe you were still at school she initially thought, but something tugged at her, an intuition she couldn’t ignore, and she followed it outside.

The sight of you on the beach, sitting alone with your knees pulled to your chest, caught her off guard. The waves lapped at the shore gently, a stark contrast to the storm raging inside you. You didn’t hear her approach; you were too lost in your thoughts, the tears streaming down your face as you sobbed freely, salt stinging as the wind whipped at your skin.

“Hey,” she whispered, kneeling beside you, her voice gentle but laced with concern. You looked up, startled, and quickly wiped your tears, but it was too late. She had already seen them, “why are you crying?”

You tried to find the words, but they were tangled in your throat. Wanda reached out, her hand cradling the back of your neck, before wiping away a stray tear you missed. That simple touch was enough to make you crumble. “I’m sorry,” you choked out, your voice breaking. “I can’t do this anymore.”

Wanda’s eyes softened, her usual composure cracking as she realised just how much she had missed. “Do what, honey?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Everything. All of it. I feel like I’m drowning, and I don’t know how to stop it. I know you and Nat are busy, I understand and I’m so proud of you both, but my head won’t stop telling me all these things, that you don’t love me anymore, and I’ve been so lonely, Wands- I miss you,” you hiccupped, “and Natty.”

You met her gaze finally, noticing the gloss of her own eyes as she holds back her tears. Her heart broke at your words, guilt washing over her like a tidal wave. She had been so consumed by her work, by the endless demands of her job, that she hadn’t seen what was happening right in front of her. She pulled you into her arms, holding you tightly as if trying to piece you back together.

“My baby,” she whispered into your hair, trembling as she kept her emotions at bay, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t notice you were hurting. I love you. So much.”

You wanted to tell her it was okay, that you understood, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just cried harder, the weight of all the loneliness, all the pain, finally spilling out. You clung to her, the warmth of her embrace a stark contrast to the cold emptiness you had been feeling for so long. “It’s not your fault,” you choked out, “I hid it from you guys because I didn’t want to be a burden. You both have so much going on, I didn’t want to add to that.”

Wanda shook her head, pulling back enough to look you in the eyes, delicate hands cupping your cheeks. “No, sweetheart, you’re never a burden. We’ve been so focused on work that we’ve neglected the most important thing to us —you. I promise you, this stops now, okay?”

You went to reply, a rebuttal already ready at the edge of your tongue, when Wanda’s phone rang. The sound cut through the moment like a knife, and she sighed, pressing a long kiss to your forehead, before pulling away out to check who was calling. Her eyes softened as she looked at the screen, showing you a picture of the three of you together. It was one of your favorites—a candid shot of you asleep with your head on Wanda’s lap, her fingers playing with your hair, while Natasha grinned at the camera, her arm wrapped around the both of you. “It’s Nat,” Wanda said, her voice gentle. She stood up, keeping one hand on your shoulder. “Stay right here, baby. I’m just gonna tell her she needs to come home, okay?”

You nodded, watching as she stepped away to take the call, her voice low and urgent. You could hear bits and pieces of her conversation—something about coming home right now, about how you needed them both. It made your heart ache, but in a different way this time. Wanda returned a few moments later, her expression determined. “Nat’s on her way,” she said, taking your hand and pulling you up to stand with her. “Let’s go inside, alright? We’ll wait for her together.” You let her lead you back inside, the warmth of her hand in yours a small comfort. As you sat down on the couch, Wanda wrapped an arm around you, holding you close. The two of you sat in silence, the only sound the distant crash of the waves and your favourite tv show low in the background.

That evening, when Natasha returned, the three of you sat together. She listened intently as you and Wanda explained what had been happening, her eyes filled with regret as she realised how distant she had become. How she could’ve been a better girlfriend to you. She reached out, taking both your hand and Wanda’s, her grip firm and reassuring. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you, my love.” Natasha said, her voice raw and broken, “I promise to do better by you. I love you. We’ll figure this out together. I don’t want you to ever feel like you’re alone in this. We’re a team, remember?” Wanda squeezed your hand, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheek, before she said, “We’ll always be a team.”

And they meant it. The following weeks, they took time off from work, dedicating their days to you, to each other. It wasn’t a magic fix, the path to healing rarely is, but it was a start. You spent your days together, and when you weren’t in classes, you were rediscovering the small joys that had once been the foundation of your relationship. Walks on the beach, movie nights curled up on the couch, late-night talks that stretched into the early hours of the morning, slow kisses under the stars as you undressed each other, declaring your love to one another once again.

At night, you lay in bed between them, their arms wrapped around you, the weight on your chest finally began to lift, the crushing pressure easing as you drifted off. The path ahead was still uncertain; you knew there would be hard days, especially as they were soon to return to work, but for the first time in weeks, you felt like you could breathe again. And upon your girlfriend’s chest, you realised you didn’t have to carry the burden alone, because they were here with you.

You weren’t alone anymore, and that made all the difference.

[motomamita]

singledad!eddie × pregnant!female!reader

warnings: smut, +18, mentions of breast milk, breeding kink, no condom, pregnant sex!

Part. 1

Upon hearing the news of your positive test, Eddie was eager and happy to be able to share this new stage with you. However, his happiness faded when you met him at your trailer one afternoon to talk.

Distraught and with Lily playing at your feet, you told him that while you were delighted to take care of Lily, you still didn't feel ready to raise a child of your own. You were too young and Lily already required too much time and energy that you didn't know if you would be able to give to another baby. Eddie lowered his head, watching as Lily played with the laces of your sneakers as she babbled 'mom' at you. Sad but accepting your decision, he lifted his daughter in his arms and began to talk to her, explaining the situation.

"Don't be sad, my little flower. Your little brother or sister won't be able to come this time, but I assure you that soon you will have one to play with..." Eddie spoke sweetly to Lily and, as if she understood his words, pouted and sob.

Obviously that broke your heart. So much so that in the end you surrendered to him and decided to continue with your pregnancy.

You moved into Eddie's trailer, so you could take care of Lily more comfortably and little by little you would accommodate the space to receive the new baby. Gradually you began to adapt to life there, and to be with both of them almost 24/7. Eddie left for work in the morning and returned a little before dinner. Some days he would pick you up and would go to the mall to buy things necessary for your pregnancy.

Eddie was delighted and even seemed to enjoy the purchases more than you. He loved choosing your maternity dresses, your braziers and even the most comfortable underwear for you. While you were inside the dressing room, he stayed with Lily outside the room while he softly sang her a lullaby. Every time you came out to show off how your clothes fit, he would whistle at you flirtatiously and Lily would applaud awkwardly.

Inevitably you managed to fall in love with him. He was too attentive, loving and understanding with you and Lily. He enjoyed accompanying you to the doctor, listening carefully to every word he said and asking a lot of questions about how to cope better with the pregnancy. Sometimes after work he brought with him magazines with advice for the first pregnancy and several classical music albums, because according to him: 'scientists say that the baby can be smarter if he listens to Beethoven or Mozart!'. True or not, the reality is that he did everything possible to keep his family happy.

As the months passed, your belly increased in size and you experienced several signs and symptoms. Your feet began to hurt and so did the desire for strange food combinations. Eddie knew it and for that same reason on the weekends he took full care of Lily so you could rest. He would place your feet in warm water and massage them while he told you the list of names he had been making. He also made sure to leave the cupboard and refrigerator full of candy and other possible foods that you might want such as ice cream, cookies, chips, gummies and even pickles.

As for sex, it had never really stopped. What's more, his desire for you seemed to have increased as the weeks passed, taking advantage of every opportunity he had to make you his. Despite having a little girl in home, Eddie was quite creative when it came to getting between your legs. You could wake up in the middle of the night with his cock inside your pussy, his hands on your sensitive nipples and hot breath in your ear. Or during a quick shower, he would sneak between the curtains, helping you soap your back and taking the opportunity to kiss every sensitive part of your skin. Otherwise, far from the gaze of Lily who was playing in the living room, he would put his face under your dress to taste the juices of your pussy.

That Friday everything was as usual. Lily, who had barely begun to walk, played with holding on to the couch while moving her body from one side to the other to the rhythm of Beethoven. You gave the final details to the table and looked from time to time at the lasagna that was cooking in the oven. The sound of Eddie's truck's engine alerted you both that he was already there. Lily gave a little scream, anticipating her father's arrival.

"Daddy's home!" Eddie announced himself, informing the house. You received it with a small smile, letting Lily be the first to receive it. Seeing him, she began to walk clumsily into the arms of her father, who hugged her tightly. "Good job, Lily!" He smiled, picking her up in his arms and approaching you. "How did my girls behave?" He asked, giving you a sweet kiss on the lips and touching your belly tenderly. "And this little one? Can't wait to get out? Mm?"

"The food is ready." you announced, wiping your hands on your apron.

Eddie took Lily to the bathroom to wash her hands, telling the little girl about his day at work as if she understood something. Once at the table, you began to eat while the music played. You and Eddie helped the little girl eat her food, wiping her mouth every time she spit out a bit of it.

When he finished, Eddie took care of cleaning her and taking her to her crib to sleep. For your part, you picked up the dishes and were about to wash up when you felt Eddie's hands on your belly.

"Leave it, I'll wash them later. The food was delicious, so you deserve to rest, mommy." He speak and then kiss your cheek. You didn't object and left things to go sit with him on the couch. "How do you feel?" He asked, caressing your thighs and letting his rings make your skin crawl.

"Okay, a little tired. As Lily starts walking alone I should have been more careful that she doesn't set the house on fire." you joked, remembering the childrens prank she was slowly starting to get up to. "I missed you." You murmured, somewhat embarrassed by how much you needed him.

"Yeah? How much?" Eddie asked with a mischievous smile on his face, squeezing your thighs slightly.

"So, so much.." Eddie growled, knowing the tone of voice you used when you needed more than a kiss or hug.

Eddie approached and joined his lips with yours in a loud, wet kiss. He brought one of his hands to the back of your neck, grabbing some of your hair while his other hand moved up your thigh to your center.

"Poor mommy, spending so many hours here with my baby..." he murmured, separating himself a little. "Alone and without anyone who can satisfy and fill that sweet, tight pussy.." he massage your pussy over your underwear.

"You're bad, very bad for always leaving me wanting more..." you complain and then moans when he found your clit lightly pinched by him.

"I know, my queen, I know... but now I'm here..." Eddie pulled her hair a little, making you moan. "I'm all yours, use me however you want."

It was a matter of minutes before you found yourself on top of Eddie, naked, riding his big cock. Your swollen breasts bounced with each sit on his hard cock, leaving such an exciting sight for Eddie who watched you with his hands behind his head.

"Come on, mommy. Milk this cock." His words did nothing but encourage you to move your hips faster and making the clash of skin echo through the room. "Fuuck, that's right.. Use me, use me.." Eddie closed his eyes, moaning at the way your pussy rode his cock with ease.

You placed your hands on his chest, digging your nails and trying to stabilize yourself, making his cock go even deeper in you in that new position.

"God.. Look at your tits, they are so big.. And heavy.." Eddie brought his hands to her breasts, making circles on her erect nipples and pressing them lightly in the hope that milk would come out of them. "I promise you that as soon as your sweet milk starts coming out of here, I will be the first to taste it.." you moaned when you heard it. "Uh? You like that? Would you like to breastfeed me?" You bit your lower lip, nodding madly and still moving.

Just thinking about it made Eddie even more horny. He brought his hands to your waist, carefully pulling you towards him to begin penetrating you hard. His hips rose and fell quickly, hitting his pubis against your clit and rubbing your tits against his beefy chest.

"I'm going to fill you with my cum again and again..." he moaned as his balls slapped against part of your ass. "Tell me...Who did this to you? Uh? Who put a baby inside you?" He asked, looking lustfully into your eyes while one of his hands caressed your belly.

"You- It was you.." you managed to say with a broken voice, completely overstimulated. Eddie smiled proudly at your words, changing his thrusts for slower but deeper ones.

"That's right, mommy.. You're so good that your fertile womb took my semen the first time.. Good girl." You moaned at his compliments, feeling your orgasm approaching. "Are you going to cum? Mmh?" He asked sweetly, caressing your face as you nodded your head. "Come on, cum for me..." those words were enough for seconds later his cock was wet with your sweet nectar.

Eddie took care of cleaning you, covering you with a blanket and placing you on his chest. Your head was spinning, dazed and in some sort of subspace. He noticed it, caressed your hair and let him slowly put you back together while you listened to his heartbeat.

