#it was the perfect mug shape too

[romanceyourdemons]

local asian market reorganized its shelves. consequently when i went looking for my ve wong vegetarian flavor instant noodles i unexpectedly found myself in the Good Quality Cookware And Beautiful Dishes aisle, aka the aisle of temptation, face to face with a mug (my favorite dish) with a lid (my favorite thing for a mug to have) and a heron pattern (my second-favorite bird) at a very reasonable price (i’m on a budget and i literally do not have room for another mug on my mug shelf). it was like one of those fucked up tests they give monks in shaolin movies to see if they’ve really given up earthly desires. that mug is going to haunt the broken man that i am for a long time

[oreo-creampies]

'𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠'

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 • Ever the light sleeper Toji quickly wakes up to you slipping the covers off him. His ire turns to interest when you divulge your lewd intentions of sucking his cock.

𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐭𝐡 • 2.6k

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 • pwp, cock drunk!reader, pussydrunk!toji, oral (giving), praise, sucking toji's balls, daddy, mama/good girl/princess, thigh riding, some begging, dacryphilia, no prep, light pain kink, heavy size kink - toji is a beefy man with a big daddy cock, some choking, creampie, hints of mind break, squirting, some mirror sex, toji is so soft for you and is fucking you like he hates you

Quietly setting down Toji's bitter, black coffee on your side table. You climb into bed, carefully slipping your comforter, revealing Toji’s chiseled, fat pecs, and his deeply contoured abs.

Toji grabs your blanket, grumbling, shifting from his side onto his back. You freezing, waiting for Toji to settle and his grasp to loosen. Seconds trickle by of you freely admiring him.

His thin, dark eyebrows furrowed above narrow, almond-shaped eyes. Which are lightly lined by his ever-present dark circles. Dark, bold hickeys trail between Toji's sharply defined clenching jaw and prominent collarbones. There are more scattered on his pecs.

Loosening his grip, slipping his hand beneath his pillow. Sleep roughens Toji’s deep and otherwise smooth voice. “Whatcha ya want?” Opening his eyes, a beautiful shade of emerald green. Toji's lips scar deepens with his sleepy, cocky half-smirk.

Desperately mewling, “Need you Daddy.” Gliding your fingertips down his hard abdomen. “I’m soaking through my panties, been thinking of your cock since I woke up. Couldn’t keep my hands to myself much longer.” Gathering your comforter to the side by the wall and window.

Toji pushes himself up, stuffing more pillows behind himself. You settle between Toji's muscular thighs, whilst he reaches for his coffee. "How badly does my future baby mama need me? " You push aside the curtains of your bedside window. Showing the forest composing your backyard.

Casting golden light across the bed. Gliding your fingers along the deep middle line of Toji's abdomen. Tracing down towards his v-line, whilst he sips on his coffee. Grasping Toji's heavy cock, too thick for your fingers to wrap around.

You croon, "You've been pressing your naked body against me all night. Been driving me crazy Daddy. Need you so badly I can't think of doing anything else but being your cum-filled cock-sleeve." Holding him upright, kissing the ridged line of Toji's cockhead whilst fondling his balls.

Gliding his fat head into your mouth, swirling your tongue. Toji falters, groaning, "That's it princess. You're hot, wet mouth 's so good. Fuckin' take Daddy deeper, know ya can." Bobbing your head, taking most of Toji’s heavy, fat cock. One of his thick veins glides along your flattened tongue.

Relaxing your mouth, deep-throating most of Toji. Swirling your hand around the rest you can't fit. Groaning his hips buck from the vibrations. You gently massage your fingers into his warm, squishy balls.

There's a clink of the mug hitting the side table. Looking up at Toji's handsome face. A crease forms between his thin furrowing brows. His lips form the perfect o. Your pussy throbs from Toji's raw groans, and breathy, deep moans.

"Ngh fuck princess! Deep throat Daddy's cock. Good girl, you're so fucking sexy." Hungrily watching you with emerald eyes.

Jerking his hip, trying to follow your lips as you slide him out with a pop. Gliding, twisting your fist along Toji's veiny, thick cock. Swiping your thumb over his head, smearing his pre-cum.

You croon, "You're leaking so much Daddy, your balls must be full of so much cum." Letting go of Toji's balls, wrapping your lips around him. Swirling your tongue around his fat, warm sack. Pumping your fist faster, as Toji digs his heels into your bed.

Groaning with a mouthful of Toji's balls. "Gonna give you every drop princess. After I finish my coffee I'm going to stuff your beautiful soaking wet, little cunt." You let go of Toji's balls, kissing them.

Protesting, "You haven't even taken more than a few sips." Holding Toji's heavy cock upright, spitting on his cock. Slipping your head between your thighs. Gliding your fingertips through your wet lips. Gathering your slick which you smear on your clit with each stroke.

Toji rests his large, heavy hand on top of your head, rhetorically wondering, "How can I? I'm too busy enjoying your hot, wet, pretty mouth on my cock and balls." You're suckling his cockhead, the salty taste of Toji's pre-cum coating your tongue.

Gliding him deeper into your mouth. Gagging, your throat squeezes his cock. Thrusting his hips up, pushing your head down. Forcing the last two, fat inches of his cock into your mouth.

Rubbing your clit faster, choking on Toji's cock getting you off. Tears blur the sight of Toji's pleasure-drunk expression. Earning a deep, raspy moan from Toji,

"Wanna see those pretty tears, cry for me, princess. Cry 'cause Daddy's cock is too big for your little mouth." Holding your head still with both large hands. Toji splays his fingers out, reaching your temple and your jaw.

Planting his feet on the bed, fervently thrusting his hard cock into the wet, warmth of your mouth. Spit drips down your chin. Trembling from the pleasure of rubbing your clit.

Toji groans, "That's it mama." Whilst fat tears trickle down your face, dripping onto him. Pulling you off his cock, grasping his length, pumping it with his large fist. Your breathing is heavy, as quick as you try to steady before divulging,

"Need you to fuck me till I squirt! I wanna cum so hard on your cock. Daddy you always make my pussy feel so good, it's so much better when you make me cum with your cock." Toji lightly taps his cock on your lips.

"S' that right princess? Do you need to cum on Daddy's cock?" You lightly press one finger after another into his squishy balls. Repeating the process at a steady, smooth pace.

You eagerly plead with Toji, "Wanna be full of Daddy's cock and cum. Please let me cum on your fat, veiny cock." Toji grabs his coffee as you glide his cock deep into your throat. Groaning before he could take a sip.

Pulling you off his cock, insisting, "If you want more of my cock then you're gonna have't be a good girl for me and ride my thigh. Put on a beautiful show n' let me see how stunning you are cumming while I drink my coffee." You slip his cock out, which falls onto his balls with a soft plop.

Leaning forward, kissing his cheek. Splaying your fingers on his chest, groping his fat pecs. You straddle his thigh, whilst reassuring him with,

"I'll be good and clean up my mess afterward." Toji grabs your hip, encouraging you to grind your clit on his brawny thigh, smearing your slick on his thigh. You're mewling and moaning with every shift of your hips.

Toji groping your cheek, letting you set your own zealous pace whilst keeping you steady. "You going to lick my cock clean after I make you squirt mama?" Holding onto Toji's muscular bicep digging in your nails.

Sliding your other hand down his abdomen, towards his cock slipping your hand underneath, cupping his balls. "Cock and balls, won't miss a single spot Daddy." Lightly fondling them in your palm.

Toji kisses your forehead. "That's my good girl." Rocking your hips faster, desperate for that tingling high of cum. Leaning forward putting more pressure on your sensitive clit.

He glides his large hand up from your ass, over your hip. "You're hot grinding your super soaker pussy on my thigh. Can't wait to have your soft little cunt gripping my cock, making such a mess." Caressing up your side to your breasts. Swiping his thumb over your nipple.

There is a pleasurable from the roughness of his finger. Calloused from years of fighting, and labor on your soft nipple pushing you closer towards cumming. "I want your cock right after this, I don't care if it's too much. I need to feel you fucking my cervix. Nnng Daddy fill my soaking cunt with more cock than I can handle." Toji's cock is drooling pre-cum onto your hand.

Grasping his head, swirling your thumb over his wet head, smearing his pre-cum around. Whilst Toji takes a huge gulp of his coffee. Lightly wrapping his thick fingers around your neck.

You mewl one last plea, "I'll be a good girl and take it all! I'm so close please fuck me Daddy!" Pushing the last bit of air out of your lust. Whilst he gradually applies pressure to your neck.

Toji flexes his thigh, the muscles hardening underneath your clit. Any cries you wouldn't he stifles, leaving you soundless with your mouth hanging open. Your eyes roll back as intense ecstasy overwhelms you as you cum.

Roughly setting his mug down, Toji snaps, "Fuck the rest of my coffee. Have't fuck your beautiful ass now." He pushes you off his thighs. Pinning you to the bed as you thoughtlessly, instantly spread your legs for him.

Rutting his hips, rubbing your clit with his fat, warm cockhead. "Good girl, spreading your legs so quickly for me." Lining himself up, "Gonna make you my baby mama." Loosening his grasp as he thrusts his cock past your puffy lips.

Clenching down on him, your pussy barely spreading to let him in. "I fucking love it when she's too tight to let me in, all sensitive and sloppy from cumming." Grabbing your thighs, pressing your folded legs to the mattress in a firm mating press. Toji leans his weight onto you, gliding himself deeper with a harsh push.

Mewling, "Too big, don't stop." Holding onto Toji, scratching his back, pulling his hair.

He grunts, "Your squishy, beautiful little pussy just barely fits me. Want me to fuck her loose with my fat cock till you're dripping my cum?" You can acutely feel every puffy vein, along with the ridged bump of his cockhead. Gliding along your g-spot, the heaviness of his cock gives just the right amount of pressure.

It's too erotic, his raspy, deep groans, your squelching cunt, and the slapping of skin. The weight of his heavy balls hitting your cheeks. Whilst his navel swipes your clit with every thrust.

Squeezing his fat cock with your soaking wet cunt. Toji trembles, his cocky smirk dropping into an o. "Oooohhh fuck! Fuck! Princess your beautiful little cunt is too much." Leaning back, swiping your clit with his thumb. Coaxing you towards cumming towards quickly cumming again. Tingling pleasure spreads from your clit, seeping throughout your body overwhelming you.

Babbling, mewling, "Wanna cum! Wanna cum! Needa cum! Daddy! Don't stop!" Toji keeps his rough, quick pace, steady. "Right there!" You're pussy throbs around him. Bursts of intense ecstasy from his cock head rutting against your squishy cervix building a heavy wet pressure.

"You're getting so close she's quivering around me. Cum on your Daddy's cock like a good girl." Those words have you gushing. "Nng love how I can make your pussy cum so quickly." Stroking your clit, fucking you through your high. As you mewl,

“I love you too Daddy!” Quickly Toji pulls out, his muscular frame trembling. Half smirking at you, his green eyes lush with adoration. Whilst he breaths,

“Shit princess! You can't make me cum just yet. Don’t want to stop fucking your hot, squelching little cunt. I fucking love ya so much princess, gonna make me cum saying that shit to me.” Flipping you over, pulling your hips up, and spreading your legs.

Lining himself up, tightly grasping your throat, pulling you back to meet his harsh thrust. “What did you do to me mama? Got me going all soft for you and your little pretty super soaker.” Slapping both your cheeks, jerking away from every heavy, stinging slap.

His hand around your throat keeps you from running away. "You're gonna be a good girl for me and take it." Wrapping his arm around your waist. "Can't run away from me if I hold your ass in the air and fuck my cock into your sweet little cunt." With ease Toji slips off the bed, holding your body to his, his cock buried deep in your cunt.

Holding you in front of your vanity mirror. "You're going to watch how good your little pretty cock sleeve takes my cock." Your pussy flutters at the blurry sight of your smaller body pinned to Toji's brawny sculpted muscular one.

Air trickles into your lungs as Toji lets go of your neck. He grabs you're the back of your thighs, spreading your legs apart. Your pussy flutters from seeing Toji suspending you in a mating press.

There is a thick ring of your juices gathering at the base of Toji's cock. Your face is wet with tears, whilst the inside of your thighs is slick. Matching Toji's glimmering wet cock and balls.

Admiring Toji fervently fucking his cock into your soaking wet cunt. You're beautiful, trembling in his grasp. Wearing a love-drunk, adoring expression akin to his.

"We look so good together don't we princess? Look at what a beautiful mess you are, drunk on my cock." Quickly you wind your arms around him, slipping a hand into his hair. Holding onto him, as Toji's pace gradually picks up momentum.

Fucking his cockhead into your plushy cervix. As if trying to push past into your guts. Toji is so achingly handsome. Pulling himself out till his head is making your lips puffy with his head. Too fat to slip out easily.

Rocking himself deep into your cunt with a loud squelch. It's mouthwatering watching Toji's veiny, pale cock gliding past your lips. The sight of him is nothing compared to how he feels inside of you.

Heavy, thick, soft, hard you could tell the placement of every thick vein whilst he balls deep inside. The part you can't help but obsess over the most is the soft texture of Toji's cock rubbing your sensitive pussy contrasts with how rock-hard he is when you clamp down.

You mewl, "Harder daddy! Fuck me harder!" Prompting him to pin you to the bed. Grasping your ass, which hangs off the bed. Keeping you in a mating press, trapping your legs with his weight as he leans over you.

Toji plants his feet harshly rutting himself into you. Grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, kissing you roughly. Parting your lips, he slips his tongue past, tasting of bitter coffee.

Groaning into Toji's mouth. Getting off on how primal it is to be pinned, spread, and fucked into, unable to wiggle away. He breaks the kiss, drunken confessing,

"Mmnn princess, I fucking love you so damn much. So beautiful, sweet, soft, and wet, I love you so fucking damn much. That's it princess I got ya, gonna spoil you, give you everything you want." Your bed protests, creaking, threatening to break.

You're drunk on Toji, he's everywhere saturating your senses. "Too much!" Breathing in Toji's musky scent of lingering the Sauvage cologne you bought him with his money.

All you could feel is Toji's warm, muscular body pressing against yours. His large hands are on your hips, sinking into the soft crease of your hip.

His cock is too hard, fucking your plush cervix, pain underlines the pleasure. Clawing at the sheets trying to help you psychically comprehend the intensity of Toji. He lets go of your hips, his weight keeping you from running away from his harsh, quick thrusts.

Grabbing your wrists, pinning them above your head. Propping his foot up on the edge of the bed gives Toji a better angle to thrust deeper inside you. His cockhead bruises your cervix with every harsh, quick, bed-rocking thrust.

Toji is fucking you like he hates you and simultaneously groaning sweet nothings. "Princess you're doing so good taking my cock. Relax mama, Daddy 's gonna take care of you. You can take my cock like a good girl." You're squirting on him, thick slick trickling down your thighs. Coating Toji's throbbing cock and drenching his heavy balls.

One of his veins pulses seconds before warm creamy cum trickles inside you. Fucking you through his peak, smearing his cum. "Goddamn mama that was a lot for me good girl." Kissing the top of your head, wrapping your arms around him.

Toji insists "Lemme hold ya whilst I go soft, then eat some breakfast.” Toji grabs your hips lifting you off your bed. Climbing onto the bed settling by the window with his cock buried in you.

formerly oreo-creampie

[affableramen]

How they sleep with you (sfw)

 ━─━────༺༻────━─━

Wriothesley

he always comes to the bed after you and tries to move carefully in order to not wake you if you have already fallen asleep

he is a big spoon so he hugs you from behind really nice and comfy

usually very tired of late shifts at work so probably will be dead asleep the next few seconds. You’d pull the blanket over him ensuring he doesn't catch a cold. Oh, he loves when you take care of him :(

he gives out the best hugs and is actually very warm, like a big old wolf can be your personal blanket. Even though you would still wrap the both of you into the fuzzy blanket knowing that this silly man probably doesn't realise that the nights are getting longer and freezing

loves nuzzling into your hair, coz your scent makes him relaxed and he’ll likely have a good night sleep after a sniff of his significant other

Tartaglia

he is actually very sweet and gentle in the bed with you, especially before sleep when the both of you likely end up tired after work

removes his accessories, rings, gloves only to gently wrap his bare hands around you. tartaglia is a big spoon as well. he does not fail to amaze you with how smooth his hands feel against your arm compared to his finesse in a battlefield

loves warm temperature so makes sure both of you are wrapped in huge fuzzy blankets

loves a good mug of hot chocolate or honey herbal tea before sleep and will make you one too!

although loves being a boss aka big spoon, will die for you to lie on his chest <3

Neuvillette

being a small spoon he loves when you wrap your arms around his broad chest, he finds it very comfy and in a way, soothing

Neuvillette is extremely shy and solitary so he won’t usually ask you for something but sharing a nice cup of warm water before sleep with you is his guilty pleasure. There is just something super endearing about sharing his favourite drink intimately with you, under the moonlight and rain…

he takes big pleasure in being undressed by you, he just wants to feel you remove these formal indigo layers from his shoulders. will also let you personally remove his feather hair pin and unclip other accessories from his lavish outfit

even though his eyes look cold sometimes he ensures his significant other doesn't doubt his affection which is showing quite well in how he holds you in sleep

holds your hand in the sleep so tight as if afraid you will disappear the next day. Neuvillette enjoys your company more than he is going to admit. Hard on the outside - sweet inside, he almost innocently kisses your forehead and cheek before sleep so that you almost forget how stiff and rough this man is in court

Pantalone

sleep? doesn’t know him. This man has huge eyebags coz apparently he sleeps in the office… 

his face looks completely different without glasses and you cannot help but be in awe every night, seeing the perfect shape of his eyes clearly and slight hints of exhaustion after the whole CEO work

after having you help him inject insulin, he lets you take his gloves off, and even though he’s been sharing domestic pleasures with you for a while, still wary of showing his bare hands to you every time, coz he has an eczema he finds disgusting. will hum quietly while you spread a gentle cream over his hands as a skincare routine procedure before sleep

he is attached to you more than he initially planned to and it is showing in the way his hands “accidentally” graze yours or his eyes examine your sleepy face before he drifts off too. You’re left mesmerised at how this man, a heartless businessman, treats you so softly and dearly

is actually capable of comforting someone, so will do a great deal of comforting you if something about your mood seems off. He is not very sensitive to emotions but he understands you logically, judging by your body language, routine or the way you talk. Trust me, this man is the gentlest when it comes to your vulnerability, he will ensure 💯 that you feel safe and happy enough, so he will hug you SO tight in the sleep, in order to just soothe you 

Alhaitham

cannot let you fall asleep without night cuddles when he with his muscular chest loves pressing you into the sheets

even though he is grumpy about it, allows you dismantle his clothes. There is something endearing about touching his biceps and chest while you undress him 

Alhaitham loves when you sniff his hair and bury your face into it. He might possibly lay closer to you so that your nose bumps in his head or throat 

turns his relaxing lo-fi kind of music on so that you can enjoy it too and tune into sleep with him

he sleeps very quietly and peacefully but can wake up to a single noise. Be sure to hold him close and not wake him <3

Capitano

loves caressing your soft tummy when you’re in the bed with him

when it’s a cold night and even heating doesn't seem to help, you pull his toned body on top of yours so that he provides additional warmth and comfort. Capitano loves laying on top of you, but concerned he’ll be too heavy for you

he won't let you fall asleep without a night kiss, he’s so addicted to your lips that he just won't allow you go to bed without bringing that sweetest gentlest smooch to your lips

he goes to bed quite early which is understandable for a gentleman coded guy like him. If you are not sleepy and plan to play in your phone he won't have objections to it however. He will pull his blanket up his body and let you enjoy your stuff while he is attempting to sleep 

He is a tea drinker, so herbal tea before sleep is must have for him. One of his personal favourites is - camomile tea

Dottore

he is actually the sweetest when it comes to before sleep procedures. He loves doing domestic stuff with you a whole lot

night time is probably the only way for you to see his face coz he removes his mask. He’s afraid he might hurt you since you sleep wrapping your body around him while he buries his face into your neck from behind

he is very sensitive to your emotions so if you seem upset for the evening he will make jokes (even if unfunny or cringey) to ensure your mood is changed. He can't bare to see you frustrated and wants you to be as comfortable as possible, since you have already given him enough - like trust, patience and affection 

brushing or playing with your hair is his addiction before sleep. He is not exactly the tidiest person around but he loves touching your hair and he even says that you inspired him to take more care of his own

lots of talk talk meaningless talk about his theories before sleep because he loves sharing his personal opinions and ideas with you. He trusts you this much

Dainsleif

cold on the outside, becomes softer the longer you know him, this man being a tsundere king isn't very touchy with you, however during sleep he subconsciously tries to reach your hand, to feel your warmth

you love listening to his stories about his adventures and travels, his experience is sure long and enticing enough for you

is also a tea drinker before sleep. Just imagine pyjamas wearing Dainsleif in slippers as he waits for his tea to be ready

you love ruffling his blonde hair as the both of you lie down. Though he groans in dissatisfaction, subconsciously he loves it too but never admits it

this man loves sleeping only in his boxers so you are for sure going to feel the warmth of his body and smell his natural scent as he is pressed close to the sleepy you

Baizhu

he makes sure he folded every one of his working papers and sorted all medicine bags as he gets into the sheets with you

he is prone to feeling chronically cold, so he will pull you close to get some of your warmth for himself (that’s a bit yandere of him don’t you think)

Baizhu is very tidy and neat so one of your favourite things is touching his silky hair and his clean fingers as the both of you slowly drift away to sleep

he shares one trait with Pantalone - staring at his beloved one’s face until he completely falls asleep limp. He is addicted to you and your face as if your whole presence is some sort of a drug

anxious of discovering an empty bed. he holds you so close as if a single thought of you slipping off his fingers terrifies him. Will be really irritated if you two do not wake up simultaneously 

[issues4him]

Can you do blue collar Rafe where reader begs him to take the kids to the beach since it’s such a nice weekend. He literally wants to eat her up because she’s wearing a cute bathing suit, and he’s just the best dad ever during the day. He’s playing with emmet in the water, and he’s helping wren make shapes in the sand. And once they are done emmet begs for ice cream and Rafe just can’t say no to him. Rafe just is super grateful for the life he is able to provide for his family. 💛

beach day with the cameron’s!

cw: suggestive, flirting

it was way too perfect of a day to be stuck inside. warm breeze, not a cloud in the sky, and your kids were already climbing all over the furniture by 9 a.m. you batted your lashes across the kitchen, where rafe stood drinking his coffee in worn-out boxers and a tee that clung to his back from the heat. “baby,” you sing-songed, arms wrapping around his waist. “let’s take the kids to the beach today. pleaaaase.”

he raised an eyebrow, cocky little smirk playing on his mouth, “you just wanna wear that new bikini you got, don’t you?”

you just smiled innocently, tugging at the hem of the very oversized shirt you’d thrown on—his old work tee, neck cut wide so it hung off your shoulder, swallowing your figure in the best way. rafe groaned under his breath, setting his mug down, “fine. but you’re gonna make it real hard to be normal today.”

the truck was loaded within the hour. emmett had already asked “are we there yet?” twice, wren was trying to open a juice box with her teeth, and hunter was mumbling nonsense while chewing on the strap of his car seat.

rafe glanced over at you as he pulled onto the road—sunglasses perched low on his nose, one arm draped over the wheel. you were in the passenger seat, bare legs crossed, his old t-shirt still draped over that damn bathing suit like you didn’t know exactly what you were doing. “you gonna behave today?” he muttered, eyes dipping to the sliver of skin at your shoulder.

you shrugged with a sweet little smile. “i don’t know… depends if you behave first.”

he just laughed—low and dangerous.

at the beach, the chaos began instantly. emmett dove head-first into the sand. wren was already collecting shells like she had a mission. and hunter refused to leave rafe’s hip, one arm slung around his neck, bangs sticking to his forehead. you started setting up the towels while rafe wrangled the cooler and the kids. and when you finally tugged off his shirt and stepped out in that tiny black bikini, hips swaying toward the water? rafe stopped mid-sentence. literally stopped. the umbrella dropped into the sand at his feet.

“my god,” he muttered under his breath, eyes glued to your figure as you walked toward the surf, that curve of your hips swaying like you knew what you were doing to him. hunter babbled something about the sand and sharks yet rafe barely noticed. “yeah, yeah, buddy. daddy’s fine. just pray for me.”

he was the best dad all day, despite being distracted as hell. he chased emmett through the waves, letting him jump off his back into the water. he helped wren dig for shells, making up fake names for each one. he carried hunter when his little legs got tired, juice box leaking down his arm. but every few minutes his eyes found you—laid out on a towel. bent over digging for sunscreen. laughing, smiling, glistening from the saltwater, wearing his last name on that little gold necklace he bought you. and rafe was just… gone.

by the time the sun started setting and the kids were winding down, emmett looked up with sand all over his face and grinned wide. “can we get ice cream, daddy? please?”

rafe groaned dramatically, wiping wren’s sticky fingers on a napkin. “you’re gonna eat dinner after, right?” three nodded their little heads. then his mischievous wife who batted her lashes like she wasn’t the reason he’d been hard all day. “…alright. let’s go.”

as you loaded the kids into the truck and clicked hunter into his seat, rafe caught your waist from behind, pulling you back into his chest for a second. “you keep wearin’ that shirt, that suit, that pretty smile—” his lips brushed your ear. “i’m not makin’ it through the night without gettin’ my hands on you.”

you smirked. “what happened to behaving?”

he just slapped a rough hand on your ass cheek, muttering “you started it.”

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Danny wasn't sure what to do. Was this legal? He knew the bats were part of the Justice League and whatnot but surely they can't just pick him up off the street after he got into a brawl with some creeps trying to mug him!

Sure, Nightwing had jumped down to help and Danny, still in his living form with its crappy human vision, thought he was another mugger because of the dark and attacked him too.

Now he's sitting in the back seat of the batmobile with his hands in wierd bat handcuffs.

Was everything these guys owned bat themed? Yeah his parents put there last name in all the titles of their inventions but they had a brand to sell so it was excusable. Batman however, is clearly living out his bat shaped dreams. Usually Danny was all for the furrys doing thier thing, one of his best friends was a proud furry and Danny 100% supported him, but there was a line you don't cross and tall dark and fuzzy crossed it when he kidnaped one 14 year old Danny Fenton.

He couldn't Go Ghost right in front of Batman and Nightwing but he could use the one thing his mom made him take with him everywhere since he was a little boy.

His panic button.

It was powered by ectoplasm and could get through signal jammer with no problem. If he pressed the button his parents would drop everything to come save him. They made sure to put little sirens and flashing lights in thier own hazmat suits to make sure they didn't accidentally miss it. Sure they looked hilarious the few times he had seen it go off in his life but it was highly effective.

So he pushed the button and his parents were charging torward them in record time, the GAV playing chicken with the freaking batmobile. Suddenly his mothers voice came from the panic button, "Are you in the front of back, sweetie?"

"I, uh." He stuttered, looking up at the shocked face of Nightwing before answering, "The back."

"Perfect." He mother said darkly.

A trio of high mechanical whines filled the air and Danny didn't need to look through the windshield to know the buzz saws were out.

----

Bruce just wanted to know why Danny Fenton, youngest of the Fenton Family and son of Jack Fenton and Madeline Walker, two people whose marriage brokered peace between thier prospective mafia syndicate families, was doing in Gotham beating up low level thugs.

He was not expecting overprotective mad scientist parents.

[reidphobic]

crashing into him tonight (he’s a paradox) - s. r.

in which your lessons continue, and you want to be more than spencer’s teacher. 4004 words. part two to the neighbor!au.

inexperienced!sub!spencer x dom!fem reader, jealousy, mommy kink, mutual masturbation, fingering, praise, very very mild degradation, brief cumplay? i guess? no use of y/n, reader is still super condescending but it’s still hot

It starts to become a routine for Spencer to knock on your door late at night, wearing a nervous smile and offering a quiet plea for another lesson. It’s not every night he’s home, but it’s enough that you start to notice his absence after a couple of days. You try not to read too far into it, remind yourself that the two of you just have fun, that Spencer is just your little plaything, and it doesn’t matter if he’s away somewhere using tricks you taught him on other women. And, besides, you’re hardly celibate yourself.

But after three nights of silence, you hear something so unfamiliar you almost don’t recognise it at first. A second voice in Spencer’s apartment — in his bedroom. You can’t quite make out any words, but you can tell exactly what’s happening, low murmurs giving way to soft moans, the shape of his name reaching your ear in a high, pitchy, voice. You scowl, huff. You know Spencer knows the walls are paper-thin. Has he even noticed that you haven’t brought anyone home when he’s there since you started sleeping together?

You lie awake, listening, until you can’t take the hurt any longer. You storm out of your apartment, drown the ugly feeling in the pit of your stomach in cheap, sour liquor. It’s not long before you’re leaving the bar again, head spinning, and back in your apartment with a willing body between your thighs. The guy — whose name you’ve already forgotten — is perfectly eager, all the right words, praises, moans as he touches you. His kiss is perfect on paper, just enough tongue and teeth and wandering hands, and you moan and stretch and purr when he fucks into you.

But it’s still all wrong. There’s too much of him; square shoulders and broad chest where you crave a slim, slight body. He praises where you want pleas, calls you baby instead of Mommy. The prospect of waking up to him in your bed makes your skin crawl, and you bundle the guy out of the door practically before he’s finished cumming. Sobered up and unpleasantly sticky, you stumble into the shower and try to scrub off the night’s sins. It doesn’t feel like it works.

Trying not to think about Spencer doesn’t work either. It doesn’t work as you toss and turn in bed, or when you’re getting ready for work, not even while your shift drags on and on and your mind is filled with a billion other things. You can half-feel the ghost of his presence, his favourite of your mugs undrank-from on the counter, one of his ties slung across a dining chair, a book he’d thought you might like resting on your coffee table.

It’s worse that he’s gone for so long — he’s been away on a case for ten days, and your lasting memory is the noise of him fucking someone else. The sound is still rattling dimly around your head as you stare aimlessly at the TV, your whole body sore after a long, late shift, when there’s a knock at your door. Unthinking, you open it, expecting your food delivery guy and instead coming face to face with Spencer.

You’re half-convinced you’ve fallen asleep, that he’s a cruel trick of your subconscious, and it must show on your face because Spencer’s face screws up in concern as he speaks. “Hi,” he murmurs. He’s disheveled in a way you’ve never seen him, bleary-eyed and shirt untucked, like he’s been sleeping in his clothes. “I, uh. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I came straight here, which sounds kind of stupid, ‘cause I live here, too, but, uh… I haven’t been inside my apartment yet.” You keep your face cool, impassive. “What… I guess what I’m trying to say is that I missed you.” Never mind that he fucked someone else the night before he left.

“Is that all?” you say, folding your arms across your chest. His face crumples, and you feel guilty all over again.

“Did I do something wrong? Did I hurt you?” he asks, innocent and forlorn, and, God, you just want to sink your teeth into him right then and there.

But if you bite too hard, he’ll bleed. “I don’t know, Spencer. Did you? Or did you have fun?” you snap. “Did you use what I taught you?” The words taste bitter as they spill free, but you can’t swallow them back down. Spencer’s mouth opens and closes, but he stays silent. “Or, what, she wasn’t happy with you? You after one last practice run before you give the real thing another shot?”

“I… What?” He pauses. “This is because I… slept with someone else?”

You roll your eyes. “Wow. That 187 IQ really works wonders for you, huh?” You move to shut the door in his face, but he blocks you deftly, steps past you into your apartment so quickly you barely realise what happened. Right. FBI agent.

Spencer crosses the room, sits down at your dining table, motions for you to do the same. Your feet carry you into the chair without your permission. “So, you’re angry with me for sleeping with another girl, despite never communicating or agreeing on any kind of exclusivity. After… this.” He gestures vaguely to the space between you. “All started because I don’t know what I’m doing and you wanted to teach me?”

You sigh, turn his words over in your head. When he puts it that way, you sound ridiculous. And his saying I don’t know what I’m doing isn’t lost on you either. “I don’t think I knew, honey. I thought, this is just fun, just friends helping friends. And then I heard you, and I got so… possessive, I guess. And I couldn’t talk to you, because you were gone, so I just got more and more bitter.”

Reaching a hand across the table, Spencer gives you a tentative glance before taking hold of yours, running his thumb soothingly across your knuckles. “So, that night, the guy you were with, that was…”

“Fucking awful,” you joke, but he just looks concerned, doesn’t pick up on it. “No, it was… retaliation. God, that’s so embarrassing. The sex was fine, but he wasn’t you, honey.” At that, he finally smiles, and you feel it warm you from the inside out.

“And that’s what you want?” He licks his lips, touches his hair. His particular brand of skittish nervousness looks so good on him that it’s almost unfair. “Me?”

The disbelieving look on his face, frankly, is criminal. “Spencer, sweetheart, I can’t think of anything I’ve ever wanted more.” Your chairs scrape against the floor as you scramble up, grab at him everywhere you can reach, crash your lips into his. It’s sweet, soft, and you fight to hold your hunger at bay, trace his lips with gentle affection.

You work your way through the room, bumping into every possible piece of furniture and giggling into Spencer’s open mouth until you land on the couch in his lap. “This is familiar,” he says, smirking a little. Grabbing his jaw, you scowl playfully, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

Experimentally, you roll your hips down, find him deliciously eager under you. “It’s so cute how hard you get just from making out, sweetheart. So needy, baby.” You lean down, kiss his neck, suck a bruise into his soft skin. “What’d you think about?”

“Huh?” he murmurs, eyes glossy and lips swollen, wearing a pretty, dazed face. He’s oh-so gorgeous when you’ve kissed all the thoughts out of his head, operating on pure impulse, uninhibited.

Your fingers creep up to loosen his tie. “You said I couldn’t stop thinking about you. What were you thinking about?” You pull his tie off, untuck his shirt, start working on his buttons. “Was it dirty? Details, honey, c’mon.”

Spencer smiles up at you, angelic. “Not all of it,” he says, tracing delicate little patterns across the small of your back. “Thought about kissing you. A lot. About you laying in my lap, and we’re supposed to be watching a movie, but I’m just looking at you.” Your chest clenches. “How you listen when I talk… I don’t— People think I can’t tell, if they just nod in the right places, but I know.”

“Spencer, honey,” you say softly, kissing and nipping gently at his chest as you unbutton his shirt, exposing inches of silken skin with each movement. “God, you’re perfect.” You sigh, resting your head in the crook of his neck. Spencer brings his hand up to pet your hair, blunt nails scratching soothingly over your scalp.

“But… I, uh. That’s not all I thought about.” He’s nervous, now, the embarrassment that always comes when he wants to voice his desires; you’ve been trying to train it out of him, but it’s achingly slow going.

You smile encouragingly, kissing at his chest and gazing up at him with your best fuck-me eyes. “S’alright, baby. Tell Mommy, okay?”

“Thought about you on top of me. Your pretty… How pretty you look up there.”

You grin wickedly. “My tits, is that what you mean to say? You love your Mommy’s tits, don’t you, honey?” Spencer nods, head falling forward to bury his face in your chest. You let him hide for a moment, collect himself, before you nudge him to speak again.

Spencer’s eyes are glossy, his mouth red and bruised. He looks so sweet, your pretty, pliant little toy, perfectly ready for you to sink your claws into. “Mhmm. Love your tits, Mommy. Thought about you touching me, n’when you’re all mean and you don’t touch me.” He pouts, just a little, and you can’t resist shifting your hips and dragging a thumb across his swollen bottom lip.

“You like it when I’m mean, sweetheart?” He nods, dazed. “You want me to be a little meaner?” Spencer freezes under you, suddenly seeming tense and afraid. Damn. And you’d just gotten him to relax. You stroke his face with the back of your hand to soothe him. “You can say no, honey, it’s okay, I won’t be mad. Just wanna find out what makes you feel good, alright, pretty?”

“No, I… I want it. But just a little. Please.”

“Yeah, honey, that’s alright. But you gotta tell me if it’s ever too much, okay?” Spencer nods, and you raise an eyebrow. “Words, baby.”

It seems to take him a minute to find the words, spit-slick lips parted as he stares at you with lust-blown eyes. “Yes, Mommy. I will. I’ll tell you.”

You grind your hips down in reward, let Spencer roll his up to meet you. Pressing your lips to his, you swallow his whimper. “Good boy,” you murmur, and he beams. “Love it when you get all dumb like this. S’good for you, honey, not to be the clever one all the time.” You pull off his shirt, slide off his lap to admire him from a distance. Before he can whine at the loss, you cut him off. “Did you touch yourself?” Spencer tilts his head. “Sweetheart, did you masturbate thinking about me?”

Spencer’s mouth drops in a soft ‘o’ of understanding, cheeks flushing ruby-woo red. “Yes,” he admits, avoiding your gaze until you force his eyes back to you.

“God, you really are just clueless, huh? C’mon, show Mommy, baby. Show me how you touch yourself.” Spencer blinks dumbly. God, he must be worse off than you thought. “Spencer, honey, I know you jerk off. I heard you every damn night. S’what made me decide I had to get you all to myself.”

At that, the corner of his lip quirks. If you didn’t know better, you’d say he was smirking at you. “Is that why you had a box of lingerie delivered to my apartment?” It’s your turn to be speechless. “Profiler,” he adds with a shrug.

“Alright, smartass. It worked, didn’t it?” you scoff. “And stop distracting me.” You set to work on what’s left of his clothes, unbuttoning his pants and palming his cock through his boxers. “Do you take off all your clothes first? Or do you keep ‘em on, make a mess of yourself?”

“No, I… I take them off,” he says. You raise an eyebrow as if to say go on. “Oh, y- you want me to..? Oh, o-okay.” With shaking hands, he slips out of his pants, then his boxers, stained with precum; the evidence of his desire has you practically drooling. His pretty dick springs free, thuds sickly against his stomach with a wet smack.

You can’t help the pulse of arousal that throbs through you at the sight of him. “Good boys don’t keep Mommy waiting, Spencer,” you chide, careful to avoid touching him. It’s clear how acutely he feels the lack of a pet name, the implication of your words, and he babbles out an apology.

Eagerly, you watch Spencer curl his hand around his cock, but he doesn’t move. “I’m sorry. It’s just… it’s hard— Don’t,” he interrupts himself when you smirk. “It’s difficult… with you watching me like this.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” you croon. “You like to think about my tits, right?” You pull off your shirt, flick it across the room. As if magnetised, Spencer’s eyes fall to your chest as you grab your tits, roll a nipple between two fingers. “There you go, honey. S’just you and your fantasy, okay? Now show me what you do when you think of me, okay?”

Spencer squeezes his eyes shut, takes a steadying breath. He’s endlessly fascinating; he’ll stare down killers without so much as flinching, but a willing girl with her boobs out is just too much for him. Slowly, he starts to pump his cock, spreading precum down his length. You watch him speed up until he’s jacking himself furiously, hand flying along his dick so hard and fast he must be giving himself friction burn. He bites down on his lower lip, whimpers through his teeth, the sound familiar and erotic. “Mommy,” he whines, high and breathy, hips jerking up into his hand. You can’t watch this much longer.

Placing a palm on his thigh to still him, you slowly cover his hand with your free one. “Honey, is that how you get yourself off?” Brow scrunched in confusion, he nods. God, the poor boy is hopeless. “And that feels good?”

“It makes me orgasm quickly,” Spencer answers, as if that’s remotely the same thing. “I- I have trouble sleeping, and an orgasm releases endorphins that relax both the mind and the body. It helps,” he says placidly.

You nod slowly. “And when you make yourself come like that, does that feel the same as when I make you come?” He shakes his head. “It doesn’t, right? It feels better when I do it?”

“So much,” he breathes. “You’re so much better.”

You smile indulgently down at him. “Oh, honey. That’s because you’re doing it all wrong,” you say, syrupy and condescending. “When you get off, it makes you feel better, right? Yeah. And you’re so focused on that, you forget to make yourself feel good. That genius mind of yours’d be blown finding out how long I could spend getting myself off.” You pat his cheek. “Maybe I’ll show you someday.

A punched-out whimper slips from his lips, the sound falling straight between your legs. “What am I doing wrong?” Spencer asks, low and feeble.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Mommy’s gonna show you, okay?” He nods eagerly. Sure, you’ve jerked him off before, but this feels different. You’re not just giving him pleasure, you’re showing him how to take it for himself. “Show me again, but slow, okay?” Obediently, Spencer curls his hand again, pumps his cock. “See, honey, feel that drag? Hurts, right? And not in the good way,” you add with a grin, and Spencer gulps. A slightly wicked idea crosses your mind. “We’re gonna go to bed now, okay?”

Like a lost little puppy, Spencer trails after you, joins you on the bed. You let him kiss you again, until his whines get too needy and his hips start to twitch. “Will you open that top drawer for me, sweetheart? Got something in there that’ll help you, okay?” Obediently, he rolls over, tugs the drawer open. You study his face carefully, watch his jaw go slack as he realises what you’re showing him. Your collection of sex toys stares up at him, and he gapes like a fucking fish. An adorable fish, but a fish all the same.

“What do you… you want me to..?” he says, still staring like he couldn’t possibly compute what you’re asking of him.

You laugh, only a little meanly. “Don’t worry, honey,” you say, padding around the bed to help him out. “You’re not ready for that stuff. Not yet, anyway. You’re such a good boy for Mommy, Spencer, such a quick learner. Pretty soon I’ll have you begging for ‘em. But not tonight, alright?” You lean down to pluck a small plastic bottle from the drawer. “This is all we need tonight. Do you know what that is, baby?”

Squinting his eyes, Spencer inspects the bottle. “Lubricant?” he says, mouth forming the word into a question.

“Such a clever boy,” you croon, settling yourself between his legs and taking his hand. You turn it palm up and squint a generous amount of lube into Spencer’s hand. “Spread that on your pretty dick for me, okay, baby?” The slick sound of it fills your ears, pulses in your cunt, and you can see on his face how much better he feels even from a scant touch. Eyes fluttering shut, he groans, but waits obediently for another instruction. “That’s it. That’s Mommy’s good boy, huh? Alright, honey. Now stroke yourself for me. You wanna start nice and slow, okay?”

You’re transfixed as he begins to touch himself, cock wet and glistening as it disappears into his fist. Lube drips out across his fingers, slick noises filling your room. “Feels so good, Mommy,” he whimpers, free hand fisting in your sheets.

“Oh, honey, I know,” you murmur, sitting up and sliding your hand into your panties. You moan as you brush your clit, collect your wetness on your fingertips. “Okay, I want you to just draw some little circles across the head, yeah? Like you do on my clit. Just try it out, see what feels good.” The sight is fucking mesmerising, and from the sounds spilling from his lips and the flush in his cheeks, it’s a miracle he hasn’t cum all over himself yet. “Alright, baby. Doing so good. You can make yourself cum now, alright? Just keep doin’ what feels good.”

Your lips part around a moan as you watch him. He speeds up, slows a little, experimenting with pace and pressure. You’re strangely proud even as you rub frantic little circles into your clit, slowly start to fuck yourself on your fingers. Desire pools at the base of your spine, and you moan his name as you speed up, cunt pulsing around your fingers. It seems like that’s what does Spencer in, a pathetic whimper of Mommy, yes spilling from his lips as ropes of cum splash up against his chest. His body convulses, gasping and moaning incoherently as his orgasm takes over.

Still panting as you finger yourself, you smile blithely over at him. “Still with me, pretty? How was that?”

Gasping, Spencer blinks helplessly at you for a moment. “Thank you.” Suddenly dismayed, he looks down at himself. “Gross,” he mutters.

Your grin widens. “All messy, aren’t you? You want Mommy to get you cleaned up?” He nods, expecting you to get up and fetch a washcloth. Instead, you press him down until he’s lying supine, lean over him so your boobs hang in his face. Like he can’t resist, Spencer licks a stripe along your chest. You giggle softly, press a kiss to the hollow of his throat, start to work your way down. Carefully, you lap up the mess dripping across his chest, and he moans brokenly. Your eyes flutter closed as his taste hits your tongue, a needy ache burning between your thighs the longer you lick him clean.

He chokes on a breath when you wrap your lips around his head, clean up the last drops of cum beaded on his tip. “I can’t-” he clears his throat. “I can’t… go again… yet,” he says, cheeks pinking up adorably.

You pull off, lick your lips exaggeratedly. “S’okay, honey. I don’t need you to. Yet,” you add with a wink. “Just wanted to get you cleaned up.” Still desperately horny, you crawl up his body, kiss him furiously. “Spencer,” you moan against his lips. “I want you to make me cum. Do you wanna make Mommy cum, baby?”

“Mhmm. Yeah, I want to. What do you…? Can I, uh… Eat you out?” he asks timidly, the final few words unfamiliar on his tongue and belying his desperation.

God above, where did you find this boy? “Another time, honey. Later tonight, if you’re lucky. But I’m planning on keeping your mouth nice and busy for now, okay?” You grab his hand, slide it around to the front of your panties, grind your clit against the heel of his palm through the lace. “Want you to fuck me with your fingers, okay, sweetheart?”

Nodding frantically, Spencer tugs your panties down just enough that he can fit his hand against your cunt. You cup his jaw, kiss him hard as he slips a finger inside you. “You’re so warm,” he breathes, rubbing delicate circles into your clit as your cunt pulses around him.

“That’s it, pretty. Such a good boy. Just like Mommy taught you, alright?” you moan, arching your back as hot pleasure twists under your skin. Spencer slides another finger in, curls then expertly, as if he’s been practicing. Then, a blinding spark of pure ecstasy flashes through you. “Oh, my fucking God! There, baby, right there. Don’t stop, don’t you dare fucking stop. Fuck, fuck, fuck!” you babble, your kiss more spit and moans than tongue and lips. Spencer doesn’t let up, hits your g-spot over and over, still rubbing soft circles into your clit. You were already close before he started, and his glorious, frankly brutal assault on the most sensitive places in your body leaves you powerless.

You surrender to it willingly, pure pleasure wiping your mind clean. It’s so forceful you almost black out, gasping into Spencer’s mouth and writhing against him. Ecstasy floods every inch of you, pulse roaring in your ears and hammering in your chest. Spencer’s fingers are still deep inside you when you come to, and he’s staring down at the point they disappear into your cunt. “Sorry,” he murmurs, gently pulling them out. “I just really like being… inside you.”

God, you can’t wait to teach him about cockwarming. “So sweet,” you coo. He lifts his hand, sucks your arousal off his fingers, and you groan. “I think we need to have a little talk, honey,” you murmur, brushing sweat-soaked hair out of his face. He nods.

“I didn’t enjoy it,” he says quickly. “The other night. I mean, it was… It wasn’t… I don’t know. All I could think about was that she wasn’t you. I was, uh… Sort of afraid?” he says with a humorless laