#cherry's writing

[cherryandsugar]

Blame

Pairing: Astarion x f!Reader/Tav

Genre: Fluff, Angst, Hurt/Comfort

WC: 2,313

Warnings: set in Act 3 (minor spoilers), reader is referred to as Tav exactly twice, reader is smaller than Karlach, POV changes, major character injury, blood, mentions of death, angst with a happy ending :)

Summary: A grievous injury leaves Tav incapacitated, and as the party struggles to heal her, Astarion blames himself for her pain.

~~~

Blood, smoke, and ash coat your throat as your breath heaves. The battle around you rages on, your companions facing off against the Banite chemists of Felogyr’s Fireworks. A stray firebolt had ignited the nearby smokepowder, setting off a chain reaction that shook the building and singed the very air. The blast hadn’t taken you down, nor had it eliminated all your foes.

The clashing of Lae’zel’s blades and Karlach’s war cry fills your ears. Hidden somewhere in the rubble, Astarion picks off enemies one by one with well timed sneak attacks. And you? You stand in the center of it all, ducking and dodging as two of the heavily armored Banites take turns swinging their weapons at you.

You retaliate as best as you can, but your strikes seem to bounce off their armor harmlessly. They advance on you, forcing you to back away, further from your friends. One, wielding a mace, raises his weapon to strike and catches your arm. The crushing weight of his blow has you scrambling backwards, taking your eyes off your foes for a brief moment to check behind you.

In that split second, an arrow flies over your head and burrows itself into the throat of the man who struck you. He chokes on his own blood for a moment, before crumbling to the ground. Dead.

As you face your remaining foe, you adjust your grip on your short sword to favor your injured arm and make a mental note to thank Astarion for having your back when this is over. 

No longer on the defensive, you swing your sword upward, aiming for the Banite’s neck. He deflects with his longsword, before swiping down at your abdomen. His blade brushes against your leather armor before he reels back to swing again. Before he can bring his arms down, he freezes, wobbling on unsteady feet before joining his comrade on the floor, Karlach’s battle ax sticking out of his back. 

She rushes over from where she’d thrown her weapon, the battle seemingly over, to pry it from the corpse before she stops in front of you.

“You alright, soldier?” her brows crease as she asks.

You gasp, still catching your breath as adrenaline courses through you, “Yeah. Thanks,” you respond with a grateful smile.

“You sure? That doesn’t look—“ she’s cut off as Astarion rushes over from behind you.

“Darling, where are you hurt?” his voice is rushed. He grabs your shoulders and turns you to face him, crimson eyes scanning your face for any sign of pain.

You smile at his concern, always looking out for you, “I’m fine, love. Are you alright?” you ask as you raise your hand to cup his cheek, your breath calming as the rush of battle fades. But Astarion does not look calm. His eyebrows are furrowed and his mouth is set in a grim frown as his eyes continue their search.

He ignores your question.

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, I can smell it,” he casts his eyes downward, continuing his search. His eyes widen as they take you in, any color in his pale face drains. You follow his line of sight. You see it before you feel it. Blood.

At once, the adrenaline high you’d been riding vanishes. The leather of your armor, just over your abdomen has been shredded, blood oozes from beneath it, soaking your underclothes and dripping out onto the floor. You can only imagine what your flesh looks like beneath the mess. Your head spins and your vision blurs before the pain rushes to greet you, the force of it knocking your knees out from under you.

As you collapse, your three companions jump into action. Astarion, with wide eyes and frantic movements grabs you by the arms and gently lowers you to the floor, settling your head on his lap as he kneels beside you. Karlach digs through the pack, searching for anything that might help you as Lae’zel rushes to stabilize your wound. 

You writhe in agony as she applies a cruel pressure to your stomach, gasping for air as Astarion reaches to hold your hand. You squeeze as the pain shoots through you, burning and searing hotter than any fire. His face hovers over yours, a blurry mess of white and red before you squeeze your eyes shut against the pain.

“Hey, hey. Focus on me, right here love,” he tries desperately to keep your attention as he brushes your hair away from your eyes. As if he can sense you nodding off, he looks up, “Karlach, we need a potion, a spell— something.”

She shuffles around behind him, practically dumping all of your supplies out before shouting, “We only have one, we need to get her back to camp.” She sounds panicked, passing Astarion the lone potion of healing.

He curses under his breath, turning back to you. You blink slowly, mumbling deliriously through your pain, “Sorry… Star, love you,” He shushes you as he lifts your head to pour the potion down your throat, tender in his panic. You swallow greedily, looking back up to him, focusing on his eyes. Those deep scarlet eyes which usually hold so much love are now filled with fear.

“Pretty,” you sigh, before darkness creeps along the edge of your vision and finally engulfs you.

…

Astarion is stunned for a moment.

“Tav?” he whispers, nudging your shoulder. When you don’t respond he turns around, shouting this time, “Karlach!”

“On it, Fangs,” she resolves, abandoning the pile of loot she’d scattered in her mad search for a healing potion. She kneels next to your immobile form, gently lifting you from under your knees and back, carefully positioning your head to rest on her shoulder. 

Lae’zel backs away from your body, releasing the pressure she kept on your wound with a hiss, “Tsk’va! We must hurry, she’s lost too much blood.”

Astarion stares blankly at the puddle you’ve left behind– far too big for the amount of time you spent laying there as Karlach makes toward the stairs, disappearing around the corner.  The only thing running through his mind is you. Your gasps of pain, your slowing heartbeat, the light in your eyes. 

Before he can dive too deep into despair, Lae’zel is shaking him by the shoulders, “Snap out of it! You’re useless here, we must follow Karlach and get her back safely. Come!” she orders as she stands to leave. Her command awakens something within him, something accustomed to following orders. He stands, and dashes to catch up with Karlach and Lae’zel, both of whom had already made their way out to the city streets. 

Karlach was jogging as quickly as she could without jostling you too much, and Lae’zel took a defensive position close behind her, ready to strike should someone dare to intercept them as they made their way to the Elfsong. He follows close behind, tears gathering in his eyes and blood rushing in his ears, and he realizes it’s your blood pumping through him.

He’d fed on you last night, and now you’d been hurt. Maybe if he had been able to control himself, if he wasn’t such a horrific, bloodsucking monster, you would have fought better, moved faster… This was his fault.

The only person he’d ever loved, on death’s door because of him. He didn’t notice when the tears began to fall, but once they started there was no stopping them. Lae’zel glanced over at him as the group passed the Baldur’s Mouth and cursed, “Chk! Astarion, run ahead. Tell Shadowheart to get ready. Now!”

Another command. He rushed ahead, almost instinctively, to obey, running as fast as his legs would carry him. When he finally climbed the stairs and burst through the doors he made a beeline for Shadowheart’s bunk. She was reading when he barged in on her. She glanced up, dropping the book when she took in his appearance: blood splattered on his hands and face, eyes wild, and panting from his sprint.

“Tav. Hurt,” he gasped, “No more potions.”

A steely expression overtook her features and she gave a curt nod, understanding what was needed. She led the way back to their common area as Lae’zel slammed the doors open, making way for Karlach to bring you in.

His breath hitched. You looked so fragile, so small in Karlach’s arms. The shaky rise and fall of your chest was his only comfort as he listened for your heartbeat. Slow, but still beating.

Karlach and Shadowheart kneel down, right there in the doorway to get to work, unwilling to waste precious moments moving you to a bed. The others gather nearby, worry marring their faces as they look on. As Shadowheart begins her healing incantations Gale places a gentle hand on Astarion’s shoulder.

“Come on, my friend. Staring won’t help her now. Why don’t you get cleaned up so you can care for her properly when she wakes?”

Astarion knows he is trying to distract him, trying to remove him from the situation should something go wrong, but he can’t find the energy to resist. He nods his head absentmindedly and allows Gale to lead him away.

…

It’s dark when you wake, and it takes a moment for you to assess your surroundings. Your head pounds, a splitting headache causing you to groan, the sound catching on your dry throat. Before you can sit up, a hand tightens its already-present grip on your own. You look to your side and see the disheveled form of your love.

“Star?” you croak, “What happened?” He swallows thickly, before taking a deep breath and moving his seat closer to your bedside. 

“You almost died,” his voice breaks on the final word, you can hear the tears in his voice, but you wait for him to continue, “Bastard nearly split you open, it took everything Shadowheart had to keep you alive.” And you faintly feel what remains of the wound that nearly ended you. It’s a dull ache, nowhere near as debilitating as before.

Your breath catches, “Gods,” you whisper, “The others? Are they alright?”

He quells your rising panic before it can take root, “They’re fine, love. Don’t worry about them, worry about yourself for once. How do you feel?”

‘My head hurts…” you whisper. He lets go of your hand for a moment, turning in the dark to retrieve something. When he faces you again, his hand cradles the back of your neck as the other raises a glass of water to your lips.

“Drink darling, this will help.”

The water soothes your sore throat as it passes your lips. When you finish, Astarion sets the glass on your bedside table and takes your hand back into his own, “Shadowheart will be back in the morning once she’s recovered, and Gale is brewing more healing potions than we’ll ever need. This will never happen again.” His hand squeezes your own with his promise.

You nod at his declaration, as if the sheer power of his will could prevent you from falling wounded.

“How long have I been asleep?” you venture.

“Just a few hours,” he whispers, reaching to brush his hand over your forehead. Whether it was to clear any hair from your eyes or simply to touch you as much as possible– you couldn’t tell. 

“Will you lay with me?” 

“Darling, I thought you’d never ask,” he breathed, as if he was trying to cover his relief with that familiar self-assured persona, but couldn’t quite mask it. Carefully, he helped you shift over on the bed to make room for him. He crawled under the covers to join you, guiding you to rest your head on his chest. His arm wrapped firmly, yet gently, around your waist. You grasped at his shirt to ground yourself in the moment. You are here, you are safe.

His other hand came up to cover your own on his chest, thumb rubbing the back of your hand softly, and you sighed into him as you shuffled ever closer. His cool temperature soothed your lingering aches as your body heat sunk into him.

“I’m sorry I worried you,” you whispered into the dark. His hold around you tightened for but a moment at your admission.

“Don’t you dare apologize,” he hushed back, “I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“What do you mean?”

He took a deep breath, “I should have given you more cover fire, you were outnumbered. I shouldn’t have fed from you the night before a battle. I should have had a bloody potion to save you… It’s my fault you got hurt,” he confessed.

“Oh, my love,” you breathed, “It’s not your fault. It could never be your fault. It was just bad luck, please don’t do this to yourself,” you clutched his shirt as his breath hitched beneath you.