"Hey, I have to show you something." He spoke to you after a few minutes. You raised your head to look at him, Eddie reached into one of the pockets of his jacket and pulled out a small box. "Remember what I told you the first time..." he stretched out his words, referring to the time he fucked you on that same couch. "What did I tell you?"

You thought for a few seconds before answering. "That you would make me a baby." You responded confidently and Eddie laughed when he heard you. "And that you would make me your wife" You added, remembering the situation even more.

"Very good.." he smiled at you and brought the small box to your hands. "Well, I think it's time to make it official..." you slowly opened the box and found a beautiful ring inside. "Will you marry me?"

[itsonlydana]

Heyy I just wanted to ask if you could write something for Thranduil x gn!reader just something really light and fluffy maybe like how he takes care of reader what they do in a day and just spending time together doing romantic things and reader really just enjoying life without a care in the world... (Deine Fanfictions sind soooo super ❤️Ich stecke grade sowas von in der Prüfungsphase es ist echt Gold wert wenn man deine Stories zu Lesen hat🤌🏻 )

Spoil Me, Pamper Me, Love Me | hobbit

pairing: Thranduil x gn!reader 👑

a cozy day spent with Thranduil

warnings/tags: none, fluff!

words: 1,4k

an: such a lovely request; had such a fun time writing it :) take the elvish terms of endearment with a grain of salt.. i literally googled them lmao but i made sure to use gender neutral names. [Ich wünsche dir viel Erfolg bei deinen Prüfungen, anon! Ich hatte meine im Februar und hoffe du kommst da gut durch <3]

+ masterlist + rules +

🌿 reposts and comments are appreciated, they motivate me a lot and keep me writing <3

Being Thranduil's beloved comes with positives as well as negatives – he is a king, a leader after all, and most of his waking hours are dedicated to keeping up his political alliances.

This spanned from week-long travels to other kingdoms to meetings that could last long enough for most of the day to pass without seeing each other much.

Many of these affairs do not require personal attendance though and only expect Thranduil to correspond through letters; a convenience you both treasured admits all the dragging conferences at round tables that were more draining the less importance of the topic to be discussed – even a royal elitist like Thranduil, who took great pleasure in all things rich and extraordinary drew the line after twelve hours of staring at two types of wood to repair a bridge.

Paperwork days – as you called them – were the perfect opportunity for lazy mornings between you and Thranduil. Drowsily cuddling underneath silken sheets that caught the sunrise in their translucent fabric, shutting out the world for unhurried fooling around in each other's arms and with only your giggles and his huffed laughter carrying any indication you were awake at all.

Breakfast was served in your shared chambers and instead of getting up and dressed you took the small feast in bed, unbothered by the missed chit-chat and gossip that eating in the great hall brought forth for Thranduil's kisses are much sweeter than anything anyone could have done.

There is nothing the Elvenking wouldn't do for his significant other, including providing you with the ripest fruits to feed you only to lose himself in peppering kisses to your lips – chasing after the taste of the fruits that colored your lips red and pink.

"The sweetest," Thranduil mumbles, his lips moving from one upturned corner of your mouth over the bow of your lip to the other corner where he breathes another kiss into the crinkle of amusement that makes no effort of hiding across your whole face.

You are sprawled across the bed, still in an airy night robe that's pushed up to your thighs to leave room for Thranduil's hands to gently caress the skin.

The elf himself towers over you, the comfortable weight of his lean yet strong body pressing down on you as his hair falls over the both of you like a curtain of starlight. Your hands trail over his muscles as kisses the spot behind your ear that has you giggling and nudging your knee against his abdomen to push him away.

"Stop, my King–" you laughed, hands sprawled across his chest without any real strength behind them, "you know I can't stand this teasing!"

You feel the pull of his grin against your skin before you hear the rumble of his deep laugh. "I do, meleth e-guilen, I do," Thranduil says, and tipped his nose against yours, "but that makes it all the more tempting."

Your hands trail up to his shoulders and gather some of the light strands of hair, sweeping it over his back. His skin glows in the sun pouring through the window, thrumming under your touch, and with him draped over you, one warm leg between yours, the heat travels to you even if his broad back blocks out the golden light.

"Awful," you huff, "you are nothing but a dreadful lover, keeping me trapped here in bed." Like your hands on his chest, the words carry no harm behind them or any attempt to push him away from you.

If anything, you revel in the attention he peppers you with. The last weeks had dragged you apart and moments like this, where you had to think about nothing except for your lover's care toward you.

"Awful?" he repeats in a playful tone and makes a move to sit up. "Whatever did I do to deserve such harsh treatment?"

Instead, he quickly grabs you by your waist and before you can realize what's going on he has flipped you over, laughter bubbling up your lungs and spilling out while he falls back onto the mattress, pulling you with him and leaving you to topple over across him.

His fingers dig into your sides, holding you down onto him so you can't even escape the tickling that he dooms you with. "Awful, they say! I will show you dreadful, you minx."

Whenever you do make it out of bed eventually, hair all messed up by his hands, Thranduil insists on dressing you.

He treats you like you are made out of glass, warming up the milky creme in his hands before he massages it into your skin so that the chill doesn't bother you, and he sits behind you on the bed while he combs through your hair.

"Looks like thrush nested here," Thranduil chuckles. He barely evades the hand you swipe back at him as you snort indignantly. "Careful! You will scare the birds if you are not mindful of them"

The curse you throw at him instead has him gasping at the pure filth that leaves your mouth that, after hearing his reaction, curves into a smirk. "Get back to combing, Your Majesty. I do not have all day."

"Your word is my command, guren vell."

Thranduils lips kiss your neck, featherlight and then again, lingering. You sigh and let your head drop backward, falling to his shoulder, and blink up at him through lowered lashes, your eyes full of adoration.

His smile lights up a fire in your heart, the softness of it on marble features a reason to go to war just to see it again and for you to be the only recipient of this gentleness with which he wraps his arms around your middle, the hair comb long forgotten, that fuels the fire for all eternity.

On any other day, the duty to dress you would lay in the hands of your most trusted servants or your own, though nothing reached the level of wonderful that Thranduil made you feel right now, helping you to flowy robes.

For you, he even sinks to his knees, the only being alive that deserves this honor of the Elvenking kneeling in front of them, and you smile down at the crown in his hair, the silver circlet glittering just like his cerulean eyes in the midday sun, as he fixes your shoes for you but not without breathing more kisses on the inside of your calf which he carefully holds.

"Shall we walk through the gardens later?" Thranduils hand falls to your lower back on your way through the intricate floors of the underground palace, evoking a pleasant buzz in your stomach.

"We could go riding out," you muse, thinking back to the last time you and Thranduil had taken out the royal elk.

Thranduil steps closer, ignorant of the servants and elves rushing past you with lowered heads and bows, to nip at the curve of your pointed ear.

For everyone else, it looked like he had just kissed you, but his teeth grazed the delicate skin in a hidden manner.

That's how the public display of his utter devotion to you goes; loving kisses that – away from prying eyes – turn completely devoid of etiquette, as well as his hands that never seem to leave you, whether it's in the form of a simple pressure in your lower back or resting on your side to hold you close to him.

Thranduil did not need to put you on display for everyone to know you were his, the expression in his eyes told the story of a King completely in love in a way that didn't need flashy gems or luxuriant robes; not that those weren't gifts you regularly found yourself unpacking nevertheless.

"Whatever you wish for. My heart is your loyal servant," Thranduil vows, smiling at the bright-eyed expression you gift him at that.

The letters on his desk could wait for a day longer, he had all of eternity to manage his kingdom.

Thranduil spends the rest of the day tied to your side – or behind you on our royal moose, as you take him outside to the forest, Thranduils arms around your waist and his chin propped up on your head, as you let yourself fall into his chest. In these woods, with your beloved's sharp senses taking in all of your surroundings even while he busies himself with twirling the fabric of your robes between his fingers or drops kisses to your shoulder and neck, you are completely safe.

©itsonlydana 2024, character art by MiracleAna on Devianart

[telvess]

RoR: How they seek attention (Poseidon, Loki, Heracles) 🔞

You, gals and guys, gave me such positive feedback under the previous post with this theme, so I decided to write part II

Poseidon

Poseidon with his I’m perfect, I don’t need anyone mindset is a bit tricky, so you have to be especially attentive, because if you miss the opportunity, you will have to wait until the next time.

If you spot a horny Poseidon, you still need to say or do something to trigger him. He requires it, because his pride holds him back.

You were minding your own business in the library, looking for an interesting book that you hadn’t read yet, when suddenly you felt a chill run down your spine. You froze for a split second, before going back to looking at the book covers as if nothing had happened. You smiled to yourself as you heard the sound of the floor creaking, and then a shadow fell on the bookcase in front of you. — Were you looking for me? — you asked, flipping through a random book. You weren’t interested in reading anymore. You just knew why Poseidon approached you, he basically pierced you right through with his blue eyes. There was a silent expectation hidden in this gesture. — I may have been… — he said, indifferently. Poseidon stood too close to you to ignore. But when you looked at him over your shoulder, he didn’t say a single word. — Do you find this book interesting? — you asked, showing him the cover. — No — you heard. You couldn’t help but giggle. You put the book down and picked up another one, but this time you cocked your head slightly so that your bare neck was in Poseidon’s sight. No reaction. — You know… when I show you my neck like that, it means I want you to kiss it — you advised, still feigning interest in the book. — Oh? — finally something changed in his voice, your provocation worked — Such shamelessness, unworthy of a goddess. You snorted. — Say whatever you want, but you have to admit: it’s a very good neck, even for a goddess. He would never deny that. After all, he was the one who chose you to be his wife. You’re the one who stands by his side, as an equal. You were perfect. To deny this is to deny himself. You felt his cool fingers on your neck, slowly heading towards a clasp that was holding your dress together. Once that was undone, Poseidon removed the straps from your shoulders and watched as they slipped and stopped on your bent hands. Your cheeks got warm at that bold act. Poseidon’s hands touched your waist - causing you to held your breath - as they moved around it, invading the space beneath the fabric of the dress and reached your navel. Your body trembled with excitement, your husband chuckled right next to your ear. Your eyes met. — It seems that every part of your body is perfect — he said, calmly, but you saw in his eyes that he was eager for much more. — Even my mouth? — you loved to provoke him. The corners of his lips twitched and his fingers tightened at your skin. — I can keep that occupied — he assured. Poseidon leaned towards you, his lips felt so soft - such a contrast to his personality - and it always surprised you. The book fell from your hands, and as your hands fell alongside your body, the dress ended up on the floor. You slowly tasted his lips, feeling the tension build in your naked body as Poseidon’s hands caressed every part of it.

Loki

Loki would announce very loud how bored he is, it doesn’t matter if you’re busy or it’s middle of the night. His priority is himself. And „boredom” is the secret code for „let’s do stuff”.

He always appears out of the blue and because he is the biggest trickster in the universe, it’s really hard to take his demands seriously.

How delightful was your bed; cozy and warm… You couldn’t keep your eyes open. There was darkness and sweet silence around you. Then… why were you awake again? You frowned and forced yourself to raise your head. Something tickled your forehead. — What the-! — you screamed, looking up. — Hello! — said Loki, loosely levitating above you. He presented you his naughty smile that you barely saw in the dark. His face was so close to yours that his hair were touching your forehead. — W-what are you doing here! It’s the middle of the night! — you shouted at him. Loki sighed and rolled his eyes, as if you were the unbearable one here. — I’m bored… — he mumbled. — Uh, you always are! — you sat up straight — Besides… did you try, I don’t know, sleep? — Booooriiiiing! — he yelled and laid down next to you. His face was better visible in the faint light coming through the curtains now. — I was thinking… — he laid eyes on your body hidden under the blanket — maybe you could entertain me? Something had awakened in your body. You always have to be careful with Loki, because every gesture or word could be a trap or at best have a hidden meaning, so now you looked at his pretty eyes with a dose of suspicion, but… well, what eyes could tell you? — How exactly? — you placed your hands on the blanket. — I’ll tell you. First take that… — he pointed at your pyjamas — … off. At first you didn’t even process his words, then you took it as a joke, but Loki’s expression didn’t lighten up, he didn’t burst into laughter, he remained serious, so you finally understood the situation you found yourself in. And… You snorted. — Very romantic — you said, covering your lips in a sudden bout of shyness. Loki raised his eyebrows, but his lips didn’t even twitch, which - for some damn reason - you found hot. — Oh, come on! We both know you want me. Enough of the stupid games already — he pouted.

