#echo's favorite pastime

[echosong971]

“With bloody knuckles, you'd follow him anywhere.”

[girlrotterr]

✧ ⁺˳ She might not look like she gets bitches.

꒰ streamer!ellie headcannons ꒱ a/n: I know this is a little short but wanted to write something silly!

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose bad posture is only made worse by the massive gaming headset permanently denting her hair. By the end of each stream, there’s a wild, flattened patch on her head. Chat’s constantly telling her to take a break, but she just grins, shaking her head with a stubborn “This is the look, trust.” ignoring the fact that her neck is basically molded to fit the headset

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose mic is almost as old as her setup, hanging off a stand with a few screws loose. It crackles with static if she yells too loudly, but she refuses to upgrade.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose webcam glitches, freezing her mid-sentence in the least flattering positions, like mid-eye roll or tongue out. She’ll smack the side of her screen, muttering. “Oh, fucking come on!” 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose desk is a mess of clutter: tangled cords, stray stickers, and half-finished doodles scattered across the surface. Chat is obsessed with trying to guess what all the random junk is, especially when something odd slips into frame—like an old action figure with a missing arm or an unopened can of Spam.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who leans back in her chair, stretching out her arms with a carefree sigh, her hair falling messily over her face. When suddenly, the camera catches a glimpse of her strap-on, casually hanging out in the corner of the screen. 

"IS THAT WHAT I THINK IT IS?!!"

"DAWG NO WAY!?"

"NO WAY BRO GETS ANY TYPE OF PLAY"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose chat’s favorite pastime is mocking her everytime she gets cocky. She’ll brag like, “Watch this fucking clutch.” only to immediately fumble, staring straight into her webcam, deadpaned. The chat spamming with messages like: 

"Just uninstall bro.."

"How tf is she this bad?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whose quick to pick up on any kid’s attitude in the game. The second she hears a high-pitched “You’re trash!” she instantly counters, “YOUR DADS STROKE GAME IS TRASH!” She’ll sit there grinning, hyping herself up as the kids try to come back with more insults. Chat’s losing it, spamming, "BRO HE'S 12?!"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever in the heat of a game, her brows furrow, her jaw sets, and the chat braces for impact. When she misses a shot, her frustrated yell reverberates, echoing through thin walls that neighbors are definitely complaining about. “I’m never playing this shit again!” Spolier: She always plays it again.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie whenever she’s roped into playing with Abby, her chat lights up with anticipation. Abby always manages to take her down, which only amps up her muttered curses and exaggerated sighs. “I WAS FUCKING LAGGING” she yells, while her chat’s ablaze with "IM CRYINGGGFF!" and "ELLIES ACTUAL FUCKING CHEEKS BRO!" Abby barely has to try; one word and Ellie’s thrown off, dropping all her ammo in the wrong place.

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you show up in her game lobby, she clears her throat, trying to play it smooth. She lowers her voice a full octave, attempting some kind of “cool” introduction. But the chat? They’re absolutely losing it.

"DID ELLIE JUST TURN INTO A FUCKING MAN?!"

"I CANNOTOTTTT"

"PLEASE ELLIE UR EMBARRASING."

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie always tries to play it smooth by making some bold promise, like, “Stick with me, and we’ll clutch this.” But then she immediately gets taken out. Chat explodes, throwing in every possible roast, like, "BRO ELLIE PACK IT THE FUCK UP!" and "THE HOES ARE RUNNING"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who, by the end of the stream, knows you’re still there in chat. So a quick, stumbling sentence slips out, “Uh, if you...you know, ever wanna game or whatever, just hit me up.”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie when you send over your Instagram, she freezes, her in-game character getting KO’d. But she’s too hyped to care. She jumps out of her chair, nearly flipping it backward, screaming into her mic, “BRO, BRO, BRO, NO WAY—LETS GOOOO!!” She starts pacing, muttering, “CHAT, ARE WE SEEING THIS!?.”

The Chat’s blowing up like: 

"WWWWWW!!!!!"

"OKAY ELLIEEEE WE SEE YOUUU!!!!"

"THERE'S ABSOLUETLY NO WAY"

"BRO?!?!?!!"

and she’s just laughing, all out of breath. 

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s bouncing in her seat, half-yelling at her monitor, “FUCKK ” She’s pointing at your handle in her chat, looking dazed, like she’s still trying to process it. Her hands are shaking, and she’s practically yelling over her poor-quality mic, “I FUCKING DID THAT CHAT!”  Chat’s spamming, "PLEASEE SHE WAS DOING CHAIRTY WORK ELLIE!" and "NAHHH THATS DEFINITELY AI"

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie who’s too hyped to even hear the first few bangs on her door. But then, it’s like her soul leaves her body. “dude, what was that?” She leans closer to the mic, whispering like her neighbors can’t still hear her, “um… chat…?” Chat’s flooding with "NUH UHHH" and "AWWW SHITTT"and she’s just grinning, trying to stifle a laugh. “Alright, hold on, lemme go check”

✧⁺ — Streamer!Ellie where a moment later, she comes back into frame holding a piece of paper up to the webcam: an eviction notice. She stares at the camera, lips pressed into a thin line as chat explodes, crying.

"NO WAYYYYY!!!!?!??!?!"

"SENDING YOU JOB APPLICATIONS"

"IM FUCKING CRYINGFFFF!!"

"UR GONNA HAVE TO SELL THAT STRAP"

[iichfilwypj]

his dreamy girl | percy jackson

ღ percy jackson x daughter of hypnos! reader ღ warnings: i mention a hit? this is pure fluff to me im very bad at this. Also i was falling asleep and i thought of these so it might suck <3 ღ wc: 685 pt 2 - pt 3 - pt 4 - pt 5 - pt 6 - pt 7

“And then he tried to steal my sword! The one that literally comes back to me! How stupid can you be?” his rambles echoed through Cabin 3 that hot, dark night. Some hours earlier, the blue team had won Capture the Flag, and Percy was especially excited to share all the details with her. 

Like every other time, she hadn’t attended; not because she wasn’t skilled with weapons, but because no one had managed to wake her from her nap. When Grover tried, he received a slap and a mumbled, “The horses are hungry”, in response.

So there she was, lying on Percy’s bed in her pajamas with a face mask on, listening to him recount how he had hit Clarisse on the nose, how he had nearly eaten dirt, and how Annabeth had, once again, shoved him into the lake. His voice was extremely high-pitched, and she was on the verge of bursting into tears.

That was something she hated about being a daughter of Hypnos. Although her father had blessed her with the divine power to control her dreams –and believe me, being a demigod, that was very, very nice–, he also gifted her with a constant sense of fatigue. At breakfast? She was tired. Lunch? She was tired. Oh, she just woke up from a five-hour nap? So what, she was still tired. She couldn’t help it, no matter how hard she tried. 

When she met Percy, she quickly became friends with the boy who, instead of ignoring her for hours until she apologized for something she couldn’t control, set up a cozy little corner for her in his cabin, with pillows, stuffed animals, candles, and even tea bags. Come on, that boy was willing to challenge his dyslexia just to read something for her before bed.

“And then Annabeth goes, Well, you should run faster. Like, what!? I run very fast, sorry–” Percy’s shout jolted his friend out of her daydream, having closed her eyes as thoughts raced through her mind. She looked at him, watching as he fiddled with the sheets, and decided she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Hey, ocean breath” she murmured, and to him, her voice sounded like a fucking angel’s. Seeing her there, in his bed made him feel like an idiot and a coward. 

He looked at her with curiosity, quickly recalling what he was about to share and feeling excited to tell about it. “What? I was about to tell you how she crashed into the tree,” but as her eyes slowly rolled back, Percy realized what was happening. He couldn’t help the laugh that escaped his lips. “Oh, Zeus, don’t tell me you’re tired!”

He moved closer to her, resting his head on his pillow and basically lying down on top of her. By the way her head was tilting to the side, he knew he only had a few minutes left before she fell completely asleep. 

And yes, he totally chose those last minutes to tease her.

“Oh god, you’re like a baby! No, like a puppy. Wait, was it cats that slept like sixteen hours a day?” the girl tried to push him away with the little strength she had left, but Percy knew that deep down, she enjoyed this. Well, maybe not being squished by him, but knowing that he didn’t see her sleep as a bad thing.

She would never know, but Percy's favorite pastime was admiring her while she slept –oh my god, of course he couldn’t tell her that, it sounded really creepy. He cherished every detail about her, and if she was happy sleeping, he would make the whole world fall into an eternal slumber just to please her.

“Go to sleep, dreamy,” he said, gently flipping them both so she was on top of him. After turning off the little lamp beside the bed, his hands found their way to her back, stroking it softly. She buried her face in his neck and sighed. He dared to say “I love you”

But she was already lost in her dreams, and he was completely head over heels.

again, i am slut for fluff!!!! <3

[urhoneycombwitch]

Ok ok hear me out I have a different idea now after reading your phone sex blurb

What about after Eddie comes back from his tour they're out with friends and some other girl is chatting him up, trying to rub up on him in front of reader. And she wants to stake her claim but she can't because he's not hers, not technically; and he isn't into the other girl's attention because he just wants reader, but he can't be too earnest about that bc it'll scare her off.

Do I want them to grind on the dancefloor or have sex in the bathroom? Yeah maybe

foreword: more roommate!Eddie x reader filth. secret situationship fucking at a party style. ty anon <3

wc: 1.8k

cw: secret FWB, Reader with breasts + vagina, femme pet names used, fingering (R receiving), the return of Eddie Cums-In-His-Pants Munson, wee bit angsty, lots of hidden longing

____

This party is the most sound your apartment has ever heard- speakers thrumming bass lines through the floorboards, drunken friends’ laughter echoing off walls.

You and Eddie planned ahead, started plotting weeks ago to bribe various neighbors in the building to avoid catching a noise complaint- scratch brownies for the floor below, some pre-rolls handed off across the hall, party invites extended to whoever was in earshot.

Informal karaoke kicked off around midnight, as the room rose in heat from extra bodies and alcoholic flush; Robin and Steve are bringing down the house on the other side of the bathroom door, charming the crowd with a belligerently intoxicated rendition of a Beastie Boys hit.

Eddie’s got you pressed against the sink, your ass to the unforgiving marble of the counter while he teases his teeth over the skin of your neck.

“No marks,” you whisper, fist seizing up at the root of his hair, tugging. He stifles a moan into your skin while you continue to tell him off, voice just under the protective layer of music. “It’s bad enough there’s only one bathroom in this place. Someone’s bound to notice we’re both gone-”

Eddie suddenly drops to his knees, nosing at the strip of skin above your jeans that he lifts your shirt to reveal. Your breath stutters, and he grins before popping the button with his teeth, chocolate eyes eclipsed by the black-lust of his pupils.

“No one’s gonna hear you, ‘cuz you’re not gonna make a sound. Got it?”

The gush of arousal that meets Eddie’s fingers is invitation enough. You rock into his hand, and he angles his fingers up- you take two of them like a dream, as if your cunt had just been waiting to be filled by those long, dexterous digits, cold rings quickly warming to the skin-temperature of your thighs.

“That’s it,” Eddie mumbles, never more mouthy than when he’s face to face with his favorite pastime. And then, as if reading your mind- “Been waitin’ for me all night, hm? Poor thing. So wet…”

Outside, the song rises into a fast guitar solo bridge, quickening along with your breaths. Hoping there’s enough sound barrier, you brace yourself with one hand on the counter while the other buries itself into the heat of Eddie’s scalp.