“Astarion listen to me,” your voice was stern, yet soft, “No one had healing supplies, it was not your responsibility alone. And I feed you because I love you and can’t stand the thought of you going hungry. It’s my decision, my choice, and my fault. Don’t you dare blame yourself for today.”

You felt him nod above you, silently agreeing with your conviction. He took a moment to compose himself, the day’s events overwhelming him at your insistent tone.

“I love you too,” he whispered, leaning down to plant a kiss on the crown of your head. You sighed in relief, melting into his embrace. “Now get some sleep darling, you’re much too assertive for the day you’ve had.”

You huff a soft laugh, glad to see a sliver of his charm shine through. But he’s right, your outburst did little to stave off the ache in your bones. You settle against Astarion, content to sleep in his hold, knowing that whatever the next day brings he will be right there beside you.

---

Author's Notes: So I've never actually published a fic before. I've been reblogging/lurking from this page for like two years. I've been writing since I was young, but I never finish anything. Who knows, maybe I'll keep going. Let me know what you thought (critique greatly appreciated) and if you made it this far thank you so much I hope you enjoyed!!! :)

[italoniponic]

Dear Freckles | Rook Hunt

Synopsis: When you have to help Rook clean his face, you finally discover that he has freckles underneath his foundation. It was simple but also a very nice little detail about him. One of a lot of reasons why you loved him.

Rook Hunt x gender neutral reader / established relationship / fluff / mention of science club / 750 words / use of “you” pronouns 

Notes: The problem when some mutuals love a character is that you slowly understand why that character torments them night and day. In this specific case, I'm looking directly at you @pandoa dear! Dedicated to you <3 Hope you all enjoy this short story! 

Dear Freckles

“How are you, lovely Trickster? I hope you don’t mind but this humble hunter is seeking your services at the moment. How can I say this? I’m in trouble,” Rook said, his chuckle soft like the song of a nightingale in the morning.

You would’ve laughed along if he wasn’t covered head to toe by a strange and unknown liquid, recently dismissed from the Science Club day’s activities. It was by chance that you met your boyfriend in the hallway.

But, maybe, it was actually really fate. Probably because he was at risk of being attacked in Pomefiore before he could step foot in the dorm state — and you couldn’t even blame them for this. In that moment, Rook was the stamp face of dirtiness, despite his own good humor. 

As you two took shelter in a bathroom that was rarely used in the castle’s tower, Rook told you about the experience he was conducting at the club and the fantastic yellow explosion it caused.

He went on a narration detailed enough that you could almost see the scene as if you were there. Though, honestly, that was making it difficult to help clean his clothes and face without you constantly breaking into chuckles. And Rook didn’t even understand why you wanted to stay stoic-ish like that.

Were you trying to reprimand him for being a dreamy scientist? He was just a little curious by nature. Science knows no limits to the imagination. And, last but not least, you looked much prettier with a free, big smile playing on your lips.

At one point, you both sat down on the floor — shiny and clean, just like the room around — and you continued with the hour-long task of running wet cloth over Rook’s face to remove the yellow liquid remains. 

Surprise surely hit you when a bit of his skin foundation came off along with it. Lucky for you, he kept his eyes closed, leaving you alone to enjoy the fascination of the moment.

Underneath the yellow liquid and hidden by one of Twisted Wonderland’s best skincare products were some freckles. You swallowed hard to complete your work until his face was completely clean. Every passing second you discovered new spots in Rook’s cheekbones that were splattered with the natural ink of the Hunt family’s genes. 

Nothing but small freckles, yet it gave Rook a special touch that you had never imagined he could have. And you already thought him to be the most handsome man in the whole world.

You were brave enough to throw hands with a combo attack of Vil and Neige’s fans if you had to!

Perhaps the discovery was the greatest advocate for the intensity of your fascination. You wondered how long it would take before you found out that Rook had other secrets beneath his surface. At the same time, taking things slow seemed more fun and productive. You would have more time to enjoy each little revelation as if it were the most important thing of your day. 

You could play around comparing and imagining two or more versions of Rook in your head, all to come to the inevitable conclusion that you loved him in every possible way. Any and every Rook was your Rook. 

“Trickster? Any problem?,” the boy in question suddenly inquired, still with his eyes closed.

However, you had a feeling that Rook could see better beyond your momentary pause than if he was with his eyes wide open.

“Nothing, mon cher,” you replied, glad the use of French had melted and distracted him soon enough. Always worked just fine. “Um, actually... Rook?”

“Oui?,” Rook opened his eyes and smiled.

But his gaze grew in surprise when you suddenly held his face in your hands. A delicate and careful gesture, full of devotion. It no longer seemed right for any of you to simply act as if all that was nothing.

“I just want to say that… you’re very handsome. In any way and shape. I’m glad the Beautiful Queen is dead, or I would have to duel with her to have your heart, o’ handsomest of all,” you declared, gallantly.

You felt a little embarrassed to put those thoughts into words, but Rook’s smile didn’t fail to elicit in you a giggle. He held your hand and kissed the back of your palm, invigorated by your sudden surge of romanticism, feeling a little warm in his freckled face himself.

“And you’re all that I’ve been wishing most, my amour.”

Special Notes: I’m wishing~ for the one I love~ my trickster~ my dear~ Ok Rook. Now get out of my head!! And remember, Savana Rook and Pome Rook are just two sides of the same coin. It’s just a matter of outfits at this point, so pls love him dearly. If not for him, for me!

[chrollohearttags]

love thy neighbor • r. sukuna

(Y/N) moves into an apartment complex on the other side of town and winds up living right next door to one of the most notorious drug dealers in the city nonetheless! But looks can be deceiving…

📝: black!fem plus size reader, plug!sukuna, age gap (6 years or so) mentions of toxic relationship and baby trapping, religious trauma, anxiety, alcohol + drug use, comfort + fluff and angst to smut, missionary, prone bone, oral sex, reader cries during, daddy is used a couple times, size difference, lots of kissing, positive affirmations, creampie

wc: 3.0K

🎙️: I swear imma get back to posting regularly! I’m just being lazy and hating my writing rn (it sucks) 😭 but I hope y’all enjoy

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you didn’t know what to expect when you found yourself residing on the same floor as plug!sukuna..it was your first time living on your own. Fresh out of your parents’ house with minimal belongings and all of the savings you had managed to scrounge over the years. Enough to cover first and last month’s rent with some extra left over..working as a receptionist in a local doctors office by day and offering online tutoring services at night to suffice your income. You'd return home from your shift, ready to relax by at least eight o clock..meanwhile, plug!sukuna was just beginning his night. Heading out into the streets to do God knows what until the early morning hours. But he’d never leave until he’d done two things: said hello and made sure that you were straight. You never really understood the logic behind it..especially considering the fact that you weren’t exactly close friends or even acquaintances beforehand. Hell, he didn’t know you at all and yet, he was just as kind as an old lady bringing you cookies to welcome you to the neighboorhood.

nonetheless, plug!sukuna would always tell you “..keep that door locked, don’t answer that shit for nobody and call me if you need anything, aight?” his deep voice was the last voice you’d heard for the evening and the first when you awoke in the morning. Sometimes, he’d even bring you breakfast per your request and you’d eat together. You’d cut off all ties to your controlling, religious fanatic family and the narcissistic ex who’d all but attempted to stick you with a kid you didn’t want and turn you into his personal doll…trapped inside of the house with no purpose other than to serve him. It was the way all of the men in your former faith operated. But you weren’t interested. Not in the slightest. In fact, you wanted change so drastic, it’d make their goddamn heads spin! Over time, you’d grow closer to plug!sukuna. His second long check ins and warnings became full blown conversations as the two of you congregated downstairs in the pool area or at the mailbox for a cup of coffee. A cigarette dangling from his fingertips to go light once he went outside.

“I know this place seems nice and all from first glance but…imma let you in on a lil’ secret, baby. It’s all types of people who come here..looking for trouble and hell, I’m not gonna lie to you. I’m part of the reason. That’s why I tell you to keep your door locked. Your pretty ass answers for the wrong person and somebody is bound to try and take advantage. ‘Damn shame I’d have to fuck someone up if something were to happen to you..”

plug!sukuna was sweet and endearing in his own right. But that’s what drew you into him..he was the very antithesis to what you knew men to be. Brutally honest yet so empathetic to your feelings. Rough as hell around the edges but a total gentleman. He may have done horrible things but he was a good guy..the best damn one you’d ever met. Unbeknownst to him, you’d watch him from the window leaving out; others surrounding him in the parking lot in similar cars. Blacked out with tinted windows..doing sleight of hand to pass something to other tenants who you’d recognized. Only what you could assume to be drugs. A couple of the guys you’d recognized from church, talking to deacons and pastors..now it’d all made so much more sense. Even so, plug!sukuna kept you out of that part of his life as much as possible. Eventually, some months would pass and it was a secret to no one that you’d grown quite fond of him..damn near smitten even.

however, plug!sukuna was adamant on not taking it there with you! He’d admitted himself that you were beautiful and in another life, any other circumstances..he wouldn’t hesitate to make you his. The problem was, you were still too vulnerable and he was knee deep in a lifestyle he wanted you to steer clear from. You were healing from years of trauma and downright abuse..trying to navigate this world on your own. If he were any other scumbag, he could have easily sucked you into his world and had you out here doing his bidding.

“(Y/N) baby..do you know how many girls just like you..who leave bad situations and end up in worse ones because some nasty motherfucker saw how vulnerable they were and used that to their advantage? How many girls went from being in the church to being on their knees for some pimp? I care too much ‘bout you to let that happen. I’m no good for you, I swear. You’d only end up hurt because I can’t give you all of me. Shit, I can’t even promise I’d make a good boyfriend. I’m selfish as hell, I’m always gone..I’ve slept with more women than I can remember. What could you possibly want with somebody like me, huh? What could I possibly do for you, (y/n)?”

but you saw right through plug!sukuna’s facade. He was gentle at heart..a romantic even. He wanted his person to spoil and adore just as much as you did. The streets were his only love for most of his life. He’d seen many things but nothing quite like you..those round, doe eyes; so innocent and pure. Pouty lips, chubby cheeks and the soft, ringlet curls that surrounded that gorgeous face. That soft, plump body and those thighs that rubbed together when you walked away. He wanted to devour you whole sometimes..many nights had plug!sukuna lied in his bed next door, thinking of you being on top of him. Those perky breasts jiggling as he bounced you up and down on his cock. Those nails clawed at his chest as sweat poured down his skin. But those thoughts were far too lewd and disgusting for someone like you! He was ashamed of even having them. But he couldn’t help himself..especially when that sweet, airy voice all but begged him to take you.

“Because I love you, Ryo..I love everything about you. Even the bad shit. I don’t care what you do because it’s not who you are..you’re the man that brings me food and coffee in the morning so I don’t have to rush before work. You’re the man who kisses my forehead when he leaves because you know, deep down..it could be the last time I see you. You’re the man who calls me every time he hears a gunshot or sirens because he worries himself sick about me when I’m not near him. You carry my laundry baskets and groceries, you clean my apartment while I’m sleeping because I’m too tired. And not once have you ever tried to touch me. You never made me repay you with sex or anything. You could easily hurt me and you can’t even bring yourself to raise your voice, even when I’m dead fucking wrong. No one has ever cared about me that much, boyfriend or otherwise and I don’t give a damn if you sell drugs or blow up buildings. A man who’d do all of that for me and never asks for anything in return is exactly who I want.”

plug!sukuna found himself dumbstruck for the first time in a long time..standing there with your small hand cradling his chiseled jaw, tears streaming down your face, he’d find that his own eyes were welling and burning. He’d never heard anyone speak about him in such a way. “Damn, I guess you can read me like a book.” Hell, he’d never acted that way with anyone else either. Yet here he was, treating you like a princess. He couldn’t pretend anymore..he had to be honest with you..and himself.

“I—I love you too, (y/n). So much..”

“Then make me yours. Right now..right here.”

“you know once we do this, we can’t go back..”

“Please..leaving the past behind is kind of my thing.”

it didn’t take long for your lips to meet in a fiery haze, tongues intertwined in a moment of heated bliss. Your hands roaming one another’s bodies as moans slipped through..your clothes all but becoming discarded heaps on the living room floor like a movie scene cliche. His lips traced from your neck to your collarbone; slightly dredging his teeth along the skin in the process.

“Here, baby..take my hand.” plug!sukuna, in one fell swoop hoisted you into his arms as if you weighed practically next to nothing. Continuing to feed you those slow kisses, he’d carry you to a nearby wall and part your thighs. With your legs resting on his shoulders, he’d mark every inch of you. From your sensitive nipples which he cradled in his mouth to that pudgy tummy he loved so much to that juicy center, which was practically leaking for him.

“This all me? Just from some kissing?..” “This is nothing. I touch myself every night thinking about you..you should see the mess I make then.” plug!sukuna could barely sate his urges now, hearing how nasty this supposedly innocent girl was for him! He wasted no time slithering his tongue into that aching cunt. Swirling it around on that throbbing clit, spitting into those pretty pink folds and those succulent brown lips encasing them. He feasted like a man unhinged; greedy and selfish as fuck, just like he claimed. You’d grasp a hold of those dark reddish and black locks, grinding yourself into his face. Rubbing his nose in between your slit.

“Mmmph! Ryo…” “Yeah, fuck my face. Don’t hold back now. You don’t know how long I’ve been waiting to do this.”

plug!sukuna would eat your pussy until he heard you sobbing and felt that orgasm come barreling out. Your tight hole spasming on air as those juices trickled down his throat, chest and mouth. He couldn’t help but to laugh as he watched you writhe in pleasure. Attempting to push him away as you rode out that orgasm.

“Wha—how did you?—“ “What? I told you..I’ve had a lot of practice.” Choosing to omit the fact that he’d fantasized about you sitting on his face more times than he could count. Tossing you a wink and one final lick before carting you over to the sofa. Where he laid you down gently against the cushions…pinning those legs back whilst hovering over you. The entire time, he couldn’t take his gaze away from those gorgeous eyes..they glimmered so bright. Full of lust, adoration and excitement. No matter how much you smiled, he always sensed a certain emptiness behind them. A light stolen from you and now, he hoped to reignite it.

observing your movements, plug!sukuna began to chuckle when he saw you pawing at his crotch. So eager to unsheathe that hard on from his boxers. He could tell that the shy, bashful demeanor you presented was only a front. If given the opportunity, he could turn you into his personal slut with ease..but for now, he wanted to focus solely on making love to you. Giving you every part of him that he’d long to for months now. You’d examine his chiseled torso, reaching up to caress his abs and trace your fingertips along his various tattoos. But you couldn’t distract yourself from how large that bulge was..protruding and leaking with precum…

“Can I?—“ Go ahead, baby..take it out.” And without hesitation, you’d tug that elastic waistband back and let it spring forth. He was so girthy and long. Clean shaven and although he was erect now, you could tell he was huge even when flaccid. Nonetheless, plug!sukuna grasped those thick thighs of yours and mounted in between them; gliding that aching tip along your folds. ”Now you tell me if it hurts, okay baby? If I see you flinch or look uncomfortable, I’m pulling the fuck out. We clear?” And you knew when he spoke, that was law. Nodding in agreement, you’d consent to his terms as you rubbed your folds, waiting for him.

“Good..and tap my arm if you can’t talk. I’m ‘bout to start moving. You ready?” with your permission, he’d glide in slowly and immediately, he thought he’d seen stars! Plug!sukuna, by his own volition, had been with countless girls. From strippers to models, but never had he felt pussy this tight! The warmth immediately cradling him and not letting go. He’d suck his teeth before muttering a single ‘fuck’ under his breath. You were going to be some pressure, he was certain of it. But he’d continue on, gathering his footing and working that cock into your entrance. A single pop, along with wet, squishing sounds rang out across that living room as you lie underneath him.

“Goddamn…your shit feels incredible, baby. I know you had some good pussy..I can tell just by looking at you.” Forcing a wide, toothy smile on your face. You’d never heard him talk so vulgar but it was the side you’d brought out. He was officially obsessed!

“Yeah? Well I’ve been wanting to give it to for so long..I never thought you’d fuck me..”

“I kept you waiting, huh? I’m sorry..guess it just means we gotta make up for lost time then, huh?”

plug!sukuna was thrilled to know that he’d no longer have to hold back because you were on the same wavelength. You’d have no issues matching his energy..so with that, he’d speed up those thrusts. Pounding you with gentle but well paced strokes. The sound of your thighs and skin slamming together, coupled with the sounds of both your moans, made for a beautiful chorus. Your hands around his neck, scratching at his back; legs around his waist and his muscular arms planted right at your sides. Drilling you just as you’d requested and there was no limits between the two of you.

“Yes! Keep fucking meeee..oh my goodness. I’m gonna come again!”

“You’re so fucking cute..damn..” adoring how you sounded squealing and laughing as you met his thrusts. He couldn’t believe how receptive you were and how it took no time at all for you to open up.

“And you look so pretty taking all this dick for daddy. I can’t stop staring at you.” That deep voice showering you with praise as his thick cock thrashed around your insides. Even though you had always been a bigger girl, he made you feel so dainty and small..like a precious treasure he never wanted to lose. “You deserve this, baby..to get fucked just like this. To be spoiled and get whatever you want. I can put you up..you ain’t ever gotta worry about shit. Not a bill, not rent, your family..I got you, baby. I promise. I love you..” You believed every single word and clung to them with every fiber you had. You’d never had anyone treat you with such grace and care before..and that wasn’t the end. He’d continue doting. Telling you how proud he was of you and how far you'd come. How he admired your strength to get out of your situation…he was in awe. plug!sukuna would continue singing your praises until he looked up and spotted tears coming down your face. He was tempted to stop until you told him that you were just fine. He on the other hand..was struggling to maintain his stamina.

“No no..please don’t stop. You just make me feel so good. No one has ever fucked me like this.”

but that alone seemed to ignite a second wind and in a moment of haste, you’d find yourself flipped over into your stomach with his entire body weight shifted on top of you.

“You mean that, baby?” Those outer fangs of his teeth glistening and mouth slicked with saliva as he began pounding you once more..hands pinned to your back and his frame covering your own. The plumpness of that ass ricocheting off of him as he penetrated those walls. You’d come once again, dripping onto the leather couch and making that aforementioned mess he’d been dying to see. This time, his pace was rougher..less structured and sporadic. He couldn’t help it..he was running on pure fumes, trying to give you the first time experience you deserved. Tugging your head back by those thick curls, plug!sukuna fed you the deeper strokes he could muster until those chocolate eyes rolled back.

“Y-yes! This dick is amazing..”

“Tell me who it belongs to. Who’s this good pussy belong to now?”

“Y-you, daddy. It’s yours! Oh fuck..”

never having uttered such lewd words in your entire life, you reveled in the fact that he had been the one to bring this side out. And now, you were about to bring a side out of him. One far more vulnerable than the public witnessed..one that would beg you to let him come inside of you and cry out your name in sweet ecstasy as he did so. You’d feel those warm seeds pouring into your womb as he came to a halt and you welcomed them. plug!sukuna didn’t hesitate to swaddle you in his arms for kisses and comfort.

“I don’t want this to end..tell me it doesn’t have to, Ryo. Can we be this way forever?”

“We can stay like this for as long as you want, baby. I’m not going anywhere.“

and it was a promise he intended to keep. Not just as your neighbor or the guy next door looking over you. But now, as your lover and the man who’d never leave your side.

[cherry-coffees]

Silk Ribbons and Captured Hearts

Caitlyn x girly girl!reader

cw: 2K words | no warnings, just Caitlyn and her lovely femme <3

-----------------

Caitlyn is infatuated with you.

Your relationship with Caitlyn is somewhere on the line between acquaintances and friends, running in the same high circles. Your family, much like the Kirammans, is respected and known within Piltover. You've met Caitlyn on many occasions: galas, banquets, other fancy events your parents had dragged you to. 

Most of your time spent together had come from conversing casually at events, or during council meetings whenever you both had been waiting for your parents to finish their work. You’re a few years younger than Caitlyn, so she had offered to help you with any work you had been doing at Piltover Academy. You were a good student as well, matching her intellect. Caitlyn, despite trying to focus on your homework, would find her gaze drawn to you. Watching your eyes light up whenever you talked about something you were interested in, a small, unconscious smile gracing your lips, had easily captivated her.

That was when you were both younger, though. Now, she can't help but take notice of the beautiful woman you had become. All short skirts and fitted tops, sundresses and carefully chosen accessories, you’re like a warm sunbeam that Caitlyn can’t draw her eyes away from. 

It all starts with Caitlyn going shopping in the main streets of Piltover, and she steps into a local boutique filled with cute clothes and handmade jewelry. It's not really her style, but her eyes catch on a stand filled with silk ribbon, and it reminds her of the ribbons you occasionally wear in your hair. And oh, you'd just look so pretty in that shade of purple and-

She leaves with three of them.

A few days later, you’re at a statue unveiling of some old general in Piltover’s army, and Caitlyn sees you again. And fuck you just look so pretty in your white maxi skirt and cropped tank that shows off just a hint of midriff, and Caitlyn can’t stop staring. She finally gets herself together, glancing down at the lavender silk ribbon in her hand. Should she give it to you now? Should she wait? What if you didn’t like it? Worse, what if you don’t like her even after figuring out she’s smitten with you?

Caitlyn immediately clams up, deciding it’s better to give it to you anonymously. She darts off to the area where everyone’s bags and coats are under the guise of finding something she had forgotten in her bag. Once there, she grabs a notepad from her own bag and writes a note:

I thought this would look lovely on you. 

Yours,

Anonymous 

After attaching it to the ribbon and quietly slipping back into the crowd, Caitlyn can’t really focus on the ceremony. She tries, she really does, but the sound of your casual laughter in conversation unwillingly draws her attention. She also tries not to eye you when you politely make conversation with Caitlyn’s own parents, but, well, she’s long since given up on that one. Maybe she’ll have better self-control in the future.

______

Any thoughts of self-control die the moment you step into the coffee shop where Caitlyn is sitting with Jayce. Because you’re just so beautiful, wearing some lavender sundress and sandals and holy shit is that-?

Caitlyn’s mouth goes dry at the sight of the silky lavender ribbon in your hair — the one she had bought for you — tied around two pigtails hold your hair half-up. She can’t tear her eyes away, even as you step up to order and smile brightly at the barista. So much so that Jayce turns around to see what she’s looking at before turning back to her with a puzzled expression. “Uh, Cait? You good?”

She snaps her jaw shut, nodding tightly. “Yeah,” she lets her eyes linger on you for a second longer. “Everything’s perfectly fine.”

Jayce glances in your direction once again before a knowing smile dawns on his face. “Oh,” he turns back to Caitlyn, eyes smug and teasing. “You like-"

“Shut up,” Caitlyn hisses, glaring deeply at him, half because she doesn’t want you to overhear this and half because she doesn’t want Jayce to have another thing to hold over her. 

Jayce just raises his eyebrows, taking a sip of tea as if waiting for her to explain.

Caitlyn just sighs, glancing down at her own pristine teacup. “I- how can I not?” She mumbles, glancing at you. “She’s, well…perfect.”

________

And because you just had to go and look so ridiculously, effortlessly, beyond gorgeous in the lavender ribbon, of course Caitlyn has to go and buy five other colors. Because who is Caitlyn if not willing to spend her seemingly endless amounts of money on the little things her love crush likes. A tiny part of her also preens at seeing you so happy to wear something she gave you, as if she’s subtly showing everyone that you’re hers. But she’d never admit to that, of course.

And every time she manages to slip you a ribbon, she leaves another tiny note.

These suit you so much, I thought it would be a shame not to have more.

I think this color will look so nice with your hair.

Please take these ribbons as my way of telling you how beautiful you are.

Your ribbon collection continues to build: baby pink, forest green, crimson red, the lightest grey that reminds you of clouds on a cozy winter morning. You smile every time you find a new one in your bag, keeping the notes safely tucked away in a small box in your closet. You read them from time to time, gently tracing a finger over the words as if you can feel the affection they convey. 

Experimentally, with all this ribbon, you don’t confine it to just your hair. You tie it around your ankle, thinking it looks cute (Caitlyn agrees, smiles way too long when she sees it on you in passing). Then, around your wrists: a pair of bows. And when you show up at her house to drop off something from your family to the Kirammans, Caitlyn’s eyes go wide when she catches sight of the ribbon carefully tied around your upper thigh — just peeking out from the short skirt you’re wearing. 

Holy fucking shit is all Caitlyn manages to register in her mind. She doesn’t pay attention to whatever you’re talking about with her mother. She just pays attention to the gift she gave you, a symbol of her, tied around your thigh. She’s highly tempted to step forward and grab the end of it, untying it just to replace it with her hand and squeeze-

Pull yourself together.

And she does, barely. Manages to mumble out a few weak words as you depart, missing the smug smile that graces your features as you turn to leave. Misses the way you turn a little faster than necessary so your skirt spins and she gets another view of the ribbon wrapped around your thigh. You leave, Cassandra goes on with her business, and all is normal again.

You’re a strong presence in Caitlyn’s dreams that night.

______

And then one day, there’s a knock on Caitlyn’s office door, and she calls an official-sounding “come in” only for you to enter. Caitlyn stands up a little too quickly, clearing her throat and straightening her uniform. She moves out from behind her desk to face you. “This is- uh- a surprise,” Caitlyn murmurs, eyes flitting to the navy blue ribbon laced through your high ponytail, your hair half up. She’s sure she hasn’t bought you a navy ribbon yet.

“My father sent me to ask if the gala for your mother’s birthday next week will still be in your ballroom?” You ask, shifting nervously. It’s a simple question, one that you don’t really need an answer to.

Luckily, Caitlyn is too distracted to notice. She just blinks, forcing her mouth to move. “Um, right. Yes, it’s going to be held there.”

You nod, your eyes locked with her piercing blue ones. “Okay. Yeah. Sorry for the interruption, I just happened to be nearby and he, uh, wanted to know.”

Even still, Caitlyn only half registers your weak excuse. Her eyes narrow at the ribbon. It’s different than the silky ones she’s bought you: thinner and less shiny. So, instead of formulating one of her usual, sensible responses to you, she can’t help but let her curiosity spill out. “Your ribbon.”

“My-" you touch your hair lightly. “My ribbon?”

“Where is it from?” She asks, flatly. For the past weeks, the only ribbon you've been wearing has been the ones she's been giving you. Was this an old one of yours? Did you buy it recently? Or is it from someone else? Something in her chest tightens at the last idea.

She’s not prepared for the smile you flash her. “Well” you sigh, tilting your head a little as if the answer is obvious. “I thought that since my anonymous gifter keeps buying me ribbon, I should have one in her color.”

…

Wait.

It takes a second of blank staring before Caitlyn’s jaw drops. “You-" she stumbles in her wording — an extremely rare occasion she’s been taught to avoid. But all her composure is lost with you.

“Me,” your smile holds a hint of satisfaction that Caitlyn kind of just wants to scream at. Or kiss off your face. Either one.

“You knew?!” Her tone is incredulous, like she’s been so secretive that she can’t conceive how you found out she was the one gifting you these ribbons. “How?!”

“First of all, I know your handwriting. Remember how you gave me corrections on my schoolwork when we were younger and our parents had council meetings?”

“I-" Caitlyn stutters, a hue of pink dusting her cheeks. 

“And second,” you continue, not quite done. “You haven’t been very subtle about it. You seem to forget something in your bag at every event we’re at together, and then the ribbon happens to appear in mine after you come back.”

Caitlyn’s quiet for a few moments. “Oh.”

You smile. "Yeah, oh."

Caitlyn's blue eyes meet your own, devoid of her usual composure to show her slight nerves. "So...?" her voice is almost anxious.

"So," you repeat, gently reaching up to touch the navy ribbon in your hair again. The one that perfectly matches her navy Enforcer's uniform she's wearing right now. "I wore this...for you."

Caitlyn takes a shaky breath, heart pounding. "Does that mean-?"

She's cut off by your soft lips against her own. Your kiss is gentle and chaste, just a peck, and she barely has enough time to process what's happening before you pull away. "I like you," you say, your smile turning shy.

Caitlyn blinks at you, dazed. She's normally always so in command, so in control of her every action — whether that's in her Enforcer duties or her sharpshooting competitions or just her life in general — but with you, all hope of control always seems to fade. 

She steps even closer to you, gently reaching out a hand to trail along your cheek. "I like you too," she murmurs, and this time, you fear you're the one that's losing your composure because her gaze looks so loving and tender that it makes your cheeks burn. 

And when Caitlyn kisses you again, deeper this time, you allow yourself to sigh against her lips. She kisses you as if you're something fragile, something to be treasured and cared for. And you know, in that moment, that she'll do anything for you.  That, if you asked for the moon, she'd personally find away to fly amongst the stars to take it for you. 

"Are you mine?" Caitlyn asks the second she pulls away with a gentle nip to your bottom lip that makes you shiver. 

"I always have been," you mumble, letting yourself bury your face in her shoulder to hide your flushed cheeks. 

And Caitlyn just smiles, her arms snaking around your waist to pull you against her chest. "That's all I could ever ask for, darling."

[sugarcanesweetheart]

Snoopy and Twin Peaks

[softaestluv]

John Price who has a chubby wife— loves his chubby wife, in fact. Thinks the more fat on a woman the better.

Chubby wife whom he keeps all to himself. Not because he isn’t proud to have you by his side. If anything he loves taking you to his work events so you can get all dolled up. Keeps a firm grip around your waist all night, quite possessive of you he is, but he also enjoys feeling the fat of your hip cave under his large palm. Watching the supple flesh spill between his fingertips in the soft fabric.

You hate the way your belly shows in all the dresses you have to wear for these events, but god, John couldn’t love it more. Traces his eyes over the chubby little bump in the material. Loves that he can see the silhouette, how the fabric pulls taut at your curves.

Or your breasts, round and heavy. Cleavage seeping from the tight confines of the material. Poor girl can’t help it when they’re that big, no top can seem to hide them. Distracts him all too often when people are trying to talk to him and all he can focus on is the deep slope of your breasts.

And your ass, wide and curved. Jiggles with every step you take, enjoys watching you walk in front of him just as much as he prefers you tight by his side. Practically foams at the mouth when your dress is short enough so he can see the back of your thighs. Has to will his boner away when he can see the shadows of cellulite that decorate the backs of them.

Irritation burns his throat when his sergeants approach you, try to charm you the best they can. You’re too sweet to explicitly ignore them or shush them away, but that’s what you had him for, why he was so bloody protective of you. Would have thought that his sergeants would respect their captain and not drag their eyes over his girls figure. Though, he couldn’t blame them when you looked like that. Who wouldn’t look? He couldn’t take his own eyes off you.

Enjoys the sharp inhale you make when he pulls your back against his chest, leans his head close to you and asks if this muppet is bothering you, darling?

Loud enough for the other man to hear, but John doesn’t even bat him an eye, keeps his eyes trained on you. Revels in the fact that you press your self deeper into his touch, slotting your ass closer to his hips. The man always excuses himself with a quiet ‘my apologies, sir’ but John doesn’t even care, really. Too focused on his pretty girl to pay attention to anyone else.