You hoped it was too dark for him to notice your red cheeks. Truth to be told, he was right, but how did he find out? You never let your guard down around him. And what’s more important - now you two were alone, in bed, and you basically had him in the palm on your hand.

— Pff, you aren’t my type — you found yourself saying. Such an opportunity could never happen again and yet you decided to play hard to get… In the name of your stupid pride? Great move. Your body went limp once you realized what you had just done. — It’s not a problem — you heard, but didn’t react to Loki’s voice. You were focused too much on your self-flagellation — What’s your type, girl? — you jumped in fright when you heard Thor’s voice. How did he come into your ro-… oh. When you finally noticed Thor’s massive body next to yourself, you understood what Loki was doing. Such a wide smile on Thor’s usually indifferent face seemed strange to you, almost unnatural. You burst into laughter and hid under a blanket. — How about this one? — asked Loki with his new, much deeper and scarier voice — Girl? — chills ran down your spine as you recognized who your companion was imitating. You peeked out from under the covers and saw terrifying figure of Odin next to you, who was just casually curling his hair with his finger. — Eww! Go back to yourself! — you commanded. Fake Odin gave you one last hateful glare and disappeared in purple puff of smoke. — That’s better — you rolled onto your side and so did Loki. You smiled to him and without any warning or permission, you grabbed his head and pulled him towards you. And you finally had them, these damn lips of his that always could find a way to annoys you, pissed you off or make you laugh. They tasted good, or perhaps that was the taste of success you had just accomplished. Whichever it was, you wanted so much more: your lips kissed his with a passion, greedily, as if you had gone amok. But Loki wouldn’t be himself if he let the good times last long. He moved away. Compared to you who was eager and ready like never before, Loki seemed concerned at best. That cooled the fire in your chest a little. — Na-ah — Loki wagged his finger at you — Do as I say. First - take that off — he commanded. At this point your protruding nipples made you feel uncomfortable, the fabric of pyjamas almost caused pain - you wanted nothing more than to obey his order - but you found just enough strength for one last comeback: — Do it yourself.

Heracles

Poor Herc, he doesn’t know how to tell you this, he’s too pure, so he’s stuck in an awkward situation. Prepare yourself to feel his eyes on you many times throughout the day to the point that someone has to pat him on the head to make him come to his senses.

At the end of the day, when you two are alone, Heracles MAY be a bit more direct - after all, man is at his limits - especially if you’re oblivious.

You sat at dressing table, untangling your braid and slowly getting ready for bed. The sound of the doors opening brought a smile to your face - Heracles had returned from his duties. — Hi — you said, seeing him in the reflection of the mirror. He smiled back — How was your day? You watched as he took off his archery chest protector and began to unbuckle belt of shoulder’s guard. He sighed. — Long — he admitted. That was unusual for Heracles to show any sign of tiredness. For as long as you could remember, he has always been full of vigour: it didn’t matter at how deep end he was thrown, he still managed to finish a task anyway. — How so? I thought you couldn’t wait to take care of the training soldiers… — Well, I couldn’t concentrate — Heracles admitted. Only then did you realize that his eyes still hadn't met yours. You frowned; something clearly was wrong. — Why? What kept you occupied? You had very poor control over your emotions, so the worry in your voice was very clear. Heracles froze for a moment as if he contemplated whether telling you the truth was a good option. — Well… you — you heard. You blinked a few times, confused. — Me? — you repeated. How it could be you? You wanted to ask but then you noticed Heracles’ cheeks turning red and understanding came to you on its own. You giggled when your man turned his back to you in a fit of embarrassment. — Oh… — you hugged him from behind. He was such a big man, yet so pure in the heart. You raised your head to see how red his ears were and giggled again. — Very funny — you heard his growl. — How are you more afraid to ask me that than face Ares and all his troops together is beyond me! You forced him to turn around. — I wasn’t… afraid, I j-just… I, well… ugh! — Heracles — you interrupted his babbling and forced him to look into your eyes. You pointed to your lips — Kiss me. He was much taller than you, even if you stood on tiptoe, so he had to led towards you. And he fulfilled your wish. Your lips met in a short, shy kiss. It always amazed you how someone that strong could be so gentle. That was one of many reasons you adored him so much. You smiled at him and grabbed his hand. — Now come — you pulled him to the bed — Sit down. Heracles’ eyes followed your hands as you massaged his wide chest, your fingers were caressing his sculpted muscles when you sat on his lap. You heard his heavy breathing and felt bulge that was growing between his legs. The air in the room became warmer as you two started kissing. Slowly at first, but soon you started losing yourself in to the passion and heat of the moment. You found yourself moaning into Heracles’ mouth when he suddenly grabbed your buttock and squeezed, and you had to break the kiss to catch a breath. There was no longer any shyness in Heracles’ eyes.

[ozzgin]

Yandere! Akatsuki Headcanons: Halloween with their Darling

Featuring the Akatsuki and how they would spend Halloween with a Darling that loves the spooky season!

Itachi

Itachi is rather introverted and doesn't like parties or loud events. He could, of course, put on a smile and interact with anyone if it was for your sake, but he will be looking forward to being alone with you once again. Plainly put, he has no interest in other people.

He finds your excitement cute and might suggest that you spend a quiet evening in the graveyard, feeding the ravens and discussing horror movies and literature. It's peaceful, comforting and fitting. Oh, he just loves hearing your voice.

Truly, what could be more romantic than debating ghoulish matters among the dead and decayed? For Itachi it is a statement in itself, that your love prevails over everything. Perhaps even foreshadowing, if anyone ever dares to interfere.

Kisame

Kisame will be happy to comply with any proposal as long as you're by his side. That's really the only requirement for his successful Halloween. If you prefer larger events, he will dutifully keep suitors away and allow you to mingle with your friends. Otherwise a cozy evening indoors will suffice.

Now listen, when it comes to horror movies I’m sure the first thought is usually Jaws. But I had this picture in my head: watching Silent Hill with Kisame and getting him to dress up as Pyramid Head. If there’s a costume party happening, he’ll be right behind you in that bloodied up apron and great knife dragging along.

In fact, you could even go for a matching costume, such as Bubble Head Nurse. Kisame takes his role very seriously, so naturally once you’re alone he might just do what Pyramid Head does. You can tell he’s been looking forward to it once his imposing gloved hand is around your throat, grip tightening in anticipation.

Sasori

Sasori will be against any social event, so you better not pester him with any of those annoying Halloween parties. He does not care for it and he finds it an utter waste of time that could be spent with you instead. Why do you need the company of others?

If you must celebrate in some way, he’d much rather compromise on some quiet, cultural activity. Perhaps some museum exhibition, or a candlelight organ concert in a church. Even better, a horror movie at home so he doesn’t have to worry about perverts eyeing you.

I like to think he’d enjoy Tim Burton movies. They’re artsy and tasteful and a lot of the recurring themes might pique his interest. You’ll finish watching Edward Scissorhands and notice he’s been thoughtfully gazing at you for some time. Is anything wrong? Not really. He’d just been pondering that you won’t be allowed to grow old. He’ll make sure of it.

Deidara

Deidara is a thrill seeker and will absolutely share your enthusiasm for Halloween. Costume parties, haunted houses, amusement parks, you name it. He loves a good scare and might even compile an elaborate list of activities to make sure you have the best time. Truth be told, seeing you enjoying yourself might be the actual highlight.

He won’t mind, however, if you’d prefer a less intense evening. There’s plenty of things to do away from the crowd, such as pumpkin carving. He’ll do his best to impress you with his artistic skills, presenting highly elaborate carvings, often depicting your favorite things. He lives to entertain you.

If he thinks about it, this is a perfect opportunity to prove to you that really no one else compares. His love for you is unmatched. And as he likes to say, the holiday isn’t complete until it ends with a bang ;) (Had to make the joke)

Kakuzu

Ugh. Kakuzu just dreads the upcoming holidays. It’s all puerile, commercial quackery and he does his best to ignore the nonsense. Or he used to, at the very least. As much as it irritates him, your disappointed expression might be even more unbearable. He does have a soft spot for you, after all.

So fine, go ahead. Do your silly little Halloween shenanigans. As long as he doesn’t have to deal with other people. It’s really just the best for everyone involved. You wouldn’t want some poor soul complimenting your outfit to immediately meet their demise at the hands of your intimidating boyfriend. His patience might be thin, but when it comes to you it’s basically nonexistent.

Ideally it’ll be just you and him. Graveyards, horror movies, haunted houses, pumpkin patches, whatever your little heard desires. If he’s in a good mood, he might even be willing to don a matching costume.

Hidan

Given Hidan’s beliefs, he’s not very impressed by some pagan invention, although he does enjoy the activities that come with it. It’s his guilty pleasure. Especially because he gets to see you all dressed up.

That might just be the main reason, really. You. He loves seeing your excitement and would do anything to entertain it. He enjoys social events where he can show you off, but doing things alone as a couple is also perfectly fine. Okay, if he’s entirely honest, he would very much like to parade you around as his.

All the gore and the terror really gets him into the mood. By the end of the day he’ll be a starved man, and you can be sure that once he gets his hands on you it will be a bloody, scratching, biting mess. He’s probably the type to suggest you do it in a graveyard for the thrills.

Pein

Pein pretends not to care, but he is very much aware your favorite holiday is approaching. He’ll prepare weeks in advance to make sure he won’t have any paperwork or surprise missions. The day will be entirely dedicated to you.

He will either quietly follow you around to whatever plans you’ve made, like a loyal dog, or will conjure his own activities in case you didn’t expect too much productivity to be possible. Oh, the things he’ll do for your sake. Anything for a glimpse of that genuine smile.

You’re quite amused by the fact that Pein retains his serious expression no matter what jumpscares come your way. Impressed, you can’t help but ask him: “Is there even anything that frightens you?” And he won’t have to contemplate an answer for long. Naturally the thought of losing you. All the other artificial horrors pale in comparison. But you needn’t worry, he will never, ever allow it to happen.

Konan

Konan is only mildly excited about Halloween, but she will never say no to spending time with you. Additionally, it comes with the opportunity of doing arts and crafts as a way to relax. Forget buying decorations, she’ll be crafting the most exquisite garlands and ornaments you’ve ever laid eyes on.

She prefers to keep to herself. If you desire to attend a social gathering, she won’t downright refuse, but she’ll maintain her distance from the crowd and count the hours until you’re alone and together.

I feel like she would treat it as a spooky Valentine’s Day. She’ll show up with an elaborate gothic bouquet of flowers and a card quoting your favorite horror book or movie. “I have crossed oceans of time to find you”, as she lovingly once read in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. You’re her very own undying romance.

Tobi

You might think you’re excited for Halloween, but it quickly fades when compared to Tobi’s enthusiasm. Before you can even mention it to him, he will present you with a full itinerary of things to do together. He has been counting the days, constantly daydreaming of having all the fun in the world with you.

Similarly childish is his possessiveness. You find his little bouts of jealousy when you’re among other people terribly cute, as he pouts and tries to drag you away, reminding you dramatically that he’s your Halloween date. Only him.

Although you’re taken aback by his abrupt change of tone, when at some point during the night the silly threats turn into a deep, jarring voice demanding your undivided attention. Surprised? It’s a holiday of frights, after all. Perhaps he’ll show you how scary he can be if he wants to.

[aemondsbabe]

Arbor Gold

summary: sharing a drink & toys || rhaenyra treats you to a very special night out

pairing: modern!rhaenyra x f!reader

warnings: mature/explicit, 18+ (minors dni!), no use of y/n, afab reader, wlw, public, fingering, use of a toy, vibrators, mentions of alcohol, mommy kink, sub!reader, allusions to oral, let me know if i missed anything!

word count: 1.9k

a/n: happy day three of 12 days of smuff!! i was sweating writing this one, i can't lie lmao

12 days of smuff masterlist!

gif creds to @gameofthronesdaily!

likes, comments, & reblogs are very appreciated but never required!

🌟add yourself to my taglist to be notified when i post new fics!

“Oh, that’s perfect,” Rhaenyra says to the waiter, watching with a smile as he finishes pouring two glasses of wine with a fancy flourish before setting the bottle on the table, “Thank you.” 

With a polite nod, the waiter takes his leave, leaving you and your girlfriend alone once more. Your eyes scan the room once again, taking in the fancy dark wood paneling on the walls and the way the vintage crystal chandeliers sparkled as they cast a low, moody light over the room; the soft instrumental music coupled with the dull hum of other couples and groups of friends sharing quiet conversations comforted you despite the circumstances. 

Finally, you let your eyes sweep over Rhaenyra and your lips instantly curved into a soft, sweet smile as you took her in, watching as she took a sip of the decadent Arbor Gold wine. This whole little adventure had been her idea – something fun and new to do, she’d said. 

And she doesn’t disappoint, you think with a slight shiver as you shift a bit in the plush booth, the small vibrator she’d taken oh-so much care to work into you earlier presses deliciously against that small, sensitive patch within you. 

“Everything alright, sweetling?” Rhaenyra asks, finally catching your eyes from where you’d been absentmindedly staring at the flickering tea candle on the table. 

You smile and take her hand as she presses in closer to you, your bare shoulders nearly touching. You can’t help but admire her dress, a mirror copy of yours in every way aside from the color – the dark, blood red silk contrasts so beautifully against her soft, pale skin while the dim lights of the small bar dance off of the black silk of your own dress in smooth, pearlescent waves. 

“I’m fine, Nyra,” you can’t help but reassure her with a soft smile as you poke your tongue out to wet your lips before pressing a gentle kiss to the back of her hand, “Just wondering when exactly you plan to start the show.” You tease, nodding to her phone. 

“Now where would the fun be in revealing all my tricks?” She gives as good as she gets, her eyes gleaming as she looks you over appreciatively. She takes another sip of the wine, taking the time to swirl it around in her glass before delicately pressing her lips to the rim. You can’t help but bite your lip as she closes her eyes with a pleased hum. “Have you had any of yours yet? You really need to try it, my love, it’s absolutely decadent.”

You reach across the table and grab your glass, swirling the pale yellow-gold liquid around in the same way Rhaenyra did before taking a sip, sighing happily as you taste all manner of sweet, fruity notes. 

You go to look at her with raised brows, about to compliment the expensive vintage as well, when she discreetly taps the screen of her phone. You only manage to get a soft, barely there squeak out as the vibrator comes to life inside you and buzzes softly against the most tender spot within you before Rhaenyra quickly leans over and presses her lips against yours, muffling the noise. 

You sigh gratefully against her lips as your eyes flutter shut, one of your hands squeezes at her thigh, and you’re grateful that each table is adorned with a long tablecloth as your hips seem to buck up by themselves for a second. 

She pulls away after a moment, once she can sense that you’ve calmed down some, and fixes you with a pleased grin before pressing one last, soft kiss against your shoulder. “That good already?” She teases, lifting her glass to her lips to take another sip of wine, “And to think, we’re only on the first level.”

You shiver, knuckles white as your fingers dig into the dark fabric of your dress, your hands pressed tightly against the tops of your thighs as you try and keep your hips still as Rhaenyra taps her phone screen, giggling as she turns the vibrations up a level. 

Your skin is flushed, though you aren’t sure if it’s from the wine or from the incessant vibrations within you. You throw Rhaenyra another helpless glance, your fingers digging into her plush thigh as a warning that your peak is approaching. 

She merely huffs out a soft laugh next to you and reaches out to tuck a lock of your hair back behind your ear before cupping your cheek, her pale eyes dancing over your face as she admires the blush that’s bloomed across your skin. 

“Oh, pretty little thing,” she coos softly, smirking when she notices your lower lip trembling as you desperately try and bite back the moans threatening to spill from your lips, “Are you getting closer, my love?”

You nod as your walls clench desperately around the toy, the movement only serving to press it even more firmly against your sweet spot. You bite down on your bottom lip, your nails no doubt leaving small crescent moon marks against Rhaenyra’s delicate skin, as you try to control your breathing. 

Just as you’re about to whisper that you can’t take much more, the waiter reappears, walking up to your table with a polite smile. You nearly cry as Rhaenyra quickly turns off the toy, although you can’t say whether it’s from relief or frustration from being so, so close. 

“Is everything to your liking, ladies?” He asks, his gaze lingering on you for a second as he looks between the two of you.

“Everything is perfect.” Rhaenyra answers with a cool smile, casually taking a sip of wine. 

“Wonderful, and is there anything else I can do for you all this evening?”

“I think we’re good over here,” she says, smirking as she spares you a glance, “Just bring the check when you get a moment, please. No rush, though.”

“Of course, ma’am.” The waiter says with a polite nod before taking his leave. 

As soon as he’s gone, Rhaenyra presses herself close to you and you almost whine when you feel her breasts press against the side of your arm, her nipples hard and aching against the thin fabric of her dress. A chill goes through you at the realization that she’s enjoying this just as much as you are. 

“That was going to be a big one, wasn’t it, sweetling?” She murmurs softly, one of her warm hands skimming across your bare thigh as she tucks it under your dress. 

“Nyra, please,” you all but gasp, trembling next to her as your center aches, your walls squeezing helplessly at the toy, “Please…” You’re not even really sure what you’re asking for as you beg, your mind covered in a thick fog. 

“Mmm,” she sighs, relishing the way you squirm in her hold as she skirts her hand higher and higher up your thigh, until the edge of her fingers are just barely pressing against the center of your thin lace underwear, “I don’t think it’s Nyra tonight, my little darling.” She says with a soft shake of her head, a few strands of her silvery hair falling beautifully against her cleavage. 

“Mommy,” you correct yourself with a choked whimper, eyes glassy as you peer up at her, “Please, please.” 

“Please what?” She asks, the condescending edge to her voice making your head spin, “Please take you home? Please make you come?” She prompts, eyebrows raised slightly as she smirks. 

“I –,” you choke out, nearly jumping out of your skin when she turns the vibrator back on, not bothering to ease you into it as it buzzes away at a high speed, “F-Fuck.” You hiss, your body already tensing as the knot in your belly winds itself up at an alarming rate. 

“I think you want to come,” she says lowly, nodding her own head as if to answer the question for you, “Luckily for you, mommy’s in such a giving mood tonight.” She studies your face carefully as she pushes your underwear to the side, her eyes positively sparkling once she feels how wet you are. 

You bite your lip harshly, nearly drawing blood, as she begins rubbing circles over your aching bud, not bothering to warm you up as she normally does as her soft fingers press harshly against you. Your head spins as she works you up and up and up, your high building at nearly the same pace as the vibrations within you as she slowly increases the speed of the toy. 

Before you’ve even had a chance to process the sensations flowing through your body, your head snaps to her and your eyes are wide as you look at her desperately, soft squeaks sounding from your throat. She merely looks at you expectantly – she may be in a giving mood but that didn’t mean she had to make the getting easy. 

“M–,” You barely choke out the first syllable before your eyes squeeze shut, your core already starting to flutter around the small toy, “M-Mommy, mommy!” You urgently whisper, finally finding your voice before gritting your teeth, your breath catching in your throat just as you feel the very beginnings of a familiar tightening overtaking your belly. 

“Let mommy have it, sweetling,” Rhaenyra coos, not stopping the movements of her fingers as she feels your bud twitch against her fingers. She murmurs soft praises into your ear as your high washes over you, talking you through it as your hips squirm against the lush fabric of the booth. “That’s a very good girl. Is that such a big one, darling? You did so, so good for me, sweetling.”

Her soft praises nearly send you over the edge again, but thankfully she decides to spare you and turns off the vibrator before slowly extracting her hand from your underwear, taking a second to make sure to move them back into place for you, the small gesture making your heart skip a beat. 

She laughs softly next to you, the sound making you open your eyes and you nearly moan at the sight of her dipping a finger, still shining from where she’d touched you, into the half-full cup of wine in front of her. She takes a second to swirl it around before bringing it to her lips, her eyes gleaming as she sucks at the digit; the sight alone is enough to make your tender walls clamp down on the toy but the small, satisfied moan she makes just about sends you spiraling over the edge yet again. 

“That’s definitely my new favorite pairing.” She teases, smirking at the wide-eyed look on your face. 

“Nyra!” You laugh, your heart racing in your chest as you feel the butterflies in your tummy stir yet again while the two of you dissolve into flirtatious giggles. 

Just then, the waiter appears with the check, which Rhaenyra quickly scans over before passing her credit card to him. She turns to you as soon as he disappears around a corner, the coy look in her eyes making you feel flush all over again.

“I can’t wait to get you home, sweetling,” she sighs softly and presses a kiss against the curve of your neck before polishing off the last bit of wine in her cup, “Mommy is absolutely dying for something sweet for dessert…” She teases, raking her hand back up your thigh.

A giving mood, indeed.

tagged lovelies: @helloworldiamnotarobot @drakonflames @marysucks-blog @watercolorskyy @valeskafics @iamaegontargaryenwife0 @aemshaircare @1997babyyyy @lovellies @little-moonbeam-666 @blackswxnn @alerisc

(tags are based on your answers to my google form; if you were mistakenly tagged, please contact me & update your answers on the form! thank you!)

[kisseobie]

could you do what o6 ideal girl is??💗 love your posts btw!!

p1harmony and their ideal girl

pairings: ot6 p1harmony x reader

warnings: none

a/n: ofc u can and thank u :] by the way, i didn’t specify any race, nationality, or ethnicity because as a woc myself i find it strange when people act like we’re a rare desire and only certain idols would be romantically attracted to someone who isn’t korean or east asian lol

✴︎ keeho

most p1eces would probably agree that kyo would naturally be attracted to a girl who exudes confidence in herself, but isn’t arrogant and simply knows her worth without making it everyones business. keeho, although a sweetheart that would be incredible at helping you fight your insecurities (which everyone has!), wouldn’t want to be someones personal life coach at every moment. craves a girl who has an independent lifestyle, loves to let loose once in a while, and isn’t intimidated by having an equally confident partner. being as naturally funny as him isn’t a requirement in my opinion (he of course wants to be the comedian of the relationship), and i actually think he would prefer someone with a personality like jiung’s, someone passionate, maybe a bit reserved, and focused on themselves! he would also loveeeee a girl who dresses nice and can do makeup well, shows skin sometimes and has her nails done a lot.. i think femininity would be really attractive to kyo <3

✴︎ theo

i think taeyang is looking for someone who can match his energy well, be a source of comfort for him when he’s particularly stressed/exhausted, and is confident in her own morality. he seems like the type of boy to be interested in a girl who sees the world in a deeper way than most care to, someone who can teach him life lessons and make him a better version of himself. very attracted to femininity as well, especially when it comes to silhouettes. a big fan of slip dresses and such! i think theo would also really like someone who’s a bit more emotionally mature than he is, and makes him feel like the youngest for once, because he often does feel the weight of being the oldest in his group. despite seeking maturity, he still wants his girlfriend to have a similar sense of humor. wants to have lots of laughs within his relationship!

✴︎ jiung

the most likely member to fall for a lovely lady who mirrors his own personality! jiung is the epitome of hard work and passion, and i really do think he would seek out the same qualities in a lover. not a big fan of someone who would constantly need to be coddled, i think along with keeho, he is really attracted to independence and wants a partner that can handle balance between love and work! needs someone who knows that although his love for you is unwavering, there are other responsibilities and priorities that will often take up his time. i can see jiung swooning for a girl who is very kindhearted and soft spoken <3 being the one in the group who isn’t too fond of physical contact, any girl that shows her love with words of affirmation and acts of service is a winner of his heart! is obsessed with the idea of receiving hand-written poems of love from his girl, and also secretly likes a bit of a height difference, whereas i think the rest of the members wouldn’t really care abt that hehe

✴︎ intak

tak would loveee a confident girl who almost plays into the “hard to get” trope, as cliche as it sounds. he’s a big baby but is also the type to let intrigue walk him like a dog, therefore he’s probably the only member that would “chase” a girl until she finally opens her heart to him (and she eventually would, because honestly, who can resist him?). i think he’s the one who i would say has a combined tastes of all of the members. he’s very sensitive despite his light hearted nature, so i think he would value someone who can be in tune with his emotions and doesn’t shame him for it (kind of like soulie!). i think he would also really enjoy a fashionable gal who matches his own aesthetic, very slick with dark color palettes and silver jewelry! i think some canker sore girls might roll their eyes at this but i honestly think he would really be attracted to someone who models or does some type of work in the fashion world, not for superficial reasons, but because he enjoys that sorta thing!

✴︎ soul

i don’t think that shota has too specific of a preference for personality types, and it doesn’t really make a difference to him if you’re incredibly outgoing or very shy. he honestly just wants a partner that can silently understand him in a way most people can’t, someone who isn’t judgmental and just perceives who he is as something normal, something lovable. as long as that mutual understanding and trust is present, he’s not the picky type, in terms of personality, looks, style, hobbies, etc..! if he had to choose though, i think he’d want to be with someone who can bring him out of his shell when needed, not forcibly of course, but someone with just a general confident and friendly aura would inspire him to attempt to match your energy. (this is obviously very keeho inspired, since soul has always mentioned how comfortable he is with him, i think he would fit really well and be very happy with a girl who has similar vibes as kyo!). but like i said, the only thing that really matters to him is mutual understanding :3

✴︎ jongseob

for seob, since he really enjoys a lot of side hobbies such as photography and skating, i think his main attraction would be towards a gal with a consistent hobby, definitely more on the artsy side! like keeho, i think he would also be really attracted to someone who enjoys fashion and isn’t afraid to dress how she wants to! not too adamant on his lover having a set style, actually really appreciates someone who tries out different styles and surprises him everyday with a new look! would prefer to date a girl who isn’t camera shy, as photography is one of his favorite things and he would obviously want his girl to be his muse and personal model <333 doesn’t like being babied and treated like a kid, so an age gap (2 years or more) isn’t really in his line of sight .. would rather date a girl in the same grade as him or born in the same year!!! i think he’d also be the type to really enjoy banter in a relationship, that type of dynamic is really fun to him :DD

taglist: @woozixo @hearts4chanhee @kyokopi @astro-doll-the-star @soobiary @kyaaramello @t3ssamoodboard @angelcbf @idontknow-1s-world @vivienne-sim @elissasimp @imjustayapper @ihatewreckingballmains @sosaverse @seobing @www90kitsch @khfviq @barbiekh86t @bbyjjunie @taeyangi @fullsunstrawberry @jihnyah @intheemptymirror @watamotee33 @dreamer1299 @jixnnsie @wonootnoot @yukx-x047 @sundancearchives @chuuswifereal @seisyiss @fishsquishh @sunnyyangie

© kisseobie, please do not repost my writing!

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[rottenpumpkin13]

How do you think ASGZ and the Turks+ Rufus would dress if they were ordinary people living in the real world? (My personal guilty pleasure head cannon is Sephiroth loving leather jackets and V-necks… imagine him in all black, leather jacket, dog tag, some bracelets, black jeans and combat boots… ahem sorry it’s late at night and my thoughts are going weird places)

Sephiroth's go-to outfit: All-black and minimalist is his go-to style, so he does like leather jackets, long coats, and black pants. He wears v-necks sometimes, but prefers button-ups so he can alter how constrictive his shirt is (not the case when he's at home because this man lives for comfortable clothes).

Angeal: I told you this event required you to wear a shirt.

Sephiroth, wearing a button-up that's only fastened at the bottom last button, leaving his whole chest exposed: What's wrong with my shirt?

Angeal: WHAT SHIRT?

Genesis' go-to outfit: Red leather jacket (he has so many of them), a button up/turtle kneck, and knee-high boots. All designer. He accessorizes with jewelry (all gold) such as necklaces, bangles and tons of rings.

Angeal's go-to outfit: sleeveless tee, jeans, boots, and a flannel he either commits to wearing or ties around his waist. All thrifted. Bonus points if the top is DIY'd or tie dye. He's a compulsive tie dyer.

*Zack leaves one of his white shirts out and walks away*

Angeal: Hm.

*Zack comes back and his shirt is tie dye*

Zack, alarmed: MAGIC

Zack's go-to outfit: A fitted tee, baggy pants, fingerless gloves and combat boots. He wears his dog tag as an accessory and hates jackets unless he can roll the sleeves really high.

Zack: I'm ready to go!

Angeal: You cannot wear that shirt out. Go change.

Zack, wearing a shirt that reads "DYSLEXIC WITH TICE NITS": Man, why you gotta be so judgemental?

Sephiroth, still wearing his chest out: Genesis claims he is allergic to good taste.

Angeal: I'm leaving you two at home.

Rufus' go-to outfit: It's a designer suit or nothing; preferably white and pristine, preferably custom-made. He's also likes to wear a kimono and hakama sometimes.

Reno's go-to outfit: A leather jacket, gloves, a button up that's either red or white, gold chain, and jeans, and combat boots.

Rude's go-to outfit: A leather jacket (him and Reno are matching), gloves, wearing all black, usually a button up since he's not a fan of t-shirts, and dress shoes. He likes to accessorize with chains.

Tseng's go-to outfit: No one has ever seen Tseng wear anything other than a suit. Work? suit. Party? suit. Beach? suit. Reno nearly died on the spot the day he and Rude ran into Tseng at the local coffee shop and he was wearing a t-shirt beneath his blazer, no tie, and a silver chain.

Reno: WHO ARE YOU? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH TSENG? Tseng: Why are you and rude wearing matching couple's t-shirts?

[fawnlotties]

being charlotte matthew’s assistant…

you were forever grateful that charlotte had decided to take pity upon a broke college student and hire you as her assistant. you were skeptical of her ‘intentional community’ at first, but charlotte was the furthest thing from a demanding boss. being able to sit in a homely office with guaranteed hot meals and a gorgeous older woman to check in on you constantly - how could you complain?

speaking of, charlotte was always around you. you’d find it overbearing if you didn’t love the scent of her bergamot perfume, or the way her hand would linger on your shoulder when she’d ask you to chase up client information. as the weeks went on so did her watch over you, to the point where your office became merged with her own.

“but, no one’s meant to come in here… are you sure?”

“of course, darling. it’ll only make things more efficient, won’t it? and… i could use the company.”

you had a growing suspicion that charlotte was favouring you. you weren’t required to wear purple like everyone else, in fact, charlotte went out of her way to begin supplying you with ‘uniform.’ skirts and dresses teetering the line of sensual corporate, whatever that meant. she’d insist you left the top buttons of your blouse undone - “it’s getting quite warm in here, right? maintenance are useless…” - she’d even begun to expect a little fashion show whenever new heftily-priced clothes were placed atop your bedsheets. you couldn’t lie, it excited you to see her so endeared, so proud as you meekly show off your new not-very-sensible black pumps with a price tag that could send you into cardiac arrest.

you soon learnt that charlotte is very tactile. not only in her work within the community, but in her work with you. the first time she suggested you give her a massage, albeit half-joking, you wondered when your daydreams had turned so vivid. as your manicured fingers dug into the junctures of her tensed neck and she lets out a breathy moan, you thanked all your lucky stars.

charlotte declared that your fingers “work magic,” and you tried move past the obvious innuendo that had your cheeks heated red every time you’re around her. it’s hard, though, when she began to use your affection as a stress reliever. it’s not like you hate it, anything but. behind closed eyes, your nights are filled with visions of her slender fingers enclosed around your wrist, tugging you impossibly closer, slipping between your stocking-clad thighs. you sensed that charlotte can somehow read your thoughts, though the thought both scares and excites you.

it started with more massages, where she slips the soft material off her shoulder because “i’m so tense here, lend a hand?” her calloused fingers began to clasp at yours, guiding them just a little further down to where you think the boundaries of your position are blurred. but at this point, self control is out the window, especially with the way her doe eyes completely pull you inward.

everything about her pulls you in, really. all she has to do now is whisper a soft “darling,” when you appear in the doorframe, maybe even a little coax with her finger, and you’re practically floating right into her lap. it’s a proven stress reliever for her, and you’re more than happy to provide. that’s what a good assistant does, after all!

her lips find your neck because she says the scent of you relaxes her, sometimes whispering that you taste good, and you’d never admit how excited that gets you. meanwhile her hands toy with the material of your cardigan’s hem, and you get the hint.

charlotte loves when you talk. she’ll ask you to drone on about your day whilst her teeth are just lightly puncturing the soft skin of your neck, tsk if you stutter whilst she pries your thighs apart. you want to please her, after all, and she knows this too. it’s why her praise now comes in a constant stream, whispers of “good girl, that’s it, you’re making me so proud…”

you make her especially proud when you sink to your knees, under the mahogany of her desk. it’s only ever when you notice she’s particularly tense - knuckles white as she grips the edge of her desk, brows pursed into a quaint frown. you have her like jelly in almost no time as you slip underneath her kaftan, and the only sounds that fill the grandeur of the room are your muffled hums and charlotte’s shaky gasps, curses and praise slipping through her lips like a mantra. only when her thighs are shaking and her eyes are rolling back does she forget about the tasking role that is being head of her commune, all thanks to her doting assistant.

[mournings-stars]

i loved the adam with a fat!reader 🥹 so cute, id love to see lucifer with a reader similar? like maybe shorter like him and a bit on the chubby side 🙏

AHHH THATS SO CUTE

imagine you’re like a chef or baker or something, maybe hellborn, maybe a sinner, and you meet him at an event that he’s just required to go to, so he’s staying by the catering tables and just busying himself with food so he doesn’t have to talk to anyone

“i know it’s a buffet, darlin’, but you’re milking my lil’ supply dry.” and imagine you have the cutest lil accent like maybe it’s southern if you’re hellborn or soft, 50’s movie-type transatlantic if you’re a sinner (i kinda wanna write this now actually so tell me what u prefer…)

first he’d look up, just expecting you to be taller than him, but then he’d look down and see you and immediately try to hand his plate back because how could he take your business for granted when you’re standing right in front of his and so sweet… and beautiful — like he’s not blind, he can see that you’re gorgeous. and if he’s honest the food isn’t good enough to get so many plates, but your restaurant would certainly be popular when you’re the precious little face of it

but he has to stop himself because his thoughts are certainly bordering on rude now, so he’s scrambling to apologize like, “i’m sorry — i see why your food’s so popular now, HAHA, you’re gorgeous — i mean, your food is amazing, but—“

“but?” and then he just shuts up. “no keep going, but what, your majesty?” and he is fumbling, because he can’t tell you he thinks the food is mediocre when he’s been shoving it down his throat all night, but then you say, “i know it’s not my best; they had me here last minute, frettin’ over twenty trays each of my best dishes, which can’t be the best if they’re repeated twenty times,” and even though you’re talking on and on, he’s listening and nodding on and on because because you’re just speaking to him so naturally

“am i talking to much?” “yes — i mean, no! i could listen to you talk all night!”

the rest is literally history, like you tell him to come to your restaurant to see what your cooking is really like, and when he finds out its just a small little restaurant with a couple tables and an old kitchen, he’s amazed because it tastes even better than it did at the event

once he decides to ask you out, and he decides quick, he knows he can’t ask you out to eat, or to an event, or to his house, or to the movies, or—

“you wanna get somethin’ to eat sometime?” and you’re literally asking him before he can even think to ask. “maybe you could cook for me?” you suggest slyly and he’s too flustered to say anything so he just nods. “i’ll make sure i dress fancy for you then, majesty.” and this man is MELTING

and if there’s one thing he learns about you that night its that you are not insecure about anything — your first conversation of you doubting your cooking skills might’ve made him think otherwise, but now he knows it’s just not the case

and you have no reason to be insecure; about your cooking, about anything — hell, you look amazing all dolled up just to come to his home for his 8-minute spaghetti… at least he made homemade meatballs. and those were pretty good! you even complimented them, which gave him a very much needed ego boost to get through the night confidently

and when his confidence finally shows, you’re sure he’s what you want, so you don’t bother taking your time with leading up to kisses or anything past that. you take what you want, with permission, and give him what he wants

and he loves it about you, like, you’re so sure of yourself, confident, and carry yourself with so much charm that people just step out of your way, even with your short stature, which he also loves about you — it’s nice having someone shorter around for once, but he’d definitely shape-shift and let himself be shorter than you for a day or so if you wanted

along those lines, he would give you any and everything you wanted. even if you didn’t ask, he’d give it to you — he’ll get you a new restaurant, new equipment, appliances… hell, he’ll even get you a new apartment… that is, if you don’t move in with him

and he would ask, a million times he’d ask because he just loves being with you that much. whenever you come over, or he goes to your place, he’s stuck to you. he watches you cook, helps if you let him — he bakes! he can bake, but of course he finds out you can too, and he insists you’re much better, but you insist that you do it together since this was much less dangerous than letting him rummage through your spice cabinet

if he’s not helping you, he’s hugging you from behind and watching what you do, hands running all over you, feeling the soft plush of your thighs and hips, your stomach, anything you’ll let him touch which he kisses your cheeks and neck and shoulders — literally anything you’ll let him do because he just loves listening to your precious laughter as he loves on you, or your sighs when he marks your neck or shoulder

this man LOVES lying with his head on your lap or in between your thighs. literally anything to do with your thighs or resting his head on your stomach, like, he’s fully back in heaven

he also loves you on top of him, straddling him while you comb your fingers through his hair, legs across his lap as you read, cuddled up to him as you watch a movie or sleep, he can’t get enough of you

and don’t get me started on the nsfw like… head between your legs all fucking day, squeeze his head with your thighs — like actually do it because he will come undone

[sweetercalypso]

Something Right (Frankie Morales)

Summary: For your first Valentine’s Day together, Frankie goes all out. But can the evening be saved when his plans fall apart?

Word Count: 1.6k

Notes: minors dni; kissing, brief finger sucking, mutual mast., mentions of alcohol, eating/sharing food (chocolate), one tiny injury, afab reader wearing a dress, no use of y/n, Frankie is a sap and we love him for it

Frankie had been planning this date for weeks. Hours spent meticulously crafting a menu, tasting wines, arranging heart-shaped balloons in every corner of the house – anyone could tell that he was a man in love.

He’d ordered an abundance of long-stemmed roses, picked out the perfect card, and agreed to whatever other embellishments the young store clerk had recommended. The first Valentine’s Day as a new couple is meant to be a spectacle, and Frankie’s determined to show you how much you mean to him, no matter the cost.

The evening had started off without a hitch. The house was decorated, the table was set, and Frankie still had enough time to pull his old record player out from storage. Unfortunately, that’s where his luck ended.

He’d chosen an uncharacteristically formal ensemble of dark slacks and a pressed button-down shirt, opting to retire his beloved ball cap for this special occasion. He’d slung a dark red tie around his neck, then switched it out for blue, then abandoned the idea entirely as his nerves began to fray.

The longer he stood in front of the mirror, the more he picked apart his appearance. His pants were too tight, his collar wouldn’t stay in place, and he’d run his fingers through his hair too many times, leaving his beloved messy curls in a state of disarray. Maybe he’s just not the fancy type.

Nevertheless, he moved into the kitchen with the hope that a nice, home-cooked meal would excuse his disheveled look. He’d chosen something simple enough that his rudimentary cooking skills would suffice, yet eloquent enough to still be called a ‘dinner date’. He’d really put in the work to make this evening perfect.

With the table prepared and the sound of vintage crooning love songs playing softly in the living room, there wasn’t much left to do except tackle the intimidating mountain of ingredients waiting on the counter. He sucks in a deep breath and runs a hand down the side of his face, trying to decide where to begin.

A drink first, he settles, aiming to calm his restless energy with a taste of liquid courage.

Cradling the wine in the crook of his arm and skillfully balancing two glasses between his fingers, Frankie rummages through the kitchen drawers in search of a tool to open the seal on the bottle.

The delicate glasses clinking precariously in his hand require the better part of his attention as he adjusts his grip and hunts blindly for the corkscrew he knows is somewhere in here and-

“Shit,” he hisses under his breath, jerking his hand free from the drawer.

In his distraction, Frankie had skimmed his thumb across the sharp edge of a knife disguised in the clutter of endless utensils. His sudden movement had also jolted the wine glasses in his hand, knocking them together harshly and cracking their fragile sides.

He exhales through his nose and places the wine and the broken glasses on the counter before bitterly tending to the cut running across the tip of his thumb.

The noise of the record player turns to static as the last track ends, and Frankie huffs and shoves his hand under the kitchen faucet to ease the sting and assess the damage done by his impulsivity.

Maybe this would turn out to be a drink-from-the-bottle type of celebration, after all.

Just as he’s drying his hands and returning to the feat of preparing dinner, the resounding chirp of the doorbell rings through the air. He freezes in his tracks, wide-eyed and panicked as he checks his watch. 7 o’clock. You’re right on time.

The walk from the kitchen to the foyer is a painful reminder of how unprepared he is for your arrival. An entire day spent getting ready for your date with nothing good to show for it. This day was supposed to be a monument to love, and he feels like he’s let you down.

He’s embarrassed and red-faced as he opens the door to greet you. The mouth-watering neckline of your dress is a cruel poke at his own shabby appearance.

“Frankie,” you drawl, drinking in the sight of his mused curls and the swell of his cotton shirt pulled taut over the muscles in his shoulders. “Don’t you look handsome.”

“Hey sweetheart,” he dips his head in a bashful acknowledgement, opening the door wider to welcome you inside.

You press a chaste kiss to his cheek as you pass by, handing off a heart-shaped box of chocolates and a sappy Valentine’s Day card with big cursive letters on the front.

“Couldn’t show up empty handed,” you mention as the corners of his mouth curl into a grin.

He follows instinctively as you move through the house, guided by the trail of decorations leading into the living room. You stop to admire the bouquet displayed proudly on the coffee table, running your fingers lightly over soft, red petals.

“Oh Frankie,” you gasp. “It’s beautiful.”

He nervously scratches at the scruff on his cheeks as he plants himself beside you. “I had so much planned but everything went wrong,” he confesses. “I tried to look nice and I was gonna make dinner and-”

“It’s perfect, Frankie.”

You cut him off with a kiss before his self-deprecating rambling can continue. “This is all I need for Valentine’s Day – just you.”

He melts into the kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist, humming a pleased sound against your lips. “You’re worth more.”

You pull back just enough to speak, chiding him as he follows your lips with his. “Knowing that you went through the effort is enough.”

His chest is warm under your hands as you smooth your palms down the front of his shirt. “Besides, I think you need to be rewarded for all your hard work.”

His subdued energy is quickly replaced with a reinvigorated interest. He tightens his hold on your hips, raising a brow in question. “Yeah? What’d you have in mind?”

“Since you planned dinner,” you begin, fingers tracing over the row of pearly buttons lining his shirt. “Why don’t I take care of dessert?”

You motion towards the couch and Frankie scrambles to follow your direction. He settles back against the cushions with your gifts placed neatly beside him, thighs spread eagerly as his cock begins to swell against the confines of his boxers.

With slow, teasing movements, you climb into his lap, thighs fitting snugly around his waist as you balance above him.

Frankie’s hands slowly wander up to your hips, bunching the hem of your dress in his fist as he inches his attention higher. When you tug on the waistband of his pants, he stops you with a hand placed over yours.

“Not yet.”

You pause to watch as he reaches beside him and grab the novelty chocolates you’d brought. He brings the heart-shaped box to his mouth, tearing into the plastic with his teeth and unwrapping the sweet treats.

The lid to the box is discarded somewhere to the side as he settles the box in your lap and pulls out a rounded, cream-filled chocolate and places it against your lips. When you open your mouth to accept his offering, Frankie’s fingers linger on your tongue, the taste of his skin salty against the taste of sweetness.

“Good?” he asks, dragging his fingers over your tongue before selecting a piece for himself and tossing it into his mouth.

Half the box is finished in a haze of shared kisses and the rich, fruity flavor of storebought chocolate. When you’ve finally had your fill, Frankie leans forward to deposit the rest on the coffee table, arm slung around your waist to keep you close to his chest.

“You’re too good to me,” he grins, dropping back against the couch.

The movement jostles you in his lap, pressing your core against his hardened cock; a glimpse of exposed skin peaks from beneath the hem of his shirt, providing the perfect chance to remind him of your earlier promises.

“Need to feel you.” Your fingers curl around the button on his slacks and Frankie is quick to agree.

He expertly pulls himself free and runs a hand up the up the underside of his length, slowly dragging his thumb over the head. “You want my cock?” he asks, thighs tensing subtly underneath you as a warmth spreads through your chest.

“Raise your pretty dress up, touch yourself for me.”

You gather a handful of material at your waist while Frankie lazily strokes his cock, watching intently as you slide your underwear to the side and press a finger to your clit.

“S’that feel good?” He speeds up his pace to match the messy tempo of your pleasure, finding his own motivation in the way your thighs hug his hips.

“Frankie,” you cry, chest heaving with the effort of keeping yourself upright. “Please fuck me.”

He swears under his breath and fights the temptation to lay you down and give you what you’re asking for.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” he pants. “Need you to come first.”

Your mouth twists into a disconcerted frown, but your fingers persist, spreading a sheen of glossy slick over the apex of your thighs. You’re both chasing that same feeling, both hurtling towards the same end. Frankie’s free hand closes over yours on your hip like he’s anchoring you in place, urging you closer to your climax.

“C’mon sweetheart. M’so close.”

The pressure building in your gut finally reaches its peak, sending you into Frankie’s chest as you sputter through your release. Frankie follows with a breathless noise as he tips over the edge, spilling pearly rivulets of spend over his tight fist.

Your heart beats wildly in your chest, or maybe that’s Frankie’s pulse thundering over yours. His grip on your hand loosens and he cups the back of your neck, bringing your mouth to his in a hungry, determined kiss.

“Give me five minutes,” he pants against your lips, tasting of chocolate and heady desire. “And I’ll give you anything you want.”

[redr0sewrites]

Hi, I love your works! Can you write a hazbin hotel Lucifer x gn punk reader? Like, they dress punk, listen to punk music and are pretty rebellious anarchists? Tysm

YESSSS OFC!!!! also random rose lore but i am such a big green day fan and my mom once went to a green day concert and she talks ab it all the time-

🥀Cw: fluff, Lucifer being a sweetie

🥀HCs:

Lucifer was probably a little confused about your style and ideals when he first met you

he would ask you soooooo many questions about your outfits

hes a little awkward, but he means well 😭

he definitely asked you for music recommendations because you seemed really interested and invested in your style of music

when you started talking all excitedly about your favorite bands and music taste, Lucifer found himself enraptured by your love for the things you enjoy

Lucifer admires your individuality and how you stay true to the things you enjoy, and he also loves your spunky attitude

deep down, he despises heaven and authority figures as much as anyone else and he thinks its hilarious that the two of you are dating

an anarchist and the literal king of hell

once u start recommending your music to him, hes hooked

suddenly every rock or punk song he listens to reminds him of you, and he adores it

i think he'd really enjoy green day, maybe x ray spex too, but he'll ultimately listen to anything u want him too

lucifer ADORES your style too

if you wear studded patch jackets, vests, etc he DEFINITELY designs patches and studs for you

he would give u a little duck or apple pin to put on your jacket!!!

lucifer will help you out with your hair too, he loves detangling it at the end of the day and washing all of the hair spray and spiky styling out

would def help you dye it fun colors too

i mentioned this in my goth hcs, but if you wear a lot of jewelry he loves to fiddle and fidget with it while he's bored

like he'll just be standing next to you and all of a sudden he's playing with the chain necklaces you're wearing or poking the spikes and studs on your jacket just bc he's bored

overall, he's super supportive and sweet

"are you ready, duckling?" Lucifer called, waiting for you to finish getting ready. he had decided to take you out on a date tonight- not to a fancy establishment, no, but to a more hell-born central part of the pentagram to visit some knock-off theme park you'd mentioned weeks ago called LooLoo Land. the both of you thought that the obvious copyright of Lu Lu World was hilarious, and what better place to go on a date than a shitty theme park?

"I'm coming Luci, give me a sec!" you shout, "i'm just finishing up with my accessories". Lucifer hums in response, soon bursting into giggles as you come hurdling down the stairs, tackling him in a hug. you both pulled away after a few seconds, and Lucifer stepped back to admire your outfit. "Is it just me, or have you gotten spikier?" Lucifer chuckled, poking a stud on your jacket as you roll your eyes. "C'mon you, we have to go!" you smile, dragging him out the door as he admired your determined expression. "driving or teleporting?" you ask, and Lucifer shrugs. "you're no help," you grumble, but take his hand. "let's teleport, it'll be quicker." with a smile, Lucifer opens a portal. "Whatever you wish, dear ~"

RAHHHHHH💯💯💯 this one required a bit of research cuz idk as much ab punk culture/music as ik ab goth stuff, but it was still sm fun to write!!!!!

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b.) - part two

previous part | series masterlist

soundtrack: lavender haze - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: you and Bradley go on a date. they say the wrong things --or right things-- and surprise each other as they get to know each other better. warnings: language, so much unresolved tension, mentions of character deaths, fluffy heartfelt stuff, but also like sexy stuff 👀 notes: i had so much fun writing this! special shoutout to @gretagerwigsmuse who had to deal with my annoying thots at all hours. comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated as always. happy reading! <3

✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Subject: Guest Attendance Confirmation From: management@annabels.co.uk

Dear Madam,

Thank you for confirming your information regarding your upcoming visit to Annabel’s.

It is our pleasure to host you for your dinner reservation on the 23rd of March, 2023, as a guest of our member Mr. Bradley Bradshaw. We hope that you have a wonderful experience dining and entertaining at the Club with us.

In order to ensure your positive and memorable experience with us, we kindly ask all members and guests to be aware of a few key rules of the Club:

DRESS CODE. We encourage individuality and style in your smart attire. After 6PM, gentlemen are required to wear jackets. Read the full dress code guidelines here.

PHONE & PHOTOGRAPHY. As a Private Members’ Club, we kindly ask Members and Guests to refrain from taking photographs within the Club’s premises. Posting content to your social media from your visit to the Club is not permitted. Phones must be kept on silent at all times and are only permitted for use in limited areas of the Club.

For guidance, read the Rules & Bylaws of the Club here.

If you require further information or assistance, please do not hesitate to reach out through this email address or by phone at +44 20 7946 0011.

Thank you and see you soon.

Best wishes, Maude Adams Floor Manager.

***

You’re not sure why you’re bracing for something to go wrong.

The restaurant is rife with opulence, with rich chartreuse and bronze walls and Japanese-style paintings over classic British architecture. Bradley booked a little corner booth just off the fireplace, the privacy still granting a nice view of the grandiose bar across the room. He pulled up your chair and told you that you look beautiful—a good three or four times, and it feels just as genuine as the first. With your show and his training the next day, you both had to pass on the booze and settle with some green tea to go with your food. Conversation flows effortlessly, exploring easy topics like your shared love of old movies, the Venn diagram of your music tastes, the novelty of the sport that he plays…

“Okay, but how did you get into soccer—I mean, football?” You smile sheepishly as you correct yourself. “Sorry. Wouldn’t wanna get maimed to death by the locals.”

He laughs. “Don’t worry. You’re safe with me.” And then he takes a deep breath as his finger toys with the condensation on the side of his glass. “It’s… uh, my dad, actually. He bought me a soccer ball for Christmas when I was like 2 and… it’s most of the memories I had with him, playing kickabout in the backyard.”

“Oh?”

He smiles—diplomatically, all things considered. “He died when I was 4.”

Your face falls. Fuck. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry…”

“Nah, don’t be. It was a long time ago. And I feel like he’s with me every time I step on the pitch.” Bradley nods, ever so reassuring. He’s had enough ‘I’m sorry’s’ for every time his dad comes up in conversation, and he doesn’t want you to feel obliged to do the same.

“But hey, I think it’s wonderful… that he’s right there in spirit with you every game.” You smile back, trying to save this slip-up in conversation. “And I bet your mom’s really proud of you, right?”

To his own surprise, he chuckles. It really is true that tragedy plus time equals comedy. “I mean, I like to think so.” He notices your questioning look, and realizes he needs to let you in on the joke too. “My mom died when I was 17. Cancer. I moved out here and lived with my godfather. Got scouted for Arsenal.”

And there it is.

You’ve been so worried about all the external factors going wrong, that you didn’t consider that the faulty one might be you. 

The clinks of plates and cutleries suddenly become so loud. The subtle piano playing over the speakers sound garbled, like you’re underwater. And the salmon sashimi in your mouth tastes like lead now. How the fuck does lightning manage to strike twice?! 

“I’m sorry, I…” and now you can’t even muster up a proper apology, because what do you even say?! The only thing that comes out of your mouth is a lame excuse, “I… thought it was a good idea not to Google you.”

His heart catches at the sight of you, all wide-eyed and dumbstruck. You wouldn’t believe it if he told you, but he thinks he might have just fallen in love with you there. Foot in mouth and all.

But you… you think you must’ve looked so stupid right now. “Fuck. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed—”

“No, no, no. It’s alright!” Bradley quickly interjects, that twinkle of amusement in his eyes still lingers. “I appreciate it, actually. I’ll take awkward moments with you over anything else you can Google about me.”

“Really?”

He nods. “Of course. I mean… it’s not like you killed them, did you?”

There’s a split second of silence, when you meet his playful gaze, and his mouth pulls into a grin over your petrified look, and then… the tension simply melts away in a sigh of tentative laughs. The garbled underwater music has come up to the surface, the dining noises dissipates, and everything turns back to normal… ish.

“Anyway, what about yourself? How did you get into… all of this?”

“Oh, it’s all I’ve ever known, really. Pretty sure I sang before I knew how to talk. I was always pestering my mom about ballet and piano lessons and living room concerts… I was that kid, you know?”

The image makes him smile, and it sends butterflies to your stomach. “Your mom must’ve been thrilled.”

“Eh.” You shrug flippantly, and that non-answer is enough of an answer for Bradley. “But she knew I was stubborn as hell, and she’s better off letting me tire myself out than trying to stop me, so…”

“But you didn’t.”

You shake your head. “By 5, I was on Broadway—”

His jaw falls open, and he looks at you like grew a new head. “I’m sorry. Five years old?”

You raise your hand in defense, not wanting to oversell yourself. “To be fair, though, it was mostly luck. My mom was working in the theater company and they needed a kid, so I volunteered to stand in—I mean, naturally,” you roll your eyes at yourself, “And they liked me. So they put me on. But I didn’t have to do anything but pretend to be asleep while the adult cast carried me around.”

“Still. That’s more than most people can say. You continued doing it afterwards, right?”

“Mm-hm. Stage, commercials, TV, the occasional movies… anything I could get my hands on.”

Bradley studies you with this look of awe—not an unusual reaction, he’s sure; it’s a pretty impressive feat. But he also catches a lost sense of melancholy in the way you say it, and he can’t help but ask, “Did you have a childhood at all?”

And your heart catches. That’s something nobody ever asked you before… “What do you mean?”

He pauses, realizing he may have inadvertently touched on a sensitive subject with this line of questioning. So he tries again more carefully. “I just meant… you’ve been working most of your life. Did you ever just get to be a kid?”

“I…” you trail off, considering your answer. You want to say yes, of course you did, but the little sting in your throat makes you question yourself: did you?

And with the soft look in his eyes, you know he knows the real answer to that. Both of you do.

It’s alarming how disarming he can be, and you would hate it… except you don’t. At least not enough to make you run off. “I guess, being in that kind of environment, I didn’t really know how to be a kid…? If that makes any sense.”

Bradley nods, understanding. He’s not entirely sure how to respond, but he wants to be empathetic.

“I went to school and made friends for a while, but…” Normally this would be an uphill point in your story, but tonight… this part is tinged with distant sorrow. “I got a record deal when I was 15, and suddenly I was living in LA and working in the studio or going on tours and… I just wasn’t a kid anymore.”

It breaks his heart, the thought of a childhood lost on you like that. “Wow. You really have lived a life, haven’t you?” He can’t resist but reaches out for your hand. 

The touch makes your heart catch, and it feels overwhelming. It feels like you’re gonna burst, so you chicken out with a lame joke. “Haven’t slept in 22 years.”

Bradley can’t help but smile at that, squeezing your hand three times in comfort. And just like that, the bubble bursts and the world continues on its axis once again. He finishes his last slice of tuna tataki and washes it down with his konacha.

“You know, for how much you’ve done since you started out, I thought you’d be more… Hollywood.”

You raise an eyebrow in amusement. “Hollywood?”

“Okay, that came out wrong,” he admits bashfully. “I just… you’re very down-to-earth. And real. I guess I expected more, like, an attitude?”

“Oh? I can have an attitude…” you smirk coyly over your tea, “...if you can handle it.”

Fuck. You’re gonna be the death of him. It’s insane how easily you switch from being sweet and vulnerable, to flirty and borderline devilish. But he wasn’t born yesterday, and he knows he’s well-equipped to handle this back-and-forth.

“I think you’d be surprised by what I can handle.”

Oh, here comes the fun part. “Is that right?”

He nods, leaning into you a little bit from across the table. “I think you’d find a lot about me surprising.”

If the whiff of his Tom Ford Black Orchid catches you off-guard, you don’t show it. Instead, you mirror his body language, propping your chin on your knuckles for good measure. “Like what?”

God, he really wants to kiss you… but it’s way too soon, and he doesn’t know how you feel about public displays of affection. “Like… I’m a pretty decent cook. And I like reading.”

“An athlete who can read? My, my…” you smirk teasingly.

Bradley laughs. He walked right into that one. But he’s not ready to admit defeat yet. Instead, he makes use of that bedroom voice girls like so much to push the point further. “That’s right. I know how to use the washing machine, too.”

You bite your lower lip and sigh, shuddering a little from his low rasp but definitely playing up the dramatics. “You do? Mmh…” 

Jesus. If that’s you faking it, he can’t wait to make you all wet and needy for real. “And you wanna know the best part?”

You meet his gaze, and for a moment, the lustful tension is real. “Yeah?”

He leans in just a little closer, head tilting as if he’s moving in for a kiss. Maybe if he throws it out there… “I can put together Ikea furniture.” 

You throw your head back and feigns a quiet but dramatic moan for your one-man audience. “Oh my gosh, I think I just came in my pants a little.”

Fuck. He really wants to make you come now. With his fingers, his tongue, his cock—

Your gaze drops to his mouth, the stupid 80’s pornstache you’ve never been into before this, the soft inviting lips underneath. The ball is in your court now, and you know he would kiss you earnestly if you close the distance…

But you burst out laughing instead. Bradley releases the breath he didn’t realize he was holding, although your bright laughter doesn’t deter him from thinking dirty thoughts about you. If anything, it just makes you ten times hotter in his eyes.

“Well played. That was a good one,” Bradley concedes, his face turning just a little bit pink.

“We should probably stop before the staff kicks us out for having too much fun,” you lean back into your seat, looking around the restaurant, making sure no one is listening. Squeezing his hand three times as the next course arrives… not entirely putting the kiss off of the table either.

Bradley recommends the vanilla mille crepe to close the meal, and you come up with the idea of sharing a slice. The dessert arrives, a lush little golden brown thing with thin layers of cream in between, so simple and so intricate at the same time. He lets you take the first bite—insists upon it, actually. It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.

That, and he wants to watch your face twist in pleasure again. Eyes fluttering closed, chest falling in a sigh, lips parted ever so slightly... God, he can’t wait to be the one responsible for it.

“Amazing, right?” He beams at you, very pleased with himself.

“Mm, it truly is,” you hum in agreement, watching him take a bite. It gives you a naughty idea… “It’s so amazing, I might just hijack this whole thing.” You jokingly pull the plate a little closer to you.

Bradley playfully holds the plate back, looking faux offended. “Hey! Come on. You know I’m a little bit stronger than you, right?”

“Please. That’s never stopped me before.” 

“Really?”

“I have my ways…” your finger reaches out just enough to touch his, just slightly.

Between that and your eyes darkening in mischief, Bradley fights hard not to turn into goo under your slightest touch. He bites the inside of his cheek to contain himself. “You’re really making me earn this, aren’t you?”

“Why? Girls never gave you a hard time before, Mr. Big Time Football Man?”

He laughs. “No. But you’re probably the only one giving me this hard a time for a bite of dessert.”

“Is that all we’re playing for? A bite of dessert?” you smirk, egging him on.

“What else do you think we’re playing for here?” He takes a second bite, maintaining eye contact as he does so.

You take another bite and lick the cream off of your fork. “I don’t know. A bite of… something else?”

Ah. So we are interested. Bradley is unfazed as he gently warns you, “Careful. I might take you up on that.”

“Good. I was hoping you would.”

The tension rises as reality sinks in. You both want to fuck, and looking at the trajectory of the evening, there’s a good chance you will. And it sobers you the hell up, pulling you both straighter in your seats. Sharing the slice of cake in quiet civility. Keeping a completely respectable distance, as if worried you don’t trust yourself not to climb over the table and kiss him senseless. 

But the game… oh, the game is on.

“I don’t know about you, but… I was thinking maybe a few bites, though.”

“Oh?”

“Oh, yeah. I intend to explore every part of this… dessert.”

You stop chewing for a moment. There’s something so hot about how he says it so casually. “That’s… very optimistic of you.”

“Not optimistic enough to decide if kissing you out here was a good idea,” he admits sheepishly.

“Why is that?”

Bradley shrugs. “Just a hunch.”

He’s right, of course. He didn’t choose an ultra-exclusive, members-only establishment with a no-phone policy just for kicks. He sees the security detail that follows you around, lurking at a safe distance—from back at the club. And tonight, you’re traveling light with just two bodyguards, each strategically posted near you and the exit, but it’s still more than he’s ever encountered. There’s no way you would risk a first kiss in public, no matter how discreet the place is. No matter how much you like him.

And you like him a whole lot.

“Tell you what…” you put the fork down as quietly as you can. This is the moment of truth. “I’ll let you kiss me all you want back at my hotel, hm?”

Bradley’s eyes light up instantly. He takes a moment, not so much to consider his options, but to process what’s about to happen. “I would like that very much, yes.”

“Alright, then. Shall we?” you smile brightly, flagging the waiter for the check.

“Uh, yeah. Totally. We shall,” he stammers a little, recovering fast enough to snatch the check and slips his credit card in the tab. Barely addressing the waiter as they walk back to the till.

It all happens so fast, and you whine in complaint. “Oh, come on!”

“What, was I supposed to let you pay or something?”

“You were supposed to let me pretend to fight for it, at least…” you huff.

He smiles in amusement. You are so adorable, it makes his heart fucking swell. “Okay. Next time I’ll let you pretend. I’ll even give you a little pushback for good measure, how about that?”

“Perfect.”

“Now, let’s go back to your hotel and… I don’t know, pretend you have to try really hard to resist my charms.”

“Yeah, okay.” You chuckle in agreement. This is really happening. Wow. And just as the excitement sets in, another point of concern pops up in your head, like a really annoying notification. “Did you drive here or…?”

He nods. “You wanna take my car?”

“No, I got a car waiting for me…” you smile apologetically, glancing at her bodyguard. There’s no way they’re gonna let you jump into some guy’s car. “And there’s gonna be paps out front…” Here comes the tricky part. “Would you… mind if we… go separately and meet up at my hotel?”

Oh. Bradley’s face falls a little upon realizing that he can’t just walk out the door with you. He sees how this works. You don’t want the media to jump on this first date, and it’s actually a smart move. Besides, what’s a few more minutes to a whole night of complete privacy? “Sure, no problem.”

You nod tentatively. Well, that was surprisingly easy… “And just to be clear, this has nothing to do with you. It’s just… this whole thing can be a circus, and I don’t want you to deal with anything you didn’t sign up for.”

He smiles at you. Bless you for being so thoughtful, but it does make him wonder if other people have had trouble with it. But maybe that’s a question for another time. “Hey, I totally understand. We’ll just meet up at the hotel and leave it at that.”

“I’ll text you, okay?”

You squeeze his hand gently before you get up, making your way out of the restaurant. Powering through the camera flashes as soon as you walk out of the front door. Giddy because you know something these vultures don’t.

Meanwhile, Bradley sits. Waits. For one minute, and two, and three. Looking at people walking in and out, wondering how inconspicuous he would be if he walks out now.

And then…

His phone buzzes.

[creamhoodie]

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊‧⁺˖ His Princess ˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊

synopsis: Reo spoils you for your one year anniversary. Warnings: 2,115 words, aged up after Bluelock events, romance and smut, one-shot, minors DNI

Reo loved to spoil you. Tonight was no different in fact he wanted to spoil you more since it was your one year anniversary. Even though you were humble and shy about his gift giving nature he had still made sure to book reservations at the most luxurious French restaurant he could find. He had even picked your outfit, gifting you a beautiful dress made out of lotus silk though your own beauty outshone the rare fabric. 

It truly gave him such sweet pleasure almost orgasmic-like to bestow on you presents each better and more expensive than the last. You had once told him, “Reo, I don’t need these things. I just want you.” 

“I know. That’s why I wanna give you anything and everything,” he had responded. 

For Reo the exhilaration and joy of buying items had died while he was still a child for what could he possibly want when he realized everything was at his disposable? 

Clothing, cars, jewels, and money itself meant nothing to him and material items no longer interested him. That feeling had only increased as well when he became a professional athlete with even more riches. The only joy he received from partaking in his wealth was when he was using it to spend on you and show you how much he loved you. Gift giving was his love language and because you were pure hearted and non materialistic he wanted to spoil you all the more. 

That’s why over dinner he presented you with your first little Tiffany Blue box. The way your starry eyes lit up gave him dopamine. As always you started with your protests that he shouldn’t spend so much on you. 

“You’re my princess and I will always give you treasures so get used to it,” he said and helped you put the necklace on. 

“I just feel like I can’t give anything back to you,” you said as you swept your hair to the side. 

He secured the clasp and kissed your neck whispering into your skin: “you give me everything by being mine and letting me love you. That’s worth more than anything money can ever buy.” 

He placed more kisses at your neck, hungry and desperate and he felt you pulsate in bliss at his touch. The smell and taste of you had him asking for the check, desperate to be alone with you.

˖⁺‧₊˚♡˚₊

“I want you to pick one you’d like to wear for me. You get to keep all three so don’t worry princess,” he cooed into your ear as he stood behind you, his arms around your waist. He was in your shared bedroom with you, and  three large shopping bags from lingerie boutiques were on the bed. This was your second surprise of the night he had planned. 

“Reo, you really went all out didn’t you?” You asked. He saw your face take on its usual rosy glow when you were presented with a gift. 

It was always that rosy glow and those starry eyes from before when you were presented with the Tiffany Blue box that told him you secretly relished in receiving his gifts. 

Though you weren’t materialistic he knew at your core you loved to be showered with these gifts the way all women did. He was highly of the opinion that women were like flowers and meant to be pollinated with gifts and treasures. Each was beautiful and required care and deserved to be worshiped. You are his flower and to him you are the most beautiful in any garden.

“Go ahead and pick one angel,” he coaxed arms still around your waist as he hugged you from behind. 

You opened the first bag holding up a red floral fishnet teddy with the tags denoting it as a Spanish import. He had chosen that one because the red reminded him of how red and abused his cock would become after fucking you.

You put that one back in the bag and went on to do the same with the second holding up a see through laced pink slip. That one he had chosen as homage to your rosy glow and it reminded him of a princess dress. The thought alone of railing you in something so innocent nearly sent him over the edge. 

The last lingerie item was a wired two piece deep violet set. That one he had chosen because he knows how you love his violet hair and eyes. 

“They are all so beautiful, Reo. Thank you,” you said. 

“You’re beautiful. Exquisite. Stunning,” he said, placing kisses into your neck between each compliment. 

“I know which one I want to wear for you tonight but close your eyes because I want it to be a surprise for you,” you said. He closed them as instructed and let you guide him to sit on the bed. “No peeking and keep them closed until I say you can open them.”

He did just that listening to the scuffling of the bags and fabric. 

“You can open your eyes now,” you said. He did and his breath caught. You looked ethereal in the see through pink slip you had selected so much more impossibly gorgeous than he could imagine. Since you wore nothing underneath it (minus the necklace he had put on you earlier) he had a full view of your perky  breasts and pussy. 

“You chose well baby, you look like such a princess,” he said and motioned for you to sit on his lap. 

When you did his lips latched onto yours kissing you now without holding back, all the hunger and desperation he had felt at the restaurant poured through. 

“Reo,” you pleaded from both the pain and pleasure your stinging clit was causing you. He understood perfectly and not one to keep his princess waiting he picked you up before laying you back out on the bed, your legs were open for him and his face was cradled in between your thighs. 

“I know baby I know,” he said sympathetically, his cock feeling that same longing and pain. He would take care of you first though. Through and through you were his flower, his to please.  His fingers teased at your slit so wet and soaked already but he knew that from the wet stain that had pooled on his slacks from you sitting on his lap. 

With ease he pushed one finger inside of you then a second.

“Reo.. I need,” you struggled to speak and the mounds of your breasts rising and falling under the see through pink slip made the bulge in his pants expand even more.

“What do you want, baby?” He asked though he knew, of course he knew you inside and out and exactly how to touch you. Still, he loved making you vocalize it, receiving an ego boost for how your face would contort in absolute yearning for him.

“Tongue.. I need your tongue,” you panted say he continued to lazily finger you. 

“Need it where, baby? Say it,” he commanded firmly. 

“My pussy. Reo I need your tongue in my pussy.”

Alas, the magic words he had been dying to hear. 

He was quick to oblige you by removing his fingers and replacing them with his tongue, immediately soaked with your juices. Greedily your hands went to his loose hair pushing his face further in. 

He lapped at your pussy as if he was in the desert and it was his only source of hydration and hydrate him you did as your arousal kept flooding on his tongue. 

He has always loved how you tasted from the very first time he had tasted your sweet folds and they had lathered him up like a freshly squeezed peach. From the way your fingers tightened in his hair and your repeated moans of his name each crescendoing more than the last he knew you were close to orgasming. Between his tongue and his fingers skilled caresses he was soon flooded with your sweet relief as you laid flushed and trying to catch your breath. 

He pressed kisses into your inner thighs and as he did he felt you still pulsating. 

“That’s a good princess,” he whispered, “my good princess.” 

Your eyes looked at him with such love he couldn’t contain himself. 

“Reo, I want you to feel good too,” you said. Always generous and always willing to accommodate him, that’s what he loved about you and why he spoiled you.

“Is that so, princess?” He asked. 

You nodded tightly, face flushed and still fucked out. 

“Why don’t you go ahead  and undress me then?” He asked knowing that it was one of your favorite things to do. 

You started by unzipping his slacks, he smiled at that, you were always so eager. He helped your hands along the way, undoing his belt while you undid his tie. Soon he was just in his boxers, the tenting in them becoming almost unbearable.

He didn’t break eye contact with you as he stepped out of his boxers, noticing how your eyes widened at his cock. He stroked it a few times, prepping it just for you. 

“Be a good girl and lay back for me,” Reo said. You did so as he lined himself up with you. You were still so wet and felt the mushroom tip of him press against your entrance before easily sliding in. 

“Reo, you’re so big,” you stammered in both pain and pleasure a concoction only he could derive from you. 

“You take me so well though,” he said before pushing himself further in, “like you were made for me.” 

He sighed in complete bliss upon feeling your soothing warmth and softness. It was this sensation that made him want to buy you the moon if you wanted it. In this missionary position, violet eyes meeting yours, shaky breath, moans, and skin upon skin you could have asked him for anything and he wouldn’t deny it of you. 

 Your hands  went to his deep violet hair, fingers gripping the locks to steady yourself as you gave him one simple  command: “ruin me,” with begging glossy eyes. 

Who was he to deny you? If you wanted to be ruined he would oblige. 

He pumped into you steadily then all at once increased his speed, his carnal desire for you taking over. 

In and out he went and he wasn’t blind to the fact that you watched as his cock would go in and out each time coated more with your arousal.

“You’re so naughty. You love watching me fuck you don’t you princess?” He teased. Your face turned bright red and your eyes darted elsewhere. “Don’t you dare look away.”  With your eyes back on him he thrusted even harder now, the gripping in his hair tightened as well as your vaginal walls tightened around him as if you’d never let him go.

He could die here buried inside of you and he’d have no regrets or remorse. 

Between your legs was the treasure money couldn’t buy. He could lose his inheritance, his trust fund, his riches and soccer career but one thing he couldn’t stand to lose was the feeling of your warmth flooding on his cock. 

His hands pushed the pink slip up so he could access your breasts as he leaned forward to suck on your ripe nipple as he continued to  give you fast paced strokes. 

“Reo… feels so good,” you praised. 

“I bet it does,” he cooed. 

His tongue outlined your areola in circular motions following its shape as the feel of his tongue caused you to shiver from the sensitivity. Your breasts had a slight metallic taste from where the necklace had hovered in between them. His hips continued to buck against yours and he knew you were close again. He talked you through your orgasm now moaning your name and telling him how good you made him feel and how your warmth felt better than anything he had ever experienced. 

“Nothing can make me feel as good as you can, absolutely nothing,” he whispered. 

He loved missionary with you because now as you came down from your high he got to see your face flush and your eyes roll back in pleasure as you both reached your peak. He most especially loved being able to rest inside of you, laying gently on top of you as you stroked his hair as you each caught your breath. 

When he had recovered enough, still inside of you, he leaned forward to kiss you softly and slowly on the lips. 

“Happy one year anniversary,” he said before kissing you and once again becoming lost in your skin.