Soft, dark curls slip between your knuckles, your thumb brushing gently under the layer of bangs to touch the bare skin of his forehead. It’s too tender, too endearing for what the moment calls, in direct contrast with the way Eddie’s plunging into you, the insistent, budging slope of his nose near the pounding apex of your thighs.

“Becca’s gonna notice.” Your thumb tracks a path to Eddie’s temple, so now you’re just cradling his head as he fingers you into oblivion. “You know- ah- Becca? The girl from down the hall that you invited, specially?”

If it wasn’t for the public setting, you’d take more time to calculate which buttons of Eddie’s to push; as it stands, you’re sort of flailing around in the dark, hitting random ones and seeing what lights up.

Seems to do the trick, though- in one fluid motion, Eddie shoves your jeans the rest of the way down and takes one of your knees over his shoulders, giving himself enough room between your legs to dip forward and latch onto on your clit.

His plush lips suck, fervently, in time with the rhythm of his curled fingers, managing to hit into that gummy spot that buckles your knees.

“Well Becca- isn’t- here, right now,” Eddie says, around lapping mouthfuls of you, hand on your hip near-bruising with the force it takes to keep you upright. “Besides, she invited herself.”

“I dunno… you seemed pretty excited to see her.” The muscles of your abdomen clench, then release, your head tipping backwards to thunk against the mirror.

There’s an arch in your spine, now, enough space for Eddie’s hand to migrate from your hip to low back, pulling you more insistently onto his tongue and fingers.

In response, the spot behind your navel tightens again, pleasure swelling with the music. It’s irritating that Eddie thinks you’ll drop the subject in favor of an orgasm, so you aim for another button, lashes fluttering at the ceiling, voice stretched thin as your resolve- “She gonna stay the night? Use the same bathroom you’ve finger-banged some other b-”

The wet, hot pressure on your clit disappears, a whine of protest crawling from your throat before Eddie can smother it with his palm. Luckily, the living room speakers are kind of shitty, crackling with feedback as the song reaches fever pitch volume.

Eddie’s fingers still within you, stretching to depths that make your eyes roll back as he rises to cover the length of your body with his own. His hand is big and warm over the lower half of your face, breath an angry huff by your ear as he growls, low- “It’s probably in your best interest to not finish that sentence.”

It’s some consolation that you have the option to bite. Tempting as that is, you let your glare speak for itself, brows knitting together as Eddie draws back to look at you.

There’s a bead of sweat running down the side of his jaw, disappearing into the curls he’s let loose for the night. The eyeliner you’d carefully applied for him pre-party is blurred from the humidity and exertion, a rosy flush in his cheeks to match.

Eddie crowds your vision, close enough for you to note the tiny freckle under his left eye twitch, and for a moment, everything is just him- all you can see, hear, touch, smell, dopamine flooding in a head spin of hormones that respond despite your best efforts to tamp them down.

The background noise fades away, and it’s just you and Eddie, panting and straining against the other. A squelch, as he adds a third finger, your breasts pushing into the solid expanse of his chest as you squirm up, mindlessly seeking release.

“Be good and come ‘fore this song is over,” he’s saying, thick fingers scissoring, your resounding moan stifled by his palm. “Then I’ll kick everyone out and let you come again.”

It’s the promise of another that undoes you, thighs shaking with the growing wave, lashes tickling Eddie’s knuckles as your eyes slam shut.

He keeps all the points of pressure that you need, plus more- hips pinning the frenetic rolls of your torso, tips of his fingers coaxing bright spasms from the channel of your cunt, forehead pressed like an anchor to your own as your body sings.

The whole time, he’s talking you through it, deep timbre just for your ears with rasping praise and encouragement. “Oh, fuck, sweetheart, that’s it. That’s it. Good. Let it all out. S’just me here, yeah? Just you and me. Fuck…”

By the time your hearing returns, Eddie’s dotting soothing kisses up the curve of your neck, apparently trusting you enough to let his hand drop from your mouth. You take a few deep, shuddering breaths, hand still buried in Eddie’s hair like a lifeline.

He doesn’t seem to mind, taking his sweet time pulling out of you, disentangling himself with lingering touches to any remaining bare skin.

While he tugs your shirt back into place, you turn to face the mirror, smoothing over flyaways and making sure you look somewhat presentable. You let Eddie’s hands roam as your heart rate stutters, working itself back down to normal while he refixes the button of your jeans.

His chin settles on your shoulder, arms twining around your middle; you let him take some of your weight, relaxing into his hold, eyes catching his in the mirror as you ask, quietly, “You want me to wingman for you? She seems nice. And it’s never a bad idea to sleep with someone who lives in your building.”

Eddie snorts, your dry attempt at a joke working wonders, grin on its way to devastating greeting your reflection. “You seriously think I’m the one who needs help? After the time I just showed ya?”

“Well based on my limited data-” your hips grind backwards without warning, and Eddie stiffens, smile slipping from his face as your own wicked grin takes over- “-I’d say you’re the one who came in his pants just from touching me.”

You wriggle in his arms to turn around, noses bumping, lips hovering in a not-quite-kiss as you whisper, “Say please and I’ll run and get you some new pants. Hand-delivered.”

Even with the wall of party noise, there’s a distinctive click as Eddie’s jaw ticks. He acquiesces, though, stopping somewhere just shy of grateful to grit out, “Please.”

You hum, pleased and thoughtful, leaning out of his space to lift a brow- “I think Becca’s into blue-collared boys.”

This fact, you’re basing off the one time you saw a UPS guy at your neighbor’s door. Sounds a lot better if you act like you know what you’re talking about, though, as if the list of things you know about Becca is longer than black hair and occasionally receives packages.

Distance, safety, one and the same, even though what your body begs for is to get closer, to soak all your senses in Eddie again. You wind a particularly pretty curl of his around your index finger. “Those khakis you wore once to Robin’s grad party and then never again- bottom drawer?”

When Eddie nods, he fixes you with a glare, nostrils flaring like he’s about to tell you off.

Before he can, though, you’ve wriggled from his grasp, reaching for the door handle with strict, hissy instructions about locking it after you’re gone and only opening for your special knock.

He obeys, deadbolt sliding into place, door swallowing the noise of the party in your absence.

It’s just Eddie now, leaning into hands over the sink, breathing hard like he hasn’t already blown a load three minutes ago.

The entire length of his middle fingers shimmer in the light, still coated with your arousal.

Eddie’s mouth waters. He thinks about you; how for a second, you were the only thing on his mind, how rare that is, for him to be so singularly focused.

Then he thinks about Becca. And stupid tight fucking dress pants.

The sink water gushes to a start as he jerks the handle on, sudsy hand soap scrubbing away at the smell of you, carrying it down the drain.

By the time you’re back, dreaded pants in hand, Eddie’s fixed an easy smile on his face, bickering at the ready. Almost normal, and certainly familiar.

It’s just simpler to keep some distance. Close quarters aside.

[jjunberry]

Heyy love your writing, first time requesting.

Could you please do casual dominance with Mingyu and Wonwoo (separately) with reader? Like guiding the reader nonsexually, a hand on the reader's neck when whispering in their ear, helping choose dresses?

Thank you in advance!

casual dominance ⟆ mingyu & wonwoo

mingyu loved helping you pick out clothing. from dresses to lingerie he was always there to offer his opinion and credit card. he stands behind you one hand on the back of your neck the other one zipping up your dress. his mouth dangerously close to your neck, “this looks stunning on you baby,” a shiver rolled down your spine. “thank you gyu, but it’s too much money.” you pouted. his hand snaked around to grip the front of your throat. “now baby, a gentleman never makes his girl pay,” he left an open mouth kiss on your neck and left you alone to go pick out more lingerie. your whole body felt hot after his searing touches.

wonwoo’s favorite pastime was helping his girl pick out lingerie. he didn’t do it to be sexual no, he did it because he loved seeing you feel confident and beautiful. wonwoo’s fingers carefully clipped the bra in place, his hands then taking their place on your shoulders. he leaned down resting his chin on top of your head. “see baby, now doesn’t that look gorgeous?” he grinned seeing your cheeks heat up. “we’re getting it,” he left a kiss on your neck and no room to argue.

🗒️: thinking of requesting? read my guidelines.

author’s note: need them both sooooo badly 😫

love, echo ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪

© jjunberry - all rights reserved. please do not repost on any social media sites, translate, or modify any of my works.

[ouiouimochi]

We should kiss

pairing/s: jiro kirisaki x reader

genre/s: romance, comedy(?), plot of convenience

wc: 800 ish words

warning/s: wonky phone format, no beta we die like zenji sigh, plot holes but you pretend you don't see it, medical shit I say here may or may not be true— but pls do not immediately believe it, PC never catches a break, itty bitty minor spoilers up until episode 9, characters may be ooc

note/s: ngl if yuri sees this, he'd call me a quack and make a point that studying in the med field as I am now just proves how much of a quack I am— 🦆

sigh I should be reviewing but then inspiration struck me

⁠ *✧⁠˖✦ـــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـــــــــــــــــــــ✦⁠˖✧*

You stood there absolutely confused as Yuri continued yapping about… something. What the actual fuck was he actually saying? The teal-haired male kept droning on while using fancy scientific and medical jargons.

You just nodded every now and then to show you were listening, but you were just doing it out of courtesy if you were being honest. You understood a few but couldn't piece together what he was trying to say.

All you could make of his blabbering was “saliva”, “immunity”, and “Jiro”.

Speaking of which, the other male cut in— you were unsure if it was for your sake or it was just his nature to do so, but you were grateful nonetheless. Until you visibly grew even more perplexed at the stoic male’s words.

“He means to say that we should kiss.” Jiro’s garnet eyes gauged your expression as a barely noticeable smirk crept itself up on his lips. Whether he meant to rouse certain reactions from you or not, you were sure he was snickering behind that deadpanned countenance.

Yuri makes a very disgruntled noise, “That's oversimplifying things, but as concise as always— nevermind that, I've hypothesized this would greatly improve Jiro's overall health.”

You weighed your options, however the Captain of Mortkranken was not yet done as he crossed his arms over his chest.

“Consider the debt you owe us paid when you participate.” His use of ‘when’ instead of ‘if’ solidified the case that you didn't have a choice in the matter at all.

It didn't help that a phantom presence made itself known to you.

“My dear, a loveliest lady such as yourself shouldn't be forced like this even if he's my little brother…” Zenji’s voice dripped with concern, but it made the decision to decline even harder since you kind of felt bad.

You sighed and shook your head, briefly making eye contact with the ghost to reassure him before meeting the eyes of the Mortkranken ghouls.

“Fine.”

Jiro calmly approached you and immediately rested a hand on your lower back. Before you know it, you were eye level with his tired and attractive face. Your eyes widened in surprise.

“Wait, now?—” You last heard a dramatic gasp from Zenji, getting cut off as the tall, usually apathetic purple-haired man just casually locked his lips with yours.

Time slowed as his tongue slipped in to take advantage of your shock— you were just too stunned to kiss back even if you wanted to. You were just screaming on the inside at what was happening.

“Jiro! Jiro!! What on earth are you doing?!?!” Yuri's flustered response echoed loudly in the room, basically screeching at the taller ghoul.

“Is it not optimal to immediately test out a hypothesis when created?” Jiro voiced out logically after pulling away from the kiss, still holding you closely as his eyes looked at his captain’s before locking with yours. You swallowed a lump in your throat.

Your mind was swirling, your whole face basically heating up in embarrassment. You did not expect him to do that at all— in front of an audience well he didn't know zenji was there no less.

Jiro had the gall to laugh, allowing his normally unbothered personality to crack as he enjoys making fun of you as if it became his favorite pastime now. He licked his lips.

“Y-you heathen! Get a room and don't include me in the hypothesis testing!!!” The teal-haired ghoul expressed his distaste of the blatant display of intimacy right in front of his face.

Yuri turns away to pinch the bridge of his nose as he clicks his pen, pointing it at you still in Jiro’s arms— you didn't know why he was still holding you. Any longer, you feared you might grow comfortable.

“You, out. We have reports to record.”

And such you find yourself absentmindedly walking back to your dorm. Your fingers ghosting your lips, remembering the kiss. His lips were surprisingly soft. The way he held you wasn't uncomfortable either. And his tongue—

You shook your head to rid yourself of the thoughts.

‘It’s just another experiment.’

Too bad you actually enjoyed it.

⁠*✧⁠˖✦ـــــــــــــــــــــﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـــــــــــــــــــــ✦⁠˖✧⁠*

sigh

taglist: @ryescapades (hi wifey even if u dunno this fandom *cri*), @minasfwoopyponytail , @akiakabane18 , @rottenzombrainz , + anyone else who wants to be added

[throneofsapphics]

yes or no

Rhyzriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel walks in to give Rhys a report. 

Warnings: this is actually PURE smut, soft!dom Rhys, kind of switch az, d/s dynamics, voyeurism, wingplay, minors dni!

A/N: apparently I was in a mood today, here’s some absolute (soft?) filth 

Rhys wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you back to rest against his chest. At first, it began sweet - gentle even. You relaxed back into his chest, closing your eyes and sighing. Strong legs caging you in, pinning you in place. His hand slipped under your top, thumb running back and forth over the soft skin of your stomach, idle and lazy strokes. 

“Have I told you how beautiful you are today?” 

You huffed a small laugh, “yes, you have.”

His knees slipped under your legs, casually hooking yours - spreading you open for him. 

“Rhys,” you murmured. 

He curved to place a kiss on your neck. “Yes?” The smooth voice echoed in your mind. 

“What are you doing?” You replied aloud.  

“Enjoying time with my mate, of course.” More like playing with you. His favorite pastime.

“It is.”

One arm tightened around your stomach, holding you closer. His hand trailed lower, fingering the band of your pants, popping one button open. 

“Rhys,” you sighed, even as your body began to relax in him, eager to feel his touch. 

“Something wrong?” He sounded amused. 

“No.” 

“Then be quiet.” 

Your mouth slammed shut at the order, at the underlying hint of dominance in it, especially as made his way further, back and forth strokes, slowly making his way down to where you wanted him. An involuntary moan left your lips as his fingers finally grazed your clit, hips jolting into his hand. 

“Do I need to gag you?” A rapid shake of your head, but really … you wouldn’t quite mind it. 

As always, keeping your mental walls lowered for him, he heard that particular thought and his hand withdrew. From the corner of your eyes, a small piece of cloth, black and smooth, appeared in his hand. Other hand withdrawing, he hooked a thumb between your lips, gently opening your jaw. 

The cloth doubled over, before slipping between your teeth, tied snugly behind your head. Immediately, your mouth began to water and you ran your tongue over the foreign material. Smooth against your tongue, thick enough for your teeth to bite into. 

Another thought from him, and your clothes disappeared. You had been wondering how long that would take. Dragging his nails up the inside of your thighs, your breath caught as you watched him get closer and closer, before pushing your legs further apart. Two fingers gathered your arousal, nearly dripping down your thighs now. 

“All this for me?” Another nod, mumbling something incoherent. “It better be,” he breathed. 

Hips rolling back, he hardened beneath you, a groan leaving his throat. Gentle but firm lips pressed kisses against your neck, sucking just enough to leave a faint bruise. You tilted your head, opening for him. Surrendering to him. His hands slid up, cupping your breasts, thumbs brushing over your nipples. 

You arched into him, embracing his touch, reaching your arm back to touch him - it froze mid air, a midnight swirl of magic catching it before lowering it down to your thigh. You whined in disappointment. It was only him who could get you into this state - the state where you’d whine for anything. Rhys loved this game, the control he had over you and your body. At least in this bedroom. 

“I do love it.” You rolled your eyes, a slap to your core cut that off. “We have a guest,” he warned and your breath caught. Hands tried to cover you, but he pried them back down with his own. A shadow creeping under the door was your warning, and it swung open without hesitation. 

Your body flushed, embarrassment at being caught in this situation. You were tempted to slide those mental shields back up, so he couldn’t hear your - “Don’t you dare.” 

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. 

A half smirk came over the shadowsinger’s face as he saw you, the position you’d been caught in. 

“A bit caught up?” His smooth and cool voice seemed to echo through the room.

“No,” Rhys answered. You couldn’t answer. 

Before you could frown, his hand swept back down, the other wrapping around your stomach and pinning your arms in place. Head falling back against his shoulder, your eyes rolled back, grinding your hips into him, a small snarl and nip against your neck stopped that. You didn’t care about the audience anymore, it felt like every part of you narrowed down to him, to the feeling of his fingers on you, the hard planes of his body behind you, legs spreading you wide. Teeth nipped at your neck, and the moan you let out wasn’t stifled by the gag. 

Rhys stilled, and you blinked your heavy eyes open. Azriel was still speaking, giving a report about something, but his eyes were on you. On where Rhys’s hand connected to your body, on the swell of your breasts. Slowly, you raised one hand up your body. Rhys let out an amused chuckle, and allowed it. 

Keeping your eyes on Azriel, you trailed your fingers up, running a knuckle along the curve of your breasts, pinching your nipple between your thumb and forefinger. 

“Do you want him to come over here, darling?” Hesitation. You didn’t want anything that would make Rhys uncomfortable. “It wouldn’t. I’ve had a long time to think about this.”

Fuck. 

“You have a dirty mouth.” 

“I didn’t say anything. I can’t say anything” 

“A dirty mind,” he corrected. “Yes or no?” 

“If you want to, if he wants to” 

“That’s not what I asked,” his tone changed, firmer - demanding an answer. 

“Yes,” even in your mind, you thought your voice sounded breathy. You turned your head to watch Rhys, his eyes glazed over, telling something to Azriel. You heard Azriel moving, and you tried to turn, but Rhys gripped the back of your head and held you in place. You were keenly aware your body was still exposed. 

“What’s your safeword?” 

You swallowed, “Spring.” 

Seconds later, your vision was obscured, another fabric tying tightly over your eyes. You couldn’t see anything, complete darkness. The rest of your senses heightened. The bed shifted, someone was moving - you were moving, kneeling, knees pressing into the soft sheets, hands rested on your thighs. 

“Are you ready?” Rhys wasn’t asking you. 

“Yes,” Azriel’s strained voice came. 

Then, hands were lifting you. Rhys gripped your hips - his hands were familiar, pushing you forwards, but Azriel’s hands, rougher, gripped each of your thighs, spreading your legs out. They worked your body easily, the two of them seeming to know exactly what to do. 

“Breathe,” was Rhys’s only warning, as Azriel - it had to be him, pressed against your entrance. Hands slammed you down, and you yelped - muffled by the gag, a painful stretch as you were fully seated. 

Too much. It was too much, you were too full. 

“You can take it,” Rhys encouraged - this time speaking out loud, he pressed against your upper back, and your hands naturally found their way to his shoulders. You’d never … never been on top of Rhys, at least. Well, not in a while. Rough hands found your hips, encouraging you to move. 

It took you a minute to get your balance, to find a rhythm, but the gentle rocking of your hips, the slight movements, made his heart rate increase, his breaths quickened. Soft, but effective apparently. Gently, his hands ran up and down your sides, brushing over each of your curves, stopping to sweep underneath your breasts. 

Rhys was still behind you, “that’s it,” he murmured into your ear, “you’re doing so well.” 

The little bit of encouragement was what you needed, what you needed to grow bolder. As you did, you were rewarded, and both the gag and blindfold disappeared. 

“Az wants to hear you,” Rhys said with a hint of amusement. 

Az, currently beneath you, watching you with glazed eyes. Faster, you moved faster, starting to push your hips up and down. He groaned as your nails dug into your shoulder, and you had an idea. Not something you could do without permission or asking, that was likely to get you killed at worst, maimed at best. Instead, you eyed the curve of his wing, knowing his shadows would track. You wanted him to invite you, for him to make that choice.

“You can touch them,” he seemed shy - maybe even hesitant. You could feel Rhys’s surprise behind you. “Just don’t stop moving,” he groaned. 

“Be gentle, love,” Rhys spoke to your mind this time. 

Carefully, avoiding any of your nails, you ran a finger over the curve of his left wing, gauging his reaction. He stiffened, eyes closing. Good. Repeating the motions, Rhys grabbed your hips, helping you keep a steady rhythm as Azriel’s eyes stayed closed. 

You liked this, liked that you were both working to bring him here, to give him this kind of pleasure. 

It didn’t take long before Azriel’s fingers were digging into your thighs, stopping you. Sensing it, Rhys pulled you off, just in time for Azriel to finish - all over your stomach.

Rhys disappeared, probably to grab a washcloth, and you moved, trying to give him some kind of space. It wasn’t hard to pick up that was his first time having someone touch his wings - in that way, and you realized the vulnerability in it. Instead, his arm darted out, wrapping around your waist to tug you closer. You let your head rest on his chest, running your hand up and down his arm, listening as his heart settled back to normal. 

This, you wanted to do again. 

“We will.” 

[wandanatswitch]

Hour of the Owl

Pairing: Dowager!Queen Alicent Hightower x Targaryen!Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst w/ happy ending

Summary: “Love can become both a sanctuary and a peril”

Warnings: NSFW +18 minors DNI, age gap (reader is aprox 18, Alicent is aprox 37), step-cest?, mentions of targcest, fingering? (reader receiving) oral (reader receiving), semi-public sex, mentions of infidelity (not between the main characters), religious shame and guilt, mention of suicidal thoughts, emotional dependency/obsession, mentions of homophobia, kinda? Toxic relationship, manipulation, I kinda wrote the reader from a BPD perspective so she could have some traits. Let me know if there's anything missing! NO DANCE OF DRAGONS AU! Note: English is not my first language! And this is my first time writing a fic so please let me know what you think <3 Also there is very few use of Y/N! 

Words: 2.9K

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ⁺

“May I join you, Princess?” 

The oh so familiar voice echoes through the empty gardens of the red keep perturbs your quiet late night stroll.

“Of course, Your Grace…” You reply while looking at the bushes filled with different coloured roses. “Is something the matter?”

 You wished to deny her, you really did… but as always, you failed to do so, you just could not bring yourself to say no to her, nor to reject her presence, the one that made you feel that stupid agonising passion that made you wish it was possible that two people were one. You wanted to be binded to her. You wanted to lay down under the same tree where you kiss her so desperately, and merge with her so you could never be separated from one another ever again.

She approaches ever so carefully, moving her hand slightly forward, making your hands faintly touch… An innocent mistake is what she would answer if you reproach her.

“Not at all” She gently caresses the edge of the rose petals in front of you. “I simply wished to know if you have received any letter from my son” A lie. “I know i have not received one since he left” Another lie. You knew for a fact that Aemond had written to the Dowager Queen, he told you himself in the only letter he had written to you, and you had heard Princess Helaena trying and failing to tell Aegon about what their brother had written to their mother… “Mother said he was vague , but that he was well… he wrote that he is not bored as he expected to be and that he is actually having a good time…” is what you heard Helaena say, but you stopped listening when Aegon groaned at his sister-wife’s words.

“What is your need to lie to me, Your Grace?” You did not look up from the flowers, you did not dare. “You always lie, at this point i find myself believing that lying is the only thing you know how to do”

That gained you a sigh from her “You are right, I apologize…” she whispers “I just wanted to be alone with you—”

“Please, do not say anything else and just leave” you cut her off in a hostile tone but whispered voice “You said it yourself, we are sinful. This is a sin. We are wrong and the Gods will punish us if we do not stop whatever twisted and vile-” she cut you off when she placed her hand on your cheek, caressing it gently with her thumb.

“I know, my darling but—” she tries to plead, but her words get cut off again. You step back, causing her hand to drop back to her side. “You always do this!” you whisper loudly “You always do this! And it is not fair that you get to treat me like a stupid toy that you only wish to hurt!” Tears are rolling down your face at this point, much to your dislike.

“I am so stupidly tired of this, and I simply cannot bear this anymore…” You closed your eyes and tried to be strong and take a deep breath, but it came out shaky and broken. “...I have two children, Alicent… What am I supposed to tell them when they see me cry in front of them because I just can’t take it anymore? That their grandmother's favorite pastime is to hurt me…? 

“Princess, you are speaking foolishly—” The Dowager Queen tries to say calmly, but once again, she finds her words being cut off.

“Am I?!” You are shouting at this point. The anger, the frustration, the pain, the hurt, everything, finally finding a way out. “Yes you are!” The older woman shouted, matching your tone. “My goal has never been to hurt you! Your pain is the last thing I would ever wish for! Ever!” “You are a liar! You have proven yourself to be—”

“I do not lie to hurt you, I lie so I do not lose you!” She starts to lower her voice, although her tone is still full of frustration. “I love you, you know that very well” “No you do not, if anything you despise me” The Targaryen princess tries to say firmly, but her voice wavers from the tears she has spilled “You would have to despise someone to hurt them like you have hurt me” You look at Alicent right in the eyes “Maybe is not me who you wish to hurt. Maybe you wish to hurt my mother and I am nothing more than a discardable piece to accomplish it.” Your breath quickens, your heart hurts and you feel like dying… you feel as if nothing matters anymore, and at this very moment you just wish to die. 

“You just cannot stand the fact that my mother is Queen, can you? And you are not only taking your frustrations out on me, but you are also trying to hurt her through me. That is what I am to you, right?”

“I will not allow you to say such idiotic, and simply untrue words” Alicent is angry. Angry at herself, angry at the Gods… but she is not angry at you, not fully at least. How can she blame you for thinking that? 

She should have been smarter about this whole relationship, the Hightower thought to herself. She should have never given into her sinful desires, but the want overpowered her… If she didn't know better, she would have thought that you were the reward the Gods had given her for enduring more than fifteen years of not only being Viserys' wife, but also a Queen… Turns out you were not her reward, but her damnation.

“I love you, Y/N” She states, her voice unwavering “I do. I love you more than i have ever loved anything before” The auburn haired woman lets out a tired sigh before walking closer to you. She lifts a hand to place at your waist out of pure habit, but she decides against it when she sees the anger and hurt still lingering in the younger girl's eyes. “I do not feel angry at the thought of Rhaenyra sitting on the throne, I promise you that. If anything, I am relieved… I do not have as much responsibility as I had before… And I do have more liberties too, the eyes of the court are not on me anymore, at least most of the time they are not… If Aegon had been crowned king, most of the responsibility still would have been thrown at me, besides I know he would have not been a good king…” Alicent fidgets with her hands as she continues “And the stupid anger i had for your mother, the foolish one sided fight i had with her for years… is over. I know the tension remains, but I promise you, Y/N, I do not hate her, nor do I wish for her downfall or to cause her pain. I wish her well in her reign.” The older woman’s hands grip the fabric of her dress in an attempt to keep her emotions at bay. “So no, you are not “a discardable piece”, Princess” The Princess does not know what to say, so she ultimately decides to sit at a nearby bench in complete silence. “My dear…” Alicent whispers to the younger woman. “I do not believe you.” The princess does not look up from the ground. “I do not believe a word of what you just said.” Alicent has to swallow a sob, but she cannot hold the tears any longer.

“...Why not?” The Hightower whispers as she tries to wipe her falling tears.

“Why…!?” You stand up from the bench and walk towards her, “Why do I not believe you, you ask?! Because like I said before, you have proven yourself to be a liar, Alicent!” The Princess looks up in an attempt to stop more tears to fall, but quickly realizes that it was a futile attempt to stop what she cannot control. “And because you have never once told me about what you just said. You never open up or tell me how you feel! So how am I supposed to believe you?!” The older woman tightens her lips before speaking up. “Alright. You want me to open up? i will.” Alicent steps closer to you and lifts both of her hands to place them on your waist, and this time she decides not to stop the action. “I wish I was born a man so that I could have you like your husband has you. I wish that I was a man so that loving you was not a sin, but I have slowly come to accept that I would gladly be damned to any of the seven hells if it means that I get to have you, to love you, or to even see your face every day. But I still wished that I was born a man… because it is not fair that my own son gets to have you but if I do as much as to touch your hand I will be considered a sinner by the Gods.” She sounds desperate… She looks desperate. 

“I wish I was a man, so I could grab you by your waist, and push you against a wall, and kiss you until you stopped breathing, and do it without fear” Her hands move to your hips. “….If I were a man, I would use you, I would spoil you, I would devour you, but above all I would love you without fear” Alicent’s grip tightens against your hips. “Oh, Princess… How I would love you… If only fate would have been kinder…”

You have stayed quiet up until this point, the words you are hearing have both made you feel like the most loved woman in the seven kingdoms, and the most doomed one at the same time. “...I do  not want you a man, I want you…” You whisper, but your voice does not lack certainty. “I want you as you are…”

Alicent’s eyes look at your own. She is looking at you with such love and tenderness… the kind that makes you melt and doubt if anyone has ever been loved like that before. “I know, sweetling…” The woman’s right hand moves to your tear stained cheek.

You look at Alicent with a pained expression “I love you” Your hand reaches her cheek as you lean forward for a kiss. You kiss her softly, trying to demonstrate with a kiss all the love you feel for her.

On the other hand, Alicent needs you. She needs to feel you, she needs to taste you, she needs to love you… So she deepens the kiss and squeezes your hips. You break the kiss, but not the distance. As you two look at each other, Alicent’s hands move up from your hips to your back. She wastes no time in starting to undo them with practiced ease. “Alicent—” She finishes unlacing your dress, making it loose on you. “Shhh my dear…  We will be fine…” The older woman utters before kneeling on the soft grass and extending her hand to you, a silent invitation.

As soon as you kneel, her hands are on you again, taking off your dress. You gently grab her face and pull her in for a hungry kiss, which makes her moan in your mouth. 

The princess’ hands are tangled in the Hightowers' hair, pulling her as close as possible, trying to become one with the woman that she loves oh so dearly.

As soon as your dress is out of the way, and you are only covered by your undergarments, Alicent’s mouth shifts to your collarbone, peppering kisses as she works on removing your undergarments. She was like a woman starved. She needs you, and you need her just as much. When your undergarments are not an obstacle anymore, her mouth reaches your breasts. She kisses the soft flesh with a mix of love and hurry, making your throat release sweet gasps and making your back arch.

Oh Gods, the sounds… They only fueled Alicent’s want more and more, and it did not help that your fingers had started to unlace her dress, making it each second more and more loose.

You needed that damned dress off of her, you needed to take it off of her just as she had taken yours off of you. You needed to feel her bare body against yours. You needed her in the way you have never needed anything else… In fact, you are sure that nobody else has ever experienced this kind of need and want.

Alicent continues worshipping your breasts as if they were deities themselves. Her tongue licks your nipple while her hand massages the other, and the moans that come out of your mouth are inevitable.

You finally manage to take the dress off of her, leaving her only in her undergarments… But still, that was more clothing that you wanted her in. “I think it is a little unfair that you have those on while I am almost completely bare, do you not think so?”

The older woman sits up a little bit, stopping her ministrations on your breasts. “You are right, princess… It is not at all fair” Right after she says those words, she removes the upper part of her undergarments, leaving her chest exposed to you. Your mouth finds itself immediately in her breasts… kissing, biting, licking…

A sweet moan falls from her lips , causing you to softly moan in return.

Alicent gently pushes you to lay on the grass, but not before putting your dress as a blanket for you to lay on, causing you to smile at her caring act. “I love you so much… I did not think it was possible to love this much…” You whisper to her, and those may be the truest words you have ever said.

“I love you too. More than anything” She lays down next to you, and instantly kisses you again while she runs her hands through your body. “You are all I need, and there is no such thing as something that I would not do for you, my sweetest girl”

Alicent’s hand reaches your hips and as soon as she grabs the hem of the bottom part of your undergarments, she slides them down your legs.

“We should go to my chambers… or yours, anyone could see us here—” Your words are stopped when two of her digits rub your clit in the way only she could “Oh Gods…!”

Any thought of getting caught had suddenly vanished from your mind, and instead, it was replaced by pleasure and Alicent’s name.

“No one will see us, my darling” She moves her fingers faster, while her other hand caresses your hair “It is the hour of the owl…” She stops her movements so she can position herself between your legs “And everyone knows that this pacific garden is yours, my love, no one will come, do not worry in vain” She reassures you once she is kneeled in between your legs. 

The only response you could give to her was a weak nod, but that quickly changed once her tongue made contact with your core, making you moan her name. 

Your hands made their way to Alicent’s hair, tangling themselves between the strands. The only thoughts you had were of Alicent, nothing more, nothing less. 

One of Alicent’s hands grips one of your thighs, while the other one travels up and towards your chest.

The Dowager Queen was lost on you. On your taste, on how you feel, on how you sound… This is everything she could ever want.

“Alicent…!” You moan loudly as your back arches, involuntarily searching for more. “Alicent I’m close…!”

The older woman's hand reaches for your own, stopping her movements on your breast , and instead intertwines her fingers with yours.

“Go ahead, my darling” Alicent says without moving away from your clit, softly moaning at the taste.

Your grip on your love’s hair tightens, and your eyes roll back. It felt as if you were on fire, and you never wanted it to end… You moan and gasp Alicent’s name as you reach your climax,  your hips bucking up towards your lover’s mouth to ride the last waves of pleasure.

Alicent crawls up and lays next to you… Her hand gently caresses your body as she places a sweet kiss on your lips, when she pulls away she takes her time to admire you… spent, panting, and underneath the moonlight. 

“...Run away with me…”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

Family

Benedict Bridgerton x wife fem reader

The Bridgerton household was unusually calm that morning, a rarity in a home filled with the lively energy of four young children. Benedict Bridgerton, known for his creative spirit and easygoing demeanor, had decided that today would be a day for family, free from the usual hustle and bustle of their social obligations. His wife, Y/N, welcomed the idea of a relaxing day at home with a delighted smile, eager to spend quality time with their children.

The sun streamed through the large windows of their elegant country estate, casting a warm glow across the rooms. Benedict and Y/N had designed their home to be a sanctuary of comfort and beauty, a place where their children could grow and thrive surrounded by love and creativity.

In the spacious kitchen, Y/N was preparing a hearty breakfast. The delicious aroma of freshly baked scones and crispy bacon filled the air, mingling with the scent of brewing coffee. Benedict, ever the doting husband, moved about the kitchen with an easy grace, assisting Y/N with setting the table and entertaining their youngest daughter, Emily, who was tugging at his trousers, giggling.

“Papa, lift me!” Emily demanded with a bright, toothy grin.

Benedict scooped her up effortlessly, spinning her around in a playful dance. Her laughter echoed through the room, drawing the attention of her siblings. Alexander, the eldest at ten, walked in with a book in his hand, followed closely by the twins, Charlotte and Henry, both eight, who were in the midst of a playful argument.

“Papa, tell Charlotte that it’s my turn to choose the game today!” Henry protested, his expression a mix of frustration and determination.

Before Benedict could respond, Y/N intervened with a calm, soothing voice. “Why don’t we all decide together what we’d like to do today? It’s a family day, after all.”

Charlotte and Henry paused, considering their mother’s suggestion. Alexander, wise beyond his years, nodded in agreement. “That sounds fair. What do you think, Papa?”

Benedict smiled, setting Emily down gently. “I think your mother is right. Let’s finish our breakfast, and then we’ll sit down and make a plan for the day.”

As they gathered around the large wooden table, the children’s chatter filled the room with a lively warmth. They discussed their options, ranging from a picnic in the garden to an afternoon of painting and crafts in Benedict’s art studio. After much deliberation, they decided on a bit of everything a picnic, followed by a painting session, and ending the day with a family movie night.

With breakfast finished, they set about preparing for their picnic. Y/N packed a basket with sandwiches, fruits, and a selection of pastries, while Benedict and the children gathered blankets and games to take outside. They chose a spot under a large oak tree in the garden, its branches providing ample shade.

Just as they were about to head out, the front door burst open, and in streamed the entire Bridgerton clan. Anthony, the eldest of Benedict's siblings, led the charge with his wife, Kate, and their children close behind. They were followed by the rest of the Bridgerton siblings: Daphne and her husband, Simon, with their children; Colin and his wife, Penelope; Eloise and Francesca, each with their own families; Gregory and Hyacinth, the youngest siblings, rounding out the lively group.

"Benedict, Y/N!" Anthony called out, a broad smile on his face. "We thought we'd join you for a day of family fun!"

Benedict's face lit up with surprise and joy. "This is a wonderful surprise! The more, the merrier!"

The garden quickly transformed into a vibrant hub of activity. The children ran around, playing games and exploring the vast grounds, while the adults spread out blankets and set up a buffet style picnic. Laughter and conversations filled the air, creating an atmosphere of warmth and happiness.

After lunch, Benedict suggested they all play a game of charades, a favorite Bridgerton family pastime. The idea was met with enthusiastic cheers, and they quickly gathered in the large living room, rearranging furniture to create an open space for the game.

Anthony took charge of organizing the teams, dividing everyone into two groups. Benedict, ever the performer, was up first. He drew a card from the pile and glanced at it, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Alright, let's see what you've got," Colin teased from the opposing team.

Benedict began his act, first miming the shape of a rectangle with his hands and then pretending to hold something heavy. He staggered around the room, his exaggerated movements eliciting giggles from the children and knowing smiles from the adults.

"He's lifting something! A box?" Daphne guessed.

Benedict shook his head vigorously, moving on to the next part of his act. He began to flail his arms wildly, pretending to be caught in a storm. The children burst into laughter, their infectious giggles spreading to the adults.

"A boat! No, a shipwreck!" Y/N called out, trying to contain her laughter.

Benedict nodded eagerly, then dropped to the floor, pretending to swim through turbulent waters. He finally mimed pulling something large and round from the water, holding it triumphantly over his head.

"A giant pearl! A treasure!" Alexander shouted, his eyes wide with excitement.

Benedict pointed at Alexander, nodding with satisfaction. The room erupted in applause and laughter, the children jumping up and down with glee.

"You really outdid yourself this time, brother," Anthony said, clapping Benedict on the back.

The game continued with everyone taking turns, each performance more hilarious than the last. Penelope's impression of a horse had everyone in stitches, while Hyacinth's attempt at miming a famous opera singer brought the house down.

As the afternoon sun began to wane, the family gathered in Benedict’s art studio for a collective painting session. The room, filled with canvases and art supplies, was a haven of creativity. Benedict, with his usual charm, encouraged everyone to express their creativity, handing out brushes and paints. Even the most reluctant participants found themselves caught up in the spirit of the activity, creating a large collaborative mural that would serve as a lasting memory of the day.

When evening came, they moved to the living room for the grand finale: a family movie night. Pillows and blankets were spread out across the floor, and the children nestled in with their cousins, eyes wide with anticipation. The chosen movie was a family favorite, a whimsical adventure that captivated everyone from the youngest to the oldest.

As the credits rolled and the children began to drift off to sleep, Benedict and Y/N, along with the rest of the Bridgertons, carried them to their rooms, tucking them into bed with gentle kisses and whispered goodnights. The house gradually fell silent, the peace of the evening settling over them.

Back in their bedroom, Benedict and Y/N reflected on the day, their hearts brimming with gratitude. Benedict pulled Y/N into a tender embrace, his voice soft with emotion. “Days like this remind me of how lucky we are, my love.”

Y/N smiled, resting her head on his chest. “Indeed, Benedict. Our family is our greatest masterpiece.”

With that, they climbed into bed, the gentle rhythm of their children’s breaths a comforting lullaby. They drifted off to sleep, knowing that while life was often filled with chaos and demands, it was moments like these that truly defined their happiness.

like and comment 🫶🏼

[roosterforme]

Math for Aviators | Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: It's your fault that Bradley finds math so sexy now. When he surprises you by sneaking into one of your lectures, he gets rewarded with a little time alone with the professor after class.

Warnings: Fluff, swears and smut

Length: 2400 words

Pairing: Beer Boy and Sugar! Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader (former fuckboy college student Bradley)

This is a one-shot to accompany my fics Old Habits Die Hard and Right Girl, Wrong Time! Check out my masterlist

"See you two at the Hard Deck later?" Nat asked as Bradley climbed into the Bronco after work.

"Nah, it's my wife's late night on campus," he replied with a smirk. Calling you his wife had such a nice ring to it, he had all but stopped using your first name around his friends. "I'm gonna drop by. Maybe take a peek at her calculus lecture." 

She rolled her eyes in response. "Tell your wife I said not to forget about brunch on Saturday."

"I'll let my wife know."

He zipped out of the parking lot, still in his khaki uniform, and headed across town to San Diego State University. If there was one thing Bradley never thought would get him going, it was math. But you made it outrageously sexy with your PhD and your slutty little math tattoo. 

The fact that Bradley never got to attend one of your lectures during your first semester teaching in California felt like a crime. He'd wanted to, in the worst way, but your classes ended by six o'clock every day last term. But this time, you taught level four calculus on Thursday evenings. 

He parked and headed toward your building, smiling as some of the college aged girls looked at him as he strolled past. If they thought he looked good in his uniform, that was nothing compared to the fuss you usually made over him. 

Bradley followed a kid holding a skateboard into the mathematics and computer science building and turned left. He was only four minutes late for your class as he followed skateboard kid inside the lecture hall and let the door close softly behind him. The room was quite cavernous, but there were only about forty students in attendance. You always claimed you preferred the smaller classes so you could spend more time getting everyone where they needed to be individually. 

When his eyes met your body, Bradley almost moaned. You were leaning over the long table at the front of the room taking attendance, and you were wearing a white blouse tucked into that wool skirt he liked. Even your loafers looked cute. One of his favorite pastimes was picking on you for your east coast wardrobe, but holy shit, the professor look did things to him. Or maybe it was just you.

As you called out names, Bradley realized he was just standing in the back like an idiot, so he walked up a few rows and took an aisle seat.

"Francis?" you asked, and a girl who looked extremely disinterested raised her hand. "Luca? Alex? Did I miss anyone?"

When you looked up, your eyes found Bradley's almost instantly. The softest smile graced your lips, and Bradley desperately wanted to run down to where you were standing and kiss you. Instead he just winked, and then you were opening two additional notebooks on your table. 

"Before we get started, just a reminder about my office hours," you said, your voice projecting beautifully. Bradley had to adjust himself in his seat, because you were speaking right to him. "I'm always available to spend a little extra time with you should you need it." 

He was well acquainted with your office and the way your voice echoed off the walls when he made you scream his name. He would make it a point to join you for some office hours again soon. But right now, he was going to sit back and enjoy how much smarter you were than him.

"If you recall last week, we talked about the theorems of Green and Stokes. Let's focus a little more on the Green theorem. This is simply the relationship between the macroscopic circulation around the curve C and the sum of all the microscopic circulation that is inside C."

Bradley was already breathing a little heavy. Holy shit. Was he actually married to the smartest person in the world? It fucking sounded like it. And then you ran your fingertips gently along the side of your neck, and he sat up a little taller in his seat. But so did skateboard kid who was sitting in front of him. Bradley glanced around the room, and it looked like all the twenty something guys were hypnotized by you. The looks of open adoration on their faces as you turned toward the white board to work out a problem reminded him of the way he used to stare at you when he was twenty one. If he was being honest, he probably still did.

As you worked out the problem and bent at the waist, Bradley needed to adjust himself again. And when you turned to see if anyone had a question, you looked directly at him as you touched your neck again. 

"She's so hot," skateboard kid whispered to the guy next to him.

"Yeah," he grunted in response. "She's like extra hot today."

Bradley leaned forward, grinning and softly said, "That's my wife."

They both turned around to look at him briefly. Skateboard kid nodded in appreciation, and the other guy said, "Well done."

And then Bradley settled back in his seat and watched every move that you made. When you wrote out another equation in your tidy handwriting, you made the variables spell out B-E-E-R-B-O-Y. Every time you glanced at him, your fingers were touching your body somewhere that he was familiar with. He was itching to get his hands on you. 

It was an hour and a half of pure sexual tension, and Bradley knew you were enjoying yourself. Knowing he was sitting in the lecture hall seemed to be making your voice a little breathy. You were throwing out terms like "gradient, divergence curl, line and surface integrals, and differential equations" that were making him hard. This was foreplay at its finest. 

When you ended your lecture with some reminders about your class schedule, you had your hands on your hips, and your diamond ring was glittering on your hand. Bradley smirked as a line of students, mostly male, formed in front of you once you dismissed everyone. And now he understood why you got home so late on Thursdays. Because all these guys had a crush on you. On his wife.

Bradley was semi hard, and you kept glancing up to make sure he was still there. He wasn't going to go anywhere, you must know that. When you were finally helping skateboard kid with whatever question he fabricated just to have a chance to stand next to you, Bradley glanced down at his lap. Maybe you'd let him have some private office hours right now.

When the lecture hall was finally empty, save for the two of you, Bradley watched as you continued to tease him. You didn't glance to where he was sitting at all as you packed up your bag. And when you erased the board, he could tell you were standing on your tiptoes to make your ass look extra enticing just for him. 

"Professor Sugar," he groaned, rubbing himself through his khaki pants. 

You glanced at him over your shoulder with a devilish look on your face. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming to my lecture?" you asked quietly, but he could still hear you perfectly. 

Bradley grunted. "Got dismissed a little early. Just thought I'd surprise you."

"Did you learn anything new?" you asked, grabbing your bag from the table and heading his way.

"Nothing new," he replied. "Just a refresher course on how smart and hot my wife is."

You smiled as you set your bag down next to his seat. "I love it when you call me that." Then you came to stand between his spread thighs and leaned down to kiss him gently. Bradley let you tease him with feather soft kisses for a minute before he was aching inside his pants. 

He ran his rough hand along your pretty neck and asked, "Can I join you for some office hours? I really need them, Professor Sugar." When you giggled against his lips, Bradley wrapped his muscular arms around you and palmed your ass, pulling you onto his lap with a squeal. 

"Beer Boy!"

"Please? I'll be your top student, Baby. Better than that loser with his skateboard."

"You know, I'm starting to suspect that Luca might have ulterior motives for taking my class again this semester."

Bradley chuckled as he pushed your skirt up your thighs a few inches. "Yeah. His ulterior motive is your ass." Then he lightly slapped said ass as you raked your fingers through his hair and straddled him in the auditorium seat. "I know you can feel me, Sugar," he whispered. "Office hours? Or are you gonna make me wait until we get home?"

But instead of responding, you just rubbed yourself against him. If you weren't wearing panties, he would have a pretty, little wet spot to show off as he walked back to the Bronco. You tugged harder on his hair so his head was tipped back, and you kissed him a little rougher.

"I'm in charge in the lecture hall, not you. And I say no visit to my office."

Bradley groaned as you sucked on his neck, and he muttered, "Making me walk back to the Bronco hard?"

"No," you whispered, and his cock throbbed. "I'm going to suck your cock right here." Your smug smile as you pulled away from his neck left him blushing, he could tell. 

"Right here?" he asked, but your hands were already working on his belt buckle and zipper, and he lifted his hips in the seat so you could yank his pants down a little bit. 

"Mmhmm," you hummed against his lips before you walked to the back of the auditorium, leaving him sitting there with his hard cock out. 

"Sugar?" he whispered, covering himself with both hands as he craned his neck to see where you went. You flipped the lightswitch next to the door and peered out the small window into the hallway, and then you strolled back to where he was sitting. Bradley let you take his hands in yours and set them on his thighs as you knelt on the floor in front of him.

You looked so pretty, your skin illuminated by the soft lighting shining around the perimeter of the room. Your eyes were bright and mischievous as you looked up at him and kissed the precum away from his tip. Your pink tongue darted out to clean your lips before gently swiping the underside of his cock, and Bradley had to grip his thighs to keep from thrusting. Because it was clear you were going to take your time right now. 

"You are so hard, Beer Boy, you're absolutely throbbing."

When you took an inch or two between your pouty lips, Bradley's head tipped back. "I love math," he groaned. "It really gets me going. And I love your smart mouth."

You hummed around his length as you took another inch and swirled your tongue. Then you pulled him out with a soft pop, his head snapping back up to look at you. "You're such a good student," you whispered. "Top grades. Teacher's pet. Big cock."

"Fuck," Bradley grunted. "I'm coming to your lecture every week, Professor."

You smiled as you gripped him in one hand and licked up and down along the underside of his cock until he could feel your saliva dripping down his balls. He ran his thumb along your cheek, and then you took him deep so he could feel himself there. He groaned your name as he tapped the back of your throat, and you gagged for him. It was so fucking pretty the way he made your eyes water. 

If you weren't concerned about getting caught, then he certainly wasn't going to bring it up. He'd be lying if he said the idea of a public blowjob wasn't adding to his arousal. Hell, he thought the way you and he went at it in the college library study room was hot, and that door had a damn lock. So this was next level.

Bradley grunted in the quiet room, and the acoustics made the sound carry. You were bobbing along his length, making obscene little noises, and he just couldn't take it anymore. His hands found the back of your head, and after one thrust, your moans echoed around the room. 

"I love that sound," he growled, slowly fucking your face as you sucked on him. You kept eye contact with him as he started to come undone, his hips leaving the seat as he wanted more of you. Now you were gripping his thighs, ready to take his cum like a champ. He was there. He was right there. One more tap against the back of your throat. All your saliva dripping onto your blouse. It was everything. 

He knew you already knew it, but he grunted, "I'm cumming," as he spurted into your mouth and down your throat. Gripping the back of your head, he fucked your mouth with shallow thrusts until he slumped back akwardly into the seat with a long groan that filled the room. 

When you withdrew him, his cock was messy and you were grinning as you stuck out your tongue, showing off his load. "Gorgeous," he whispered with a smirk, watching you swallow him down before licking his softening length clean. "I love being the teacher's pet." 

You giggled as you helped him get tucked back into his khakis. "I only suck the dicks of my students with the highest grades."

"Hey now. You're my wife. You better only be sucking my dick," he rasped as you stood up in front of him and shrugged.

"Then you better keep getting top grades, Beer Boy." 

Bradley was obsessed with you. He quickly wrestled his belt into place as he followed the sway of your ass up to the auditorium doors. "I can't wait to see that skirt on the bedroom floor when we get home," he said as you pushed the door open. And there stood the janitor, about to enter the room to clean it. "Shit," Bradley grunted, still fiddling with his belt. 

But you just waved and said, "Goodnight, Herman," as the janitor smirked at Bradley. 

He didn't even bother with his belt after that. He just took your hand in his and walked with you to the Bronco, thinking about all the things he wanted to do to you once your skirt was on the bedroom floor. 

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

This was written to celebrate the birthday of the lovely @mak-32 ! Beer Boy and Sugar wouldn't even exist without you, Mak! I hope you have the most wonderful day! Thanks for your help and the banner @beyondthesefourwalls

@hotch-meeeeeuppppp

@swthxrry

@chassy21

@yaboid19

@solacestyles

@avoirlecoupdefoudre

@daisyhollyxox

@throwinsauce

@awesomebooklover17

@wintercap89

@whosyourgnomie4

@rosesinmars

@blog-name6996

@bcon24

@wishfulwithwine

@backinwonderl4nd

@tetragonia

@gingerbreadandpaper

@emptyloverofmine

@chaoticassidy

@missmirandafe

@changlingkhat

@sugarcoated-lame

@avada-kedavra-bitch-187

@katiebby04

@marantha

@averyhotchner

@abaker74

@andycanbeemotional

@heli991113

@k-k0129

@noz4a2

@tallyovie

@shanimallina87

@starlightstories

@teddyluvs2sing

@little-wiseone

@ccbb2222

@lilyevanswhore

@o-the-o-grim-o-reaper-o

@xoxabs88xox

[ellieslaces]

just thinking about the way leon would fuck you after being gone for so long <3 (wc; 643)

he would have been gone for days — weeks maybe — on another covert operation. one you couldn’t have any knowledge of for you safety, and just for the safety of the op and everyone involved.

weeks of lonely days and nights alone in your apartment that you shared with him, the quiet eerie and unsettling because even though leon was a quiet person, he still made the place more alive.

it’d been weeks of getting off on your own — for the both of you. only the thought of each other enough to suffice. not forever, though. you’d spent the nights he was away either sleepless, or fucking yourself with your own fingers, drawing orgasm after orgasm out of yourself until you fell asleep from exhaustion. but of course, no one did it like leon did. no one — not even yourself — could make you cum as hard as he did.

the night he’d come home was like any other of his arrivals home. a mixture of sweetness and lust. gentle kisses and whispers of how much you missed each other. carnal actions and rough touches because this was how you showed your love, how you showed how you really missed each other.

you didn’t just miss each other’s bodies, of course not. no, you missed him. yes, his touch, how he could reduce you to a crying mess within minutes. but he was more than that. you just missed him.

it always started either in the foyer of the apartment, or the living room. there were a few times it started in the kitchen — one night a few months ago he’d managed to surprise you while you were cooking. obviously dinner was long forgotten as he replaced the meal with the taste of you as you laid on the counter, legs thrown over his shoulders as he devoured you with an urgency that should have alarmed you.

but tonight, it began as it usually did. you’d greeted him at the door upon hearing his car in the driveway. as soon as he’d opened the door, you had thrown your arms around his neck, his own strong ones circled around your middle. quick kisses and whispers of greeting were pushed aside quickly and replaced by needy touches and deep, carnal kisses.

it ended up in the bedroom, as usual. your back against the plush mattress, your body caged by leon’s as he kissed down your body, clothes long since discarded so he could have access to you fully. his hands would be practically groping you, large palms running along the warm, exposed flesh of your torso. his fingers — along with his mouth, of course — ended up between your thighs. his favorite pastime, tasting you, as he liked to tease.

his fingers and tongue worked in dangerous tandem, making your mouth drop open, your eyes falling closed as your fingers gripped his hair. before you could actually tip over that impending edge, he pulled back. always keeping you on your toes.

it was then he began to drill into you. needy fervor with a mixture of soft kisses that contrasted with the harsh snap of his hips against yours. sweet whispers of how much he missed you were echoing in your ears, drowned out by the sound of your own whines and moans.

it went on that way — he’d fuck you until you both came, and give you a quick rest before going right back to it. sometimes he’d be on top, other times you’d ride him until your legs gave out and he’d have to thrust up into you from below. either way, it lasted for what felt like forever.

you hated when he was gone, but you’d never grow tired of how insatiable he was when he came home. sweet and loving, harsh and rough all at once. that was your favorite version of leon.

how you can support Palestine! 🇵🇸

[d-targaryenshoe]

Subtle Admiration - Anthony Bridgerton

Word Count: 1176

Summary: When one admires the person they love, would they not also show the world?

Anthony Bridgerton was a man of impeccable standards and unwavering convictions, known throughout London for his sense of duty and commitment to his family.

As the head of the Bridgerton family, his actions were often scrutinized, and his decisions influenced the lives of his siblings.

Yet, despite his formidable exterior, he harbored a deep, unyielding love for his wife, you, a love that he was determined to showcase to his family.

It was a crisp spring morning, and the Bridgerton household was abuzz with activity.

their late father, Edmund Bridgerton upheldThe family had gathered for breakfast, a tradition upheld by their late father, Edmund Bridgerton.

Anthony, seated at the head of the table, observed his siblings with a mix of affection and amusement.

Each one was unique, yet they shared an unbreakable bond.

As Anthony sipped his coffee, his gaze drifted to you, seated beside him.

You were engaged in a lively conversation with Eloise, your laughter like a melodious tune that brightened the room.

Anthony's heart swelled with pride and adoration.

You had seamlessly woven yourself into the fabric of the family, your warmth and wit endearing you to each of his siblings.

"Anthony, you're staring," Daphne teased, her eyes twinkling with mischief. "Do you have something to say?"

Anthony chuckled, setting his cup down. "As a matter of fact, I do." He stood, drawing the attention of everyone at the table.

"I've been thinking a great deal about family lately, about how fortunate I am to have all of you in my life. But there's someone here who has brought me an immeasurable amount of joy and fulfillment, someone who has made our family even more complete."

He reached for your hand, helping you to your feet. "Y/n, you have been a beacon of light in my life, and I want everyone to know just how much you mean to me."

You blushed, your eyes shimmering with love. "Anthony, you're too kind."

"No, my dear," he said, his voice filled with emotion. "I am simply stating the truth. You have shown me what it means to truly love and to be loved. You've brought laughter and happiness into our home, and for that, I am eternally grateful."

Benedict, seated across the table, raised his glass. "To y/n, the heart of our family!"

"To y/n!" the family echoed, lifting their glasses in unison.

Anthony smiled, his heart brimming with contentment.

He had always known that his love for you was profound, but now, standing before his family, he realized that his affection for you was boundless.

He was determined to ensure that everyone saw the depth of his feelings, not just in words but in actions as well.

Later that day, Anthony took you for a stroll, a favorite pastime of yours.

The park was a riot of colors, the flowers in full bloom, and the air filled with the sweet scent of spring.

As you walked hand in hand, Anthony couldn't help but steal glances at you, marveling at your beauty and grace.

"You're unusually quiet today," you remarked, a playful smile on your lips. "What's on your mind?"

Anthony stopped, turning to face you. "You. Always you." He cupped your face in his hands, his eyes searching yours. "I want the world to see how much I adore you, how you've changed my life for the better. You deserve to be celebrated every day."

Your eyes softened, and you leaned into his touch. "Anthony, you do celebrate me, in so many ways. Your love is more than enough."

"But it's not enough for me," he insisted. "I want to do more, to show you off to the world, to our family. They need to see how deeply I cherish you."

You laughed softly. "You have a romantic soul, Anthony Bridgerton. Very well, if it makes you happy, I shall allow you to spoil me."

Anthony grinned, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "It makes me very happy indeed."

True to his word, Anthony set about planning a series of events and gatherings where he could showcase his love for you.

He organized family picnics, soirées, and even a grand ball in your honor.

Each occasion was meticulously planned, with every detail reflecting his admiration for you.

At one such gathering, a garden party held at Aubrey Hall, the Bridgerton estate, Anthony outdid himself.

The gardens were transformed into a magical wonderland, with twinkling fairy lights and fragrant flowers adorning every corner.

Guests mingled and laughed, the air filled with the sounds of music and merriment.

As the sun began to set, Anthony took your hand and led you to the center of the garden, where a string quartet played a soft, romantic melody.

He held you close, swaying gently to the music.

"You've outdone yourself, Anthony," you whispered, your eyes shining with happiness. "This is beautiful."

"Not as beautiful as you," he replied, his voice filled with love. "I wanted everyone to see what I see every day—the incredible woman who has stolen my heart."

You rested your head against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart. "I love you. More than words can say."

"And I love you," he murmured, kissing the top of your head. "More than anything in this world."

As you danced under the stars, surrounded by family and friends, Anthony knew that he had succeeded in his mission.

He had shown everyone just how much you meant to him, and in doing so, he had strengthened the bond of your family even further.

In the days that followed, Anthony continued to find ways to express his love for you, both grand and small.

He would surprise you with handwritten love letters, leave your favorite flowers by your bedside, and steal moments alone with you whenever he could.

Each gesture, no matter how simple, was a testament to his unwavering devotion.

The Bridgerton family, too, embraced you with open arms. They admired Anthony's dedication and the way he openly cherished you.

It brought a new sense of warmth and unity to the gatherings, a reminder of the power of love and the importance of expressing it.

One evening, as you sat by the fireplace in your home, you turned to Anthony with a thoughtful expression.

"Do you know what I love most about you?" you asked.

Anthony raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "What is that?"

"Your heart," you said softly. "Your ability to love so deeply and to show that love so openly. It's a rare and beautiful thing."

He smiled, his heart swelling with pride. "And do you know what I love most about you?"

"What's that?" you asked, your eyes twinkling with curiosity.

"Everything," he replied, leaning in to kiss you. "Absolutely everything."

As you sat together, wrapped in each other's arms, Anthony knew that he had found his true soulmate in you.

You were his anchor, his confidante, and the love of his life.

And he was determined to spend every day showing you just how much you meant to him, letting the world see the depth of his affection.

[ellstersmash]

Prompt time! Solas and Athi discuss at length if the other would love them as a worm. Please and thank you 🙏

“Are you comfortable in that form?”

Athi’s voice cuts into the quiet of the Fade and Solas’ own silent musings, the path they’re currently on less twisting, and therefore less mentally demanding, than most.

“This form?” he responds. “Or do you refer to another?”

“You know, most people don’t have to specify that.”

“I believe we can agree that I am not most people.”

Athi’s features scrunch together in amusement as she most certainly prepares to tease him—her favorite pastime, not that the Fade provides much of a variety from which to choose. “So true,” she says, the sing-song notes of it echoing in the shifting emptiness around them. “You’re very special.”

“Your approval of my circumstances is paramount,” he states dryly. “Which form are you currently curious about?”

“Your new—or, well, old—spirit form. It’s very… tendrily.”

Solas chuckles. “I can say with great confidence that I have never before been accused of being ‘tendrily.’”

“Love that we’re still finding firsts. Don’t you?” Athi nudges him with an elbow. The self-satisfied smile on her face makes its own light, her playfulness a beacon in the dull dark of this domain.

“You are right,” he says, “and I should hardly be surprised that you are still able to surprise me.”

“Or maybe you should be surprised by my surprising you, otherwise it’s not much of a surprise, is it? But back to my question: do you like to hang around as your tendrily spirit-self?”

“It is not so dissimilar to this one.”

“It floats.”

“Well, yes.”

“And you don’t have hands.”

Solas chuckles. “But many tendrils, as I’ve been recently informed. Besides, one does not need appendages to affect the Fade; only a capable mind and sufficient will.”

“Well, you need appendages to affect me,” Athi mumbles.

Solas grins over at her then, waiting until he catches her eye to lean closer, lower his voice, and ask, “Do I?”

She’s not the only one with the power to tease. It has the intended effect, of course: her eyes widen and unfocus for a few long moments, the air thickening with desire before she shakes it off.

“So is that a yes, then?” she asks.

“Yes, I am comfortable in that form, as I am comfortable in this one.”

“But not the wolf.”

This is not something he’s considered, and he takes his time answering. “The Dread Wolf was born of a specific need to threaten the evanuris and as a show of power and protection for those who would escape or oppose them. And, as you know, it takes a great deal of energy to maintain. I would not call it ‘comfortable’ by any stretch of the definition.”

“Cute, though.”

Solas rolls his eyes at her flippancy. “I refuse to dignify that statement with a response.”

“That is a response.” But she takes his hand and squeezes, warmth diffusing into Solas’ chest as her affection washes over him in gentle waves.

Some time later, it occurs to him to wonder why she brought this subject up in the first place. “Are you comfortable with my spirit form, Athi?”

“I mean, sure. It’s just new. And it is different, at least to me. Not as solid.”

“Different in a bad way?”

“No. I mean, yes in some ways. Harder to kiss you, for one thing.” She squeezes his hand again. “Also I’m never really sure which eyes to look into.”

“In truth, that form does not have eyes, or even sight in the way you’d experience it.” 

Athi looks up at him, a vacant expression which he can only classify as bewilderment on her face.

“There are other senses which allow me to perceive the world,” he continues. “Ones which are very difficult to explain to someone who cannot experience them, but rest assured that I know where you are and what you are doing, whether in spirit form or this one.”

“That clears things up less than I think you think it does.”

“I am sorry. Perhaps you might simply choose your favorite ‘eye’ with which to maintain contact as we converse.”

“Right, I’ll give that a go.” 

“Does it truly bother you? Does it change your opinion of me?”

Athi stops short, her hand still clasped in his tugging him to a halt in turn. “What? No, it doesn’t ‘bother’ me. It’s just different. And I have to be different with it.”

“But I am still…” He is unsure how to ask the right question, but feels it imperative that he discover the answer. “I am still Solas, to you? Even when I wear that form?”

“Who else would you be?”

“Does it change how you feel about me? Your—” It is still so hard for him to accept the concept that even forming the word is a challenge. “Your love for me?”

“Oh.” Athi’s whole being relaxes on a sigh and a soft smile. She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses two of his knuckles. “Don’t be ridiculous. Nothing can change that.”

“Well. That is a relief. Thank you.”

They continue along their path, but the quiet hardly has time to settle back in when Athi speaks again.

“Solas?”

He hums an acknowledgement.

“If I were in a different form, would you still love me?”

The answer is obvious, but he entertains the subject. “Temporarily?”

“No, I think permanently.”

“Of course I would. It is your spirit that I adore—though I am fond of your form as well.”

She laughs brightly. “Good answer! But what if it was really different? Like a fish? Or a worm? What if you woke up one day and I was a worm?”

“Is your spirit intact within this worm?”

“Let’s say yes.”

“Then yes, I would still love you. And I would learn to love your worm form in time.”

“Okay.” She’s silent long enough that he thinks the matter dropped, then: “But what if my spirit was changed, too? What if I had a worm spirit now?”

“That would be an impossibility.” Even more impossible than the premise, but he keeps that to himself. “If your spirit was no longer yours, but a worm’s, then there would be no you within it. I would cherish your memory into eternity, and leave the worm to live out its life.”

Athi gasps and stops again, dropping his hand to match her other one on her hip. “You would leave me?!”

“It would not be you, vhenan. It would be a worm.”

“But I would be the worm!”

“You’re not the worm. Without your spirit, the worm is just a worm.”

“What if I was always the worm?”

She appears genuinely distressed, and Solas isn’t sure he can reason his way out of a conversation this ridiculous. “Then we likely would never have met. You would not love me either.”

“You don’t know that!”

Solas sighs heavily, cradling his temples in one hand. “I fear we’ve stepped out of the incredibly hypothetical discussion we began and into a deeper one.”

Athi starts ahead without him. “You’ve certainly stepped into something.”

[hestiaswifey]

Lots of smiles

The air shimmered, then rippled like a heatwave, and then, there he was. A figure with cat ears and tail,

lounging against a marble pillar in the bustling marketplace of Olympus.

His amber eyes, flecked with gold, were fixed on the chaos with an amusement that bordered on cruelty. It was you, the God of Inconsistence, or as Hermes, perched on the edge of a nearby fountain, preferred to call you, 'The Cheshire Cat.'

'Another day, another drama,' Hermes sighed, taking a long sip of nectar. He wasn't particularly surprised to see you here, though. You were notorious for popping up in the most unexpected places, your presence always a welcome, if slightly unnerving, change of pace.

'Oh, it's a delight,' you purred, your voice a low rumble that sent shivers down Hermes' spine. 'But wouldn't it be even more delightful if we added a little spice to the mix?' Your tail twitched, and a mischievous grin stretched across your face.

'What do you have in mind?' Hermes asked with a cautious eye. He knew better than to trust your whims, especially when they involved 'spicing things up.

' You had a tendency to leave a trail of chaos and confusion in your wake, and your favorite pastime seemed to be playing pranks on the other gods, much to their dismay.

You flicked your tail, your entire figure dissolving into thin air. 'Just a little trick, my dear Hermes,' your voice echoed around them. 'Something to keep the Olympians on their toes.'

The next moment, Hermes was surrounded by a dozen indistinguishable figures. All of them had your cat ears and tail, and all of them wore your same sly, knowing grin. But which one was the real you? Hermes was momentarily paralyzed by the sheer absurdity of the situation.

But then, he heard a familiar rasping laugh. You were already behind him, your hand resting on his shoulder. “You know, dear Hermes,” you murmured, your voice close to his ear, “sometimes it’s more fun to watch the world burn than to join the fire.”

Hermes chuckled, despite himself. It was a ridiculous, chaotic scene, but it was also undeniably entertaining, and, he admitted, kind of exhilarating. He looked at the dozen identical creatures surrounding him, his eyes narrowing. “You know,” he said, his voice filled with playful exasperation, “you’re a terrible influence, you know that?”

You winked, your form shimmering in and out of existence, before disappearing entirely, leaving only a lingering echo of your laughter in the air.

“Oh, Hermes,” you said, your voice a distant whisper, “you have no idea.”

And then, you were gone again, leaving Hermes standing alone in the marketplace, wondering what mischief you were up to next. And he knew, with a certainty that made his stomach flutter, that your next prank would be even more outrageous, even more outlandish, than the last.

Because that was you, the Cheshire Cat. The embodiment of chaos, of inconsistency, and utter, glorious, absurdity. And Hermes, for all his love of order, couldn't help but love it.

[honeykaes]

—𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐢

✦ lingerie hc’s feat. alhaitham, ayato, childe, kaeya 

✦ warning: smut, 18+ content, mdni

✦ disclaimer: afab!reader with no set pronouns,pretty used as a descriptor, words “cunt” “pussy” “panties” used, consuenual voyuerism (ayato), mutual masturbation (ayato), masturbation (kaeya), panty fucking (kaeya), exhibitionism (childe), semi-public sex, thigh-fucking (childe), office sex (alhaitham), unedited

✦ reblogs and comments very appreciated

One of Alhaitham’s favorite pastime seemed to be messing with you in your office. It didn’t matter with what, that stoic face would always make you cum—on your chair, on the desk, even on the door one time. So, when Alhaitham walked in expecting you to be working, he was surprised to see you on the leather love seat dressed in your favorite lingerie. 

A smirk fell onto his sun-kissed skin as he locked the door and approached you, soon unblocking his own pants and disrobing. His cock, thick and hot, resting on your upper thigh and his hands soon ran up and down your thighs—soon spreading you out wide. 

“You’re already soaked. It’s not as fun if I’m not the one making you this wet,” he grunted, pressing his thumb firmly on your clit. You sucked a breath in as he pulled on the clothed nub, feeling his fingers dampen from your slick. You feel the pads of his fingers press against your folds before you gasp hearing a tear echo out into the room. As the ripping sound slowly pours out, a smirk is rested on Alhaitham’s smirk merely gazing at your embarrassed expression and furrowed brows. 

As he finally rips an opening, he pumped his cock a couple of times—smearing his precum along his base as he lined himself up and slowly descended inside of you. His nails dug into your thighs, stretching you out further until he finally bottomed out—cock deep inside of you. His head hovered over yours, lips whispers away from one another watching you squirm, trying to adjust and get him to thrust further inside of you.

His lips dipped down, nibbling on a sensitive part of your neck before finally thrusting, ripping a loud moan from your lips. His pace was rhymetic, cock grazing against the soft spongy part inside of you as you held onto him tighter. Your legs soon wrapped around his hips in a desperate attempt to get him even deeper, babbling how cruel he was for ruining your lingerie to get a reaction out of you.

Alhaitham merely chuckled, admiring the hickies now on your neck before leaning into your ear.

“Don’t worry, I can always buy you another set, I like that is…”

Ayato absolutely adores shopping with lingerie with you, it’s always on his list whenever the two of you go out shopping in Inazuma City and Ritou. He always walks around the store admiring the lacy, flimsy material decorated around before grabbing something that makes his cock twitch at the thought of you wearing it. Even if you don’t find anything in there, Ayato is sure to surprise you when you get home with the items he specifically picked out for you.

Even as you open his gift, lifting up the lacy thing from it’s ornate bag, he could feel his lips stretching to a smirk—half-hardened cock pressing against his white slacks. He could only bite his lips to try to hide the deep groan threatening to reverberate from his throat seeing your trembling expression as his hand cups his bulge. 

“Come on. Don’t you want to dress up for me,” he cooed—leaning towards your ear—as his hands fell onto your hips, pitching the skin near the bone. As you nodded your head, grabbing the lingerie to get up to the bathroom, Ayato merely caught your wrist—clicking his tongue in fake disappointment.

“Not so fast, lovely. Strip for me. Don’t I deserve a show for spoiling you,” he chuckled. He loved seeing your throat bob, anxiety riddling throughout your body as you soon unbuttoned your pants, pulling them down the legs he finds so enticing and onto the floor. His lips nibble the soft flesh of his bottom lip as you soon lifted your top off, dropping that down as well leaving your vulnerable in your udnerwear. As you remove the final article of clothing, his hip bucks towards his palm—admiring the translucent strings of your slick, shining from the light and sticking to your folds and upper thighs.

As you finally slipped on the lingerie he had bought you, Ayato shimmied his pants down, pale cock slapping against his toned lower stomach. He squeezed the base of it, slowly tugging it up as he watched you nervously stan their finally adorned in the lacy he’s thought about all day.

“Let me see you play with yourself. I want to see you absolutely soaked…” he groaned, leaning his back against the bedframe. Your fingers soon dipped down inside of your pants, fingers gathering up the slick from your folds rubbing tender circles on your throbbing clit. Ayato held his cock tighter, jerking it rapidly as his thumb pressed on the flushed tip of his cock—pad of his thumb soaked with his precum leaking down.

“F-Fuck, that’s right. Just like that, act like those are my fingers playing with your pretty cunt,” he grunted, soon cletching his jaw. His whole body flexed, as ropes of cum shot out, spaining your stomach and some of the fabric with the thick substance as he soon tried to ease his breathing from his high. 

As you stopped, embarrassed by his hazy lavender gaze, he soon found himself ontop of you—half-hardened cock nudging against your clothed entrance.

“Who said you could stop, hm?”

Childe was completely bored, watching you look at one pair to the other in the lingerie store. As he watched the people shopping and chatting, he fought another groan—wondering just where you were exactly. As his patience finally ran out, Childe got up and began to try to search for you within the store. As he saaw the changing rooms, unguarded, he snuck in loudly whispering your name.

Hearing your reply, Childe soon darted into the smal changing room. His dull blue eyes widened, mouth slightly gapped when he saw you adorned with lingerie fitting your figure perfectly. As you questions what he was doing and if everything was alright, Childe put his finger to his lips to try to hush you—feeling his cock beginning to grow. He shifted his pants, cock desperate for any type of friction before his hands soon found themselves to your hips. You looked in the mirror watching his lustful gaze on you.

“Care to make a wonderful memory in here,” he whispered, leaning into your ear before blowing hot air into it. Your body shivered as your thighs rubbed together, feeling the slow burn of your own arousal beginning to pool. Childe soon, undid his belt—the sound of his zipper echoing out before he pulled down part of his pants to reveal his cock. As you try shifting your body and leaning down, he only rought you right back to your position.

You gazed in the mirror confused as a mischievous look fell on the ginger’s expression. Feeling his hard cock pressed against your thigh, you gasped feeling his cock push between your thighs also rubbing along your clothed folds. He continuously thrusted, hands moving towards your chest where he soon found your pebbled nipples and began to tug and pull at them.

His balls smacked against the fat of your ass, as you covered your mouth to hide the moans from escaping out. From how tight you were holding your thighs, everytime he thrusted between them—he managed to hit pressure on yout clothed clit.

“Shhh… you don’t want to get caught do you,” he cooed, grinning at your expression in the mirror. Something about watching his cock disappear and appear as he fucked your thighs, made his stomach churn in delight.

As he groaned in your ear, nipping your earlobe as he went faster—you could feel his precum smearing against the soft skin. His hands eventually weaved back down to your hips, burying his fingernails into it as he finally came—ropes of his cum soiling the lingiere you were trying on and shooting globs of it onto the mirror. 

As you sighed, cheeks hot in embarrassment explaining how you were going to be forced to buy this pair now, Childe simply grinned, ripping the tag off of it and dashing out. Oh he would be buying it alright.

As Kaeya slowly opened his eyes, the morning light pouring in from the window, he couldn’t help sighing in content with you in his arms. His lips slowly leaned into your cheeks, gently kissing you and moving his adornation throughout your neck. Feeling you shift in his grasp, and muttering a good morning to him—he couldn’t help but smirk, telling you to head to the shower as he will make breakfast to try to recover from the festivities you two participated last night.

With a chuckle, you soon got up—blankets shifting down to reveal your nude form before Kaeya leaned over, pressing his hand hard on the globe of your ass as you playfully rolled your eyes and exited the bedroom. Hearing the shower turn on in the room over, Kaeya soon sighed once more before getting up himself. 

His eyes wandered the floor for his briefs or something that could cover him from the cold right now, but he zeroed into something else. Leaning down to the floor, his hand grabbed onto your lacy panties you wore last night—the very pair that managed to seduce him. He grunted seeing his cock beginning to rise and quiver, clearly already nostalgic from being inside of you. Shifting his head towards the closed bathroom door, Kaeya silently closed the bedroom door, grabbing the lingerie and pressing against his cock.

He sucked a breath in, leaning his head back against the door as he tighten his grip on his length and the lingerie pressed against it, his precum soon making the lace shine. A low moan escaped his lips, fingers pressing against prominent vein on the underside of his cock, going faster as pleasure enveloped his whole body. 

His eyes shut tight, reliving the memory of you bent over, your lingerie swiped to the side as he pounded inside of you—feeling your gummy walls squeeze and massage his cock. 

“Fuck…I want to cum inside of you baby,” he whispered out. His lips curled into a grin, hips meeting his pace before shuttering as his climax finally reached him. Thick globes of his cum coated your lingiere, as he softly pumped his cock walking himself down from his high.

With a sigh, Kaeya looked back down to the mess he had made with your panties, before clicking his tongue before throwing it into the hamper and hiding it with his other dirty clothes. He quickly grabbed a robe and left the bedroom to start breakfast.

Hopefully, you’d have no clue what happened to those pair for now.

[venuslut]

tw: violence

I've just been obsessed with the whole strong evil man with an equally, maybe more, evil woman by his side.

Just think about it. Them sitting on a throne and you're sitting at his feet with your head in his lap, and he's running his hands through your hair as he kills off the useless or traitorous people to give you a show.

I would be on an absolute power trip in this position. My favorite pastime? Planning world domination with my man. My hobbies? Bathing in the blood of my enemies. What's my ideal date? Going on a shopping-turned-murder spree and then fucking while covered in blood.

Some may not be ok with participating in the killings and all that and that's ok. But imagine the pure sexiness your man emits when he kills someone. He's covered in blood but goddamn. Just being turned on by him being covered in his victims blood and just smirking so evilly as if he's getting off on it too.

Maybe it's after a major fight and you're both high off of adrenaline. You saw your lover cut down people with little effort and you can't help but shiver at the thought of him bringing his brutality into the bedroom. Him manhandling you like a ragdoll and treating you like a common whore. It sends tingles to your core and makes your enemies afraid of why you seem more energetic and bloodthirsty than before.

Then when you get home, you both can't keep your hands to yourself. Wanting desperately to take each other's clothes off and fuck until your both stupid and drooling. You don't even care about the blood staining your designer clothes or your silk bed sheets. You wanted the blood on you as well, you wanted to taste it as you passionately kissed him, to feel it on your skin as he thrusted his cock into you. As he bit you in different places, drawing your own blood while you clawed at his skin in pleasure, both clouded with overwhelming lust for each other.

Aside from the sex, he would treat you like the queen you are. If they insult you, they're insulting him. Of course, he wouldn't need to put the person back in their place as you were capable of doing so yourself. He would only need to stand on the sidelines and smile proudly while their screams of mercy echo out. He would be so in love with you and shower you with gifts 2417, ranging from new clothes and jewelry to expensive things.

I rave about you fighting alongside him and all that but in hindsight, he wouldn't let you lift a finger. Having you by his side was already a grueling task so he didn't want to run you off by overexerting yourself. Your room would be filled with the softest and lavish bed, and while gone, he would allow you to sit on his throne. You're not always by his feet, sometimes when you find the position to be demeaning you sit on his lap or arm-piece instead. After all, you wanted to get a good view of the impending blood bath or look just as menacing as your lover.

Sometimes, you don't want to be the bimbo or the nice and main girl y/n. Sometimes you want to be evil, cruel, and bloodthirsty. You want to ditch your morals and watch the world burn, and you want to do it with your lover by your side.

Or maybe that's just me.