He always leaves these events too early, especially for a captain. Should probably stay later than most considering his rank, but he can’t help himself. Staring at you for just a couple hours in a pretty little dress without burying his cock inside you is almost unbearable.

Truthfully, a quickie in a closet or spare room might suffice, has taken you away from these parties just to return shortly with a new hickey adorned on your neck and his cum dripping down your thighs. But a quickie is never enough, not sufficient enough for John.

John’s body is burly, grooved into protruding muscles, smoothed over with a layer of fat and thick curly tufts of brown hair. Sinewy muscles and meaty, pure strength.

And you.

Well you are chubby, soft and round. Pretty doe eyes encased between plump cheeks. The perfect delicacy for him to melt into.

Being captain comes with its stresses, especially at his age. Pieces of his patience are shaved away with each passing day. His back aches, knees popping everytime he squats, temples pulsing terribly behind his eyelids. He’s sore most days than not, irritated and tired behind his desk. Moronic and insolent sergeants ruining him to his wits end.

It’s draining ordering those around who will not listen. But his sweet chubby wife, you, make up for it. Quite obedient you are, never has to tell you twice. Perfect acquiescence entangled in each little dimple on your flesh.

Coming home to you is easy. Hoisting your plush thighs either side of his head is even easier. Melting his aches and pains away with his face buried in your cunt. You tend to be hesitant sitting on his face, nervous that you will squish him to death. It’s cliche, but he mumbles refusals to you one too many times.

Nonsense, darling he wishes to be smothered by you, couldn’t have a better place to be.

It’s the truth, savors the image of you above him. Bulge of your belly pressed to his nose, breasts plump and heavy, drooped low, so he can see your nipples, pert and rosy. Thighs thick and suffocating around his face, pretty little mewls muffled to his ears by your flesh. Soft fat blocking his view of your face, can only get a glimpse of it if you angle your head a certain way. Something he usually would not appreciate, but he enjoys the expanse of your skin just as much.

Spends his time between your thighs, makes you cum on his tongue several times before he’s pleased enough. Keeps his large palm fisted around his cock while he does so because the taste of your arousal is just as addicting as your fat. Could finish like that, sat atop him, cum on his lips. Has before, but you do not prefer it that way. Sweet as you are, you are quite greedy, or maybe he has just spoiled you too much. Always want him to stuff you full of him.

And he does, without a second thought because your pussy feels even better wrapped around his cock than his tongue. It’s only fair that you match him, puffy and swollen cunt compares to his fat cock.

It’s a tight fit after all, but you can take it, can’t you, sweetheart?

Transfixed on your curves, the way your belly squishes together when he bends your legs back. Rolls smushed, breasts spilling to your sides from the weight of them. Each thrust is like a cascading wave, watches it ripple over your body, fat jiggling softly. He can never spend nearly enough time grazing your flesh, wishes to sink his teeth into every inch of fat until it’s all his.

He likes being pressed above you, fucking you messy into the sheets, but he thinks he likes you on top just as much. Weighed down under your heavy body as you ride him. Finds too much pleasure watching your chubby thighs try to fuck yourself on his length, legs shaking from exhaustion, whining weakly as you paw at his chest. Beg him to fuck you, that you simply can’t lift yourself any longer, can’t smash his fattened tip against the right spot.

What’s wrong, sweetheart? He’ll drawl, palming at your breasts, Can’t make yourself cum, huh? Come on, use those thick thighs of yours.

And you do try. He spoils you, but teasing you is just as satisfying. Enjoys watching you struggle to make yourself cum until tears are welling in your lashes and all you can do is rut your hips against his.

He gives in eventually, flipping the two of you around. Folds you how he pleases because even through it all he can still carry you easily. Fucks you the way you want, the way you deserve after being subject to his torment for so long.

Though it’s not just sexual gratification. You’re always warm and so soft. His worries seem to dissolve under your touch, snuggled tightly around you. Harden edges melt into your plush flesh, face buried between your breasts more often than not when lying together. Pulls you atop him, the heavy weight welcomed, grounds him of sorts. Even if his breath does become strained, you lull him to sleep.

He’ll wake up to the both of you sweaty and clammy, struggling to adequately fill his lungs with air, but he only pulls you closer, not quite ready to leave the confines of his girl.

[sweetmelodygraphics]

I don't know what happened to the ask but I'm pretty sure someone asked for some pink dividers.

[cosmicalily]

"pilates princess" a changbin oneshot by @cosmicalily

author's note: i was talking to @thevampywolf this morning about how there's a proper lack of changbin fluff fics on tumblr atm and i decided to make it my mission of the day to change that! i absolutely love binnie, he's the silliest, sweetest guy and i was thinking of how to blend his gym obsession with his adorable personality, and a (very much so in love) pilates princess was born!!

Seo Changbin did not have time for girls.

According to his roommate, Han Jisung, his one and only true love was the gym, where he spent almost every spare second of his day. His diet consisted of protein powder, chicken breasts, green smoothies and instant ramen. He only drank cold brews with absolutely no sugar, because he couldn’t stand sweet things. 

He was pretty quiet and some would say intimidating. Didn’t say a lot, didn’t do a lot.

But now, watching you, he felt something different. He felt strange. He felt soft.

Changbin looked over at you curiously from the bench press, pausing to catch his breath for a moment as you stretched your body like a cat, toes pointed, shoulders straight.

Dressed in a pale pink sports bra with a matching long-sleeved ballet wrap and black leggings, to say you looked a little out of place in a predominantly male gym was an understatement. Your hair was pulled back with a ribbon, a sticker-decorated water bottle by the side of your mat and an iced milky-green drink beside it.

You breathed slowly, stretching your arms forward and touching your toes before sitting straight, cocking your head at your one-man audience.

“Why are you watching me?” you wrinkled your nose in disgust, self-consciously placing a hand over your chest. “I’m here for the exact same reason as you, it’s not my fault the girls’ dorms don’t have a gym.”

Changbin flushed. “I’m sorry. It probably seemed creepy, fuck, it’s not, I promise. I’m just . . . curious. What were you doing? I’ve never seen anyone exercise like that. Everyone who comes in either beats the shit out of the boxing bag or lifts.”

“Pilates,” you smiled, looking less uncomfortable. “I got my instructing licence a bit ago, but the place I teach at is only open in the mornings. So if I’ve had an early class or lecture and want to work out in the afternoon, I have to come here. Trust me, I wouldn’t be here voluntarily. You guys are gross.”

He pouted. “I’m not. I’m cute.” 

“Yeah, sure you are, princess,” you chuckled, taking a sip from the green drink. You noticed him looking at it. “It’s matcha, do you want some?”

“Fuck no, my friend said that tastes like grass,” Changbin shook his head furiously.

You laughed at him, inching the cup closer to him. “C’mon, try a sip. You’ll like this one, it’s sweet. I always get vanilla in it since I can’t stand bitter drinks.”

He very cautiously leaned forward, looking at you carefully in case you recoiled when he pressed his lips on the straw. You didn’t, seeming less and less shy by the second, watching him eagerly as he swallowed.

“...and the verdict is?” you prompted.

“Where can I get my own?”

Jisung looked around Changbin’s room in shock, eyes comically wide as he took in his surroundings. Sure, it had been a week while he’d been staying with his parents, but surely Changbin’s life hadn’t changed so . . . drastically? Or had he somehow been invaded by some kind of pink fairy?

A pale pink sports bra lay strewn on Changbin’s bed, accompanied by a pair of soft grey flared leggings and a drink bottle. There was a handbag too, with ribbons and cute fluffy keychains, all belongings that most certainly were not his. But there were slightly more permanent looking changes, too. A pink MyMelody sticker on Changbin’s previously pristine laptop. A little beaded bow charm on his duffle bag. Two polaroids pinned above his bed; one of a girl making a kissy face, another of her with Changbin, pinching his cheek as he beamed at her adoringly.

Did Seo Changbin have a girlfriend?

And why wasn’t she a black-donning, gym obsessed weirdo like he was?

“Oh hi, Ji, you’re back!” Changbin smiled wide, something that Jisung swore he had never seen in all his time being his roommate. Or at least, not for a very long time. But Changbin had a whole different air about him; his body, although still buff, didn’t seem as tense as it usually was. His brow wasn’t furrowed and there was colour in his cheeks. And, for the love of God, had he blow dried his hair?

Jisung smiled back. “Hey, Bin. What are you drinking? New protein powder?”

“It’s a vanilla matcha, you should try it,” he handed it to Jisung, who took a tentative sip then stared, open-mouthed in shock.

“That’s . . . sweet.”

“No shit,” Changbin laughed at him, thumping his friend on the back. “It’s good, right? Y/N introduced me to them.”

Jisung handed it back, still suspicious that the real Seo Changbin had been abducted and that the man in front of him was a secret twin. “Oh, nice. Is that her stuff in your room?”

“Sure is,” a sweet voice chuckled from behind Changbin. A petite girl flew through the door, wrapping her arms tight around Changbin’s waist. “I’m Y/N, Jisung. It’s nice to finally meet you! Binnie’s told me so much about you two.”

Jisung raised an eyebrow. “And you’re . . . ?”

“She’s my girlfriend,” Changbin said proudly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah, but he’s the babygirl. Everyone knows that,” you rolled your eyes playfully. “He’s a pilates princess now, Jisung, I’ve converted him. Surprised he wasn’t doing it earlier; it’s very him, you know.”

Jisung blinked slowly, taking in the sight in front of him.

“Seo Changbin? A princess?” he mumbled.

“Sure I am,” Changbin shrugged, and Jisung promptly fainted in shock.

[weewoo911]

So I wrote a little something loosely based on this post I made about Eddie subconsciously associating his future wedding as being with Buck- I haven't written for ages but I thought if I was gonna make it into a fic I'd also have an accidental drunk confession to Buck in there- and this is that. If I ever wrote a whole fic of this there'd be no cheating so dw dw

"It must be nice," Buck says from the floor, "Marr-Marriaging, -having a wedding. I want that, I'd want-"

"I know what you want," Eddie laughs confidently from the empty tub. It feels very zen, lying here with his legs hooked over the circular tub, like lying inside a big cereal bowl. He is so drunk, and giddy and totally at peace with everything, "You want a spring wedding because you want a frankly ridiculous amount of flowers. You want it far enough away from the city that you can see the stars at night, but not so far that it'd cost too much for everyone to travel there. You like the idea of releasing lanterns but you're worried about the environment so you'd probably want - like- doves or butterflies instead-"

"Butterflies," Buck says from the floor, his voice thick, "Eddie, what-"

"M'not finished," Eddie continues with the gravitas of someone so hammered they cant feel their legs but who is nevertheless making an Important Point, "Butterflies, then. You want a light coloured suit, something that breathes well because you'll worry about sweating. Bobby would be doing the ceremony, so maybe Athena to walk you down the aisle? And of course Maddie as your best man. Woman. Person."

"… Maddie?"

"Well yeah," Eddie shrugs, transfixed by how the ceiling seems to be slowly tilting to the side, "Because Chris would be mine, and that way they can both be involved."

There's a frantic shuffling noise from the floor, and Buck's voice is much clearer when he speaks again, "Eddie. Eddie are you talking about- me and you getting married?"

"Who else?" And in his alcohol-soaked state, it's as simple as that- who else. God knows he's tried to fit other people into that role and they just never fit right because the void in his life is so decisively Buck-shaped. Haha, God knows, his chest begins to shake with silent laughter, it's funny, right? Because of the Catholicism.

"And that's-" Buck sounds kind of upset, which makes Eddie pause, why would Buck be upset when there's good booze and the ceiling is tilting and they're getting married? "That's something you want- the-the spring wedding and the butterflies and the-"

Oh, Buck's simply misunderstood, that's easy.

"I just wanna be the guy standing next to you."

[ch3rryjampi3]

═════════•°•⚠️•°•═════════

"Katsuki, let's break up."

"Hah? Hell no. Not happening."

"What do you mean 'hell no'? I wanna break up with you cuz I can't stand you anymore."

"Then sit. Why were you standing anyways?"

"This is why!! You aren't taking my words seriously!!And our relationship...It's just- It's not working for me anymore..."

"Then I'll fucking fix it, I'll make it work."

"I don't know if you can... I don't even feel the chemistry we once had anymore."

"Then I'll use my fucking ass quirk to spark it up."

"...I can't face you no more what the actual fuck."

"Then turn around then dumbass."

"I hate you."

"I love you too."

"What is wrong with you."

"There's nothing wrong with me baby, I'm just obsessed with you."

"Your insane..."

"You make me insane. Everything you have, everything you do, just everything about you make me insane."

"Your ridiculous."

"And you love it."

▬▬ι══════════════ι▬▬

A/N: Hihi!! Sorry for suddenly disappearing, lifes tough lolss Anyways this was inspired by an ai text story in tiktok that came up to my fyp lmfaoo It gave me motivation to write another oneshot! Might edit this😓‼️

[peppermint-whiskers]

MIND WIPE AU UPDATE YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57598009/chapters/159895366

Art by @emositecc 💖

[italoniponic]

Bat-Hunter | Rook Hunt & Lilia Vanrouge

Synopsis: In which Rook and Lilia found themselves at the start of a legendary battle for the Prefect of Ramshackle's heart. The world of love triangles is awfully quiet after this exchange. Dedicated to @pandoa. You wish and you shall receive &lt;3

Lilia Vanrouge, Rook Hunt x gender neutral reader / small scenario / fluff but mostly crack / reference to a specific Phillipines dish / 1525 words / use of “you” pronouns / Masterlist

Bat-Hunter: The Magnificent Showdown!

Few people throughout history — between humans and faes — could say that they had the audacity to directly antagonize the Great General Vanrouge in any sort of battle. And getting out of this sort of risk alive was a bit of luck granted to very few people, almost to none.

“But a coward hunter is not worthy to receive the title, nor to wear a hat.”

That was the Hunt family motto that Rook was so proud to carry in his heart. Such was his respect for his family tradition that this phrase was embroidered on the inside of all his hats so as to never forget his origins.

Well, maybe I’m starting a little too fast and you’re still worrying — from the comfort of Ramshackle’s upstairs window — what the hell the two guys you liked were doing on the ground floor balcony, dressed like that.

Despite everything, you suddenly shrugged to yourself and headed to the kitchen where a more urgent task needed to be fulfilled. When everything was ready, hopefully you could invite the guys in. That is, if you found one or the other intact in the end.

Because that was the feeling that their exchange of glances passed.

Lilia was dressed in his Light Music club “uniform,” as punk rock as your father had been in the eighties when he was young and phones were wired. He held his guitar close to him, as if it were the weapon of his days in the Army of Thorns. He was “total rad” — as the youngsters would say.

His friendly smile only masked the irritation of finding Rook in that place, decked out from head to toe. Usually, his presence was easy to ignore and his curiosity could be quite amusing from time to time.

But he knew the real situation they were in: they were equals in rivalry for the heart of Ramshackle’s Prefect.

Knights in a duel for love!

Rook, in his own instance, wore a pair of belted trousers and a loose white blouse — located in the common vocabulary as a “pirate blouse” — with the strange addition of a large pink coat over his shoulders, sewn by hand and with some patterns of blue rhombuses. With his hat in hand, he looked like a book character.

His expression was equally gentle but it carried a certain pang of defiance, like a hunter who meets another while hunting.

“You look very beauté this afternoon, Monsieur Curiosité!,” Rook praised.

“How did you actually say that time? That my beauty is ‘mysterious’?,” Lilia chuckled, squinting his eyes.

“Oui, oui! But do not fret, Monsieur, today my attention is on someone else.”

“Another one? You can’t get enough of it, can you, Hunt?”

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, yes. I’m tired. Tired because I’m wandering for days and nights thinking about the smile of that kind person and how I would like to cheer them up in these times of crisis!”

Crisis? Lilia didn’t quite understand. You seemed to be doing very well during all the times you met. Had he let any detail slip through the cracks?

“What kind of crisis? That is,” he bit his tongue, embarrassed that he had to ask for help from his literal rival. “If I may intrude.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. These are ear crisis! Dear Trickster has been hearing a lot of guitars being scratched lately,” the young huntsman replied, boldly.

Lilia barely broke his guitar cable — or the entire instrument at once in Rook’s head.

It was a mere provocation, no big deal. And Pomefiore’s vice, the way he was, probably appreciated each style of music in its own artistic way. But they were dealing with a battle of epic proportions and every blow counted.

Even if he were to call Lilia’s love-hard-heavy-metal demo “instrument-scratching”. But it was worth it and it showed in the way Rook’s eyes squinted in amusement.

Dealing with Diasomnia’s vice has always been an adventure in itself. That was the best part about being Lilia’s romantic rival.

Regardless of the ending, moments like this would always have a special place in Rook’s heart and he would remember it all with emotion when he went to tell your children — “the Hunt Jrs.” — the trajectory of your love.

“Why are you crying?,” suddenly Lilia inquired, confused.

“You will not be forgotten, Monsieur Curiosité! Forever and ever!,” Rook declared, wiping a tear with the sleeve of his coat. “Your memory will be carried forever in our family!”

At this the fae pulled the hunter by the collar of his shirt, staring directly into his green eyes. It was not necessary to float to come face to face with Rook, Lilia had enough dignity to impose himself the way he wanted.

And, let’s face it, making the boy — a “child” in his eyes — literally reach his level was more convenient too.

“Your particular persona has not yet turned gray to be Malleus’ breakfast because I dare, to the best of my mental faculties, find your audacity mildly amusing,” Lilia said with a grim smile cutting across his face.

“I thank you, monsieur. And I, if I may say so, find the bloody-pink in your eyes extremely beautiful,” Rook retorted, torn between fascination and a certain fear instinct that only made him feel more confident in his goals.

“Who do you think you are, hunter?”

“And who do you think I am, bat?”

That said, the two of them started laughing. Maniacally. They walked away but kept laughing, releasing all the anger and tension that could be felt in the form of simple fun between two colleagues.

Oh, they wanted to duel until death ripped them from each others hands.

Fortunately, you opened the door in time to prevent a bloodbath in your yard — after all, it would be difficult to clean it up.

“Hey, boys!,” you greeted, happy. “Wanna come in? I made pancit canton!”

Then you showed them a plate of fresh noodles, straight out of the pan, in a colorful combination of sliced pork, sausage and shrimp along with chopped carrots, cabbage, peas, onions and garlic. It smelled wonderfully good and matched your good mood. No wonder, it was your favorite food from the Philippines.

The sun was setting and it was close to dinner time. In fact, you were so excited about the process of cooking everything — from blanching vegetables to cutting meats — that the serving size tripled. Maybe being busy tidying the house didn’t help your distraction.

But with Lilia and Rook there — and Grim would be happy with extra food — you felt that little slip was worth doing it.

The smile that opened on your face descended on them like a ray of light in the midst of darkness, poetic as a fairy tale.

The animosity in the air was still palpable, however you were simply happy to have the company of your two crushes at the same time and there are times you need to take advantage of some situations.

“Prefect! I composed a song and I would like you to hear it,” Lilia stepped forward, putting the guitar in position and pulling a bombastic sound from the strings.

Your eyes widened and you couldn’t stop an admiring smile from appearing. Outside that your heart was racing just like the Light Music club speakers after a performance by Lilia. He was so cool!

“And I brought the best collection of poems on my bookshelf to recite, sweet Trickster!,” Rook didn’t lag behind and with one movement of his arm, the coat danced beautifully under his shoulders.

Another shot to the heart! As if that were not enough, the shades of the afternoon horizon harmonized perfectly with Rook’s clothes and made him an otherworldly vision, having escaped from a bedside book just to meet with you.

“You two are going to drive me crazy like this…,” you grumbled to yourself. But you did your best to stay intact.

“I just want you to bear with me 'cause I am only one,” you said. “Let’s have dinner first, okay?”

“All for you, sweet Trickster!,” Rook declared, taking your free hand and kissing it.

“A-ah! Okay?”

“What matters is your wish, Prefect,” Lilia skillfully took the plate of pancit from your other hand and also kissed it.

“B-but your guitar...!” He literally had put the instrument between his legs.

“There’s no time for questioning, magnefique apple of my eyes. Forward, my brave rival!”

“Said and done, hunter!”

You were still confused when they managed to find a way to literally drag you into the house, each holding your arms as if your weight was negligible and the situation completely normal.

It was obvious how Rook and Lilia, even if in different ways, could make you go “head over heels.” 

Well, you avoided reaching that angle when they deposited you on the couch and sat each by your sides. At least the animosity was gone and Lilia’s guitar was more securely propped up on the coffee table.

“Dinner, mes ami?,” Rook suggested. “Then a lyrical duel to the death?”

“A what...?”

“That’s fine for me,” Lilia accepted.

And so they lived happily ever after. At least until after dinner.

🦇🆚️🏹

Special Notes: It’s funny or maybe not how I can get drowned in my own work and never make any progress in months but the moment the inspiration for something strikes me as a lighting, suddenly I can pull off an entire 1525 thing in two nights straight. It’s quite simple and it goes more into comedy territory but it’s a homage for your underrated comedy skills, Pando! I still tried my best to make sure both Rook and Lilia could have their times to shine. I based most of the exchange in Lilia’s R Sports Card personal story with Rook (and just got off from that feeling). Have to say, I love a good unilateral passive-aggressive convo and they delivered <3

Now… any similarities of scenes from certain movies are completely my fault. I’m currently having a Die Hard and Kung Fu Panda brainrot, which is weird but it happened.

[cherry-coffees]

"Yes, Princess"

princess!Caitlyn x f! lady in-waiting!reader

cw: 2.7K words | forbidden love, 18+ mdni, smut with a hint of angst, fingering, oral sex, implied scissoring, top!Caitlyn, mommy kink, praise kink, my first time writing smut so I apologize!

Head up, eyes bright, graceful walk, sweet smile.

Those are the words that repeat in your head over and over again like a broken record as you enter the ballroom. The Kiramman ballroom, to be exact: one of the grandest rooms in the Piltover palace. The scene is breathtaking: chandeliers emitting a warm glow over the room that’s filled with expensive champagne and linen tablecloths and gold trimmings along the walls. A picture of elegance and grace that perfectly matches the Kiramman royal family.

You walk as gracefully as you can into the center of the ballroom to mingle with guests, bowing slightly and introducing yourself with a last name that always seems to catch people’s attention. You’re a Piltover noble, that much is clear. A pretty one at that: dressed in a baby pink, floor length gown that hugs your torso and chest just right, trailing into silk that parts in a slit up past your knee. Carefully chosen accessories, styled hair: you’re the picture of grace. 

After a few minutes of mingling with the other nobles in attendance, Mel finds you easily. “There you are!” She exclaims, gold flecks dusting her cheeks. “I thought I missed you; you took so long to join the party!”

Relief sweeps through you at the familiar face. “Sorry,” you sigh, adjusting your hair over your shoulder. “I was helping the princess get ready, and it ran a little late. I had to rush my own getting ready afterwards.”

“Ah, of course, my favorite lady-in-waiting,” Mel laughs airily. “How else would the Kiramman princess survive? And you look stunning, by the way; I’ve seen more than a few guys eyeing you since you came in.”

“I’m just happy I look composed” you have to fight the urge to roll your eyes, surrounded by important guests. “These shoes hurt like a bitch.”

“Yeah, well,” Mel’s lips quirk into a mischievous smile. “It must be working because there’s one person who hasn’t taken her eyes off you since you walked in.”

Oh.

Your stomach churns a little as you follow Mel’s glance behind you, to the front of the ballroom where the royal family is standing. Or, more specifically, the Kiramman princess: Caitlyn. Navy hair combed out and hitting her mid-back, with a simple navy gown to match. Her posture perfect and poised as always. But through her polite smile at the nobles that greet her, her icy-blue eyes were focused elsewhere: you. 

You try to suppress the wave of heat that goes through you. You know those eyes. You see them every day, had zipped up her dress and clasped her necklace around her neck not even an hour ago. A usual everyday task for you as her lady in-waiting, it might seem, but you still have your moments of your cheeks flushing pink. How can you not? It’s Caitlyn. She must have been destined to be a princess, to be admired by millions with her Gods-given beauty.

In this moment, though, you only let yourself lock eyes with her for a second before you’re turning back to Mel. “Um, yeah,” you blink, desperately hoping your carefully applied blush covers your flushed cheeks. “She, uh, recommended this dress to me, so she probably just noticed I ended up wearing it.”

Mel nods, seemingly dropping the topic, though there’s a hint of knowing in her raised eyebrows. “Right. Anyways, I’ll find you later. Wanted to say hi before I grab more champagne.” She squeezes your arm and flashes you a smile before she disappears into the crowd.

Now alone, you’re thrown right back into the scene of music and ballgowns and a few too many overly nice men. You smile sweetly, making polite conversation. What’s a lovely lady like you doing by yourself? You look beautiful. Are you really the lady in-waiting for Princess Caitlyn? 

You can only take so much of the same conversations, the same flirtatious glances and smooth offers to dance. You’re knee-deep in another exchange with some noble man from Noxus, who thinks he’s being way more charming than he is, when you feel a presence behind you. And, when you see the man go wide-eyed, you have a pretty good idea of who it is.

“Excuse me,” Caitlyn’s posh accent rings from behind you. “I was wondering if I might steal my lady in-waiting for a moment?”

“O-Oh! Yes, of course, Princess,” the man stutters, hastily managing a bow and backing away — to find another girl to hit on, most likely. You turn to face Caitlyn, tilting your head upward to meet her gaze. Damn, she’s tall.

“If you’ll come with me,” her formalities don’t falter once as she gently takes hold of your arm, steering you towards a less-crowded corner of the ballroom. It’s inherently obvious that you don’t really have a choice.

Caitlyn lets go of your arm once in the corner, and you take the moment to adjust your dress, fluffing it out a bit. Her eyes follow the movement. “Having fun?” She asks, her voice calm and unwavering.

“Ah, you know,” you sigh, tilting your head. “Greeting everyone.”

“Mm.” Her hand makes its way back to your arm, tracing lightly over your skin. “Any suitors catch your eye?”

Her words are posed as an innocent question, but you know her too well to believe it. Her hand’s motions don’t cease, and you can’t help a half-smile. “Possessive,” you mumble, so soft that Caitlyn might not have heard it if she wasn’t so focused on your every breath.

She hums in response. “Can you blame me? Some of the men are a little too handsy. More than what’s appropriate for a ball.”

Again, you fight the instinctive roll of your eyes. “Sure.”

The reply causes Caitlyn to step forward, eyes just slightly narrowed. “Don’t sass me,” she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear. 

“Then don’t lie to me.”

“Fair,” Caitlyn’s laugh is quiet, her hand falling to your waist. “So what if I want my lady in-waiting all to myself?” The emphasis on the word my isn’t lost on you. Admittedly, you don’t mind it. “Don’t think I don’t know what you’re doing.”

“What am I doing?” You ask, blinking your wide eyes up at her with a slight furrow of your eyebrows. And oh, Caitlyn’s weak to your innocent expression. She has to bite the inside of her cheek to suppress the urge to kiss it off your face.

She lets out another hum, if a little more breathy this time. “Darling,” her voice is hushed. Now it’s your turn to go weak at the pet name falling from her lips in that hot-as-fuck accent of hers. “You know how I feel about you in pink. And with the slit? Are you trying to get me to loose it at my own ball?”

Well. You really don’t know how to respond to her accusation given that it’s true. So you just toss your hair behind your shoulder, glancing around at the crowded ballroom. “How unofficial for a princess.”

“I wouldn’t tease,” Caitlyn warns, moving behind you so her breath ghosts over the back of your neck. She doesn’t miss the gooseflesh that springs up at the contact, and she has to bite back a smirk. To anyone in attendance at the ball, it would just look like she’s fixing your dress. Her plan, you suppose.

You swallow, keeping your eyes trained on the opposite wall of the ballroom. So no one will suspect anything, you tell yourself. Definitely not because it makes you straighten up a little more and listen to every word she says when she uses that authoritative tone of hers.

“Hm,” Caitlyn lets a hint of a smug smile grace her features as she moves again, this time in front of you so your gazes lock. “I suppose I’ll see you later.” She leaves you with a brush of your hands before drifting off to rejoin Cassandra, Piltover’s queen and her mother.

You’re frozen for a moment, unsure of your next move. After a few seconds, you blink rapidly to compose yourself before moving over to take a glass of the champagne Mel had mentioned earlier. You really need a drink.

I------» ~~~ «------I

“Gods,” you exhale shakily as your body’s practically slammed against a wall. The precaution is a pale hand that cradles the back of your head, shielding it from hurt.

Caitlyn noses into the corner of your jaw as a silent apology before her mouth drops, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat. The scent of her shampoo floods your senses — some kind of flower, maybe?  

It’s been maybe an hour since the ball’s end, and you had come to check on Caitlyn before going to bed for the night. Though, not before stopping by your room to freshen up. Your guess had been proven right when she had opened her bedroom door at the first sound of your knock, yanking you inside with zero hesitation. She had been waiting for her chance, it seemed.

You can’t help another breathy sigh as her lips find your pulse point, sucking the sensitive skin into her mouth in a way that makes your hands find her shoulders, squeezing gently. “No marks,” you breathe, and you can feel Caitlyn’s annoyed huff against your neck.

“Why can’t I just mark what I want?” She presses another hot kiss to your pulse. She’s almost like a child, pouting over things she can’t have. But it’s not either of your doings. 

You can’t say anything to that because, if it had been your decision, you would have let her paint your neck with her love bites long ago. Caitlyn, too, seems to notice your tension, and she lifts her head back up. “You’re thinking too much,” she murmurs, her nose brushing against yours. “Don’t.”

Any reply dies on your tongue as Caitlyn kisses you with a fiery passion, presses of lips turning into the strokes of her tongue into your mouth. Her knee finds its way between your thighs, even with both of you still adorning your long dresses. You gasp, but she swallows it, continuing to kiss you deeply like she’s been wanting to for hours.

“Still worked up from earlier?” Her mouth breaks from yours, lips twisting into a lazy smirk. 

Your cheeks flush with a pink hue, and you glare at her. You both had gotten more than a little distracted when you had helped her get ready for the ball, ending with heated kisses and grinding that did little to relieve your ache for her. “Don’t tease.”

“Mm, you’re telling me what to do now?” All it takes is an arch of Caityn’s eyebrows and your gaze drops from hers. 

“Sorry,” you mumble, conceding by leaning up to kiss her jaw. Though, when you see the muscle flex, you feel a sense of satisfaction rush through you. She’s not as immune to you as she might pretend. That much is clear when she tugs you over to her bed, bringing you to straddle her lap.

“You’re making me crazy,” Caitlyn mouths at your collarbone, her hand sliding up the slit of your dress to squeeze your thigh. “I hated everyone looking at you. You’re mine to look at.”

“Ah,” you sigh, running a hand through her now-messy navy hair, the locks tangling in your fingers. “Everyone’s looking at you, Princess.”

Caitlyn’s icy eyes flash at your emphasis of her title, and before you know it, she’s flipped you onto you back on her bed, one of her hands pinning both of yours above your head. “That’s not what you call me when we’re alone.” 

“Cait-"

“Nope,” she tightens her grip on your wrists as punishment. “Try again.”

“Mommy-"

“There we go,” Caitlyn coos, letting your hands free and trailing her perfectly manicured nails down your arms. “Now, why don’t we get you out of this dress, hm?”

She’s tugging at the zipper of your dress before you can even respond, and you arch your back — half to give her more access and half because this all feels so good that you crave more. More of this, more of her.

And when Caitlyn tosses the fabric to the floor without sparing a glance at it, you swear the look in her eyes is predatory as she stares at you in your lingerie. “Beautiful,” she breathes, like she hasn’t seen you before, and you feel a wave of heat straight down to your core. 

“You knew I’d do this,” Caitlyn accuses, making quick work of slipping off your bra and panties. More specifically, the navy set that's her favorite of your lingerie. She claims it’s because the color suits you, but you know better. You know it’s because she likes you in her color: a silent claim on you. “You wore this knowing I’d want to fuck you.”

“You want to fuck me?” You question in mock-surprise, though immediately regret teasing her when she tangles your hair in her fist and angles your face up to meet hers.

“What was that?” Caitlyn’s voice is strict, composed even as her other hand grips your hip so hard you’re sure it’ll bruise. 

“Nothing,” you’re quick to assure, because if you sass her, Caitlyn won’t let you come. And gods, you want to come. She’s already worked you up so much that your thighs are slick with anticipation.

“And?”

You bite the inside of your cheek. “‘m sorry, Mommy.”

“Good,” she releases your hair to move down your body and you hate how much wetter you get at the smallest of praise. “Now, be a darling and spread your legs.”

Your thighs fall open at the order, and you don’t have to see Caitlyn’s face to feel the smug pride radiating off her. She presses her thumb to your swollen clit and coos at the strangled gasp you let out. “I- please,” you whimper, pleading for any kind of relief.

But Caitlyn, though very sweet and attentive, is just a little bit mean, too. So she teases her fingers along your soaked slit, not giving you the penetration you desire. “What do you want, love? Fingers, tongue-?”

“Anything,” you whine because it feels like she’s been baiting you forever now, if only a few minutes. 

“So desperate for me” Caitlyn smirks teasingly as her gaze meets yours, but gives in all the same, plunging two fingers into you. Because she loves it — loves how badly you need her. She starts slow, but eventually builds up speed when you whimper in protest.

“Oh,” you mewl, fisting at her sheets when she angles her fingers upwards to meet that sweet spot inside you that dissolves you into pure pleasure. “Oh, please, I need-"

“Shh, I know,” Caitlyn soothes, her other hand on your thigh surprisingly gentle, a contrast to the rapid thrusts of her fingers. And she does. She’s so in-tuned to your needs, knows exactly how you like to be touched after months of secret affairs that no one in the palace would suspect.

With that, her lips wrap around your aching clit and suck, tongue teasing your most sensitive nerves as her fingers continue their rough motions inside you. You let out a squeal of pleasure, immediately clapping a hand over your mouth to muffle your noises. But Caitlyn doesn’t let up in her relentless stimulation, and it doesn’t take long for you to keen into your palm as you come around her fingers.

She helps you through your release, letting your hips angle against her mouth as your orgasm racks through your body, before she gently slips her fingers out. You shakily prop yourself up on your elbows and god, you could come again just from the dark look in her icy eyes as she looks up at you from between your thighs. “Fuck, Caitlyn.”

“You’re not done, you know,” Caitlyn murmurs, smiling all the same as she moves up your body to kiss you. 

“I know,” you mumble against her lips, reaching up to tug her hips down to meet yours. Caitlyn hisses, shifting to slip off her own lingerie before pressing her dripping core against yours. “Wanna stay like this forever.”

And, as she descends upon you once again, the brief thought enters your mind that you really hope you get to stay like this forever. Even if forever is only until the sun comes up.

Ugh. Need her.

As said, this is my first time writing smut so...I hope it didn't suck? Thank you sm for all the love and support on my writing in the month-ish I've been on here! Sending love to everyone <3

Reminder that my inbox/requests are open :)

[mensmommymilkers]

Hey have I mentioned I’m obsessed with them

[ch3rrybite]

james and sirius were created to orbit each other. it doesn’t matter how you frame it—best friends, brothers, lovers—they’re james-and-sirius, one word, one force of nature that defies any logic. they don’t just care for each other; they are each other. sirius would burn the entire world to keep james safe, and james? james would probably hand him the matches.

the universe could throw anything at them—war, loss, betrayal—and they’d still find a way to end up side by side. tear apart their world, burn everything they love, and they’d still hold on. sirius broke out of azkaban, walked through hell itself, not just for vengeance but because harry is james’s son. do you understand what that means? he risked EVERYTHING for the last piece of james he had left.

they’re not just bonded—they’re written into the fabric of existence. take away their memories, rip out their names, and they’d still know. something inside them would still know. it’s not love, or loyalty, or even obsession—it’s just a truth as old as the stars. wherever they go, whatever life they’re in, it’s always going to be them. james and sirius, forever pulling each other back into orbit, no matter how hard the universe tries to pull them apart.

[softaestluv]

Guard Dogs

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Neighbor!Reader

Pt. 1, Pt. 2 , Pt. 3, Pt. 4, Pt. 5

Tags: Angst, Fluff, & Eventual Smut

Summary: You were a proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy. Ghost only looked to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar. Even if Riley wanted more.

Ghost, who won’t admit it, gets a dog because when he’s not on assignments he gets lonely. His home feels terribly empty all by himself; the silence deafening, borderline painful. Adopted him from the local shelter, a German shepherd who he names Riley. Tells everyone that he needed a guard dog to protect his belongings when he’s not home, but everyone knows his prized possessions are far and few in between. Could hold all of them in his palms, carries them with him all the time anyways.

He trained Riley rigorously just like he did in the military. Treated him just as he did his trainees. Until he was obedient and well-behaved, listened to his every command. A perfect sidekick for him. Kept him company in his home that felt too large to be alone in. Always at his feet or curled into his side on the couch. A couch he probably shouldn’t let him on or bed sheets he shouldn’t be tangled in, but Ghost had a soft spot for him. Broke the rules for him because he was his dog after all, made the silence and loneliness a little bearable. Made his home a little more warm.

Riley who seemed to take a liking to you— the pretty bird who lived across the street. Made him think that maybe Riley was more like him than he realized; his own eyes had been drawn to you multiple times. He was usually well-behaved, didn’t approach strangers or jump on them for their attention. Ghost had trained him better than that. However, the first time he crossed your path on a walk, he pulled Simon by the leash, pressed his nose against your calf eagerly in interest.

You stopped in your tracks with a soft noise of surprise, “Oh! Well, hi there!” Your focus shifted to Simon, “Is it okay if I pet him?”

Simon hummed nodding his head in response. You gave him a small smile before squatting down eye level to Riley. Pet down his back and scratched behind his ears, Riley wagging his tail swiftly behind him, would probably purr if he was a cat. Dog hair covered your black shirt as he snuggled into your touch, but you didn’t seem to mind too much.

Cooed baby voiced praises to him that had him whining happily, “What’s your name, sweet boy?”

“Riley.”

“Riley,” You repeated softly, caused him to bark loudly in response. Snickered quietly at the noise, “Nice to meet you too, Riley.”

“Sorry, he doesn’t usually bug people like this,” Simon apologized, tugging on his leash lightly to pull him away.

You stood up at that, shaking your head, “Don’t worry. I don’t mind at all he’s a sweetheart.”

“Got dog hair all over ya now.” Gestured to the hair decorated on your clothing.

You exhaled a chuckle, brushing the fur off as best you could, “No worries, I live up the block. On my way home, anyways, just on a run.”

“Think I might live across from you. Moved in a couple months ago, but haven’t really been around.”

“Oh, yes! Wondered who lived there for a while now,” Held your hand out for him to take, “Nice to finally meet you.”

Riley whined when Simon pulled him away, tried to follow after you when you continued your jog. Sat and watched you run away despite Simon’s tugging or lack there of.

After that there wasn’t a day they didn’t run into you. Simon always woke up too early, military sleeping schedule beat into his mind. Didn’t have pleasant enough dreams to keep sleeping most nights anyways. At least that was the excuse he created in his mind to validate his actions.

Maybe Riley was his wingman, pressed his nose against your calf every time he passed you. Caused you to stop and greet them both, gave Riley endless pets and scratches before you turned your attention to Simon with a pretty smile. Drenched in sweat and frizzy hair from running, but each look from you had his mouth drying. Didn’t care that he wore a balaclava, didn’t even ask, chose to focus on his eyes instead.

It became his favorite part of his days, looking forward to the small interaction he would have with you. No matter how insignificant it was, but nothing seemed to be that way with you. Asked how he was, how did his day go yesterday, and how was Riley doing? How was work? Tiring, of course. Maybe you should sleep more instead of waking up so early!

He would if he could, but then he wouldn’t get to see you. His pretty neighbor, too sweet for her own good.

The only other time he got to see you was through your windows in the evening. It’s not like he was watching you, really, he wasn’t a stalker. He just so happened to be by his living room window everytime you came home from work. 6 o’clock on the dot, 5 on Fridays, started your weekends early.

Watched you slip out of your car, different sundress every time, dressed just like a pretty doll. Flowy and ruffled, hid your figure well enough. Didn’t flaunt it, but he knew what was underneath it all. He had seen your silhouette through the dimly lit curtains, shadows of you peeling layers off to shower.

Simon wasn’t a pervert, he wasn’t desperate for these small glimpses every night. But didn’t you know you should be more careful sweetheart? There were perverts out there, you were lucky he wasn’t one. He only kept looking to protect you from the evils of the world just like Riley. Your two personal guard dogs.

The evils of other men that you never brought home. No boyfriend in sight. Never stayed out late, even on weekends. Stayed snuggled on your couch or cooked for most of your free time. A proper good girl. Just like in his fantasies when he was a little boy.

Cooking he wanted desperately to try, spent hours in your kitchen preparing god knows what. It’s not like Simon would even know what you were making, his countless store bought meals buried in his trash were evident enough. Hoped he might get a taste one day, melt on his tongue because he knew it would be delicious.

But maybe this is where he belonged, on the other side of the glass, staring at you from afar rather than enjoying the warmth of your home and cooking. So he cherished what he could get, the small greetings every morning, and the clockwork of watching you every night. Even if Riley wanted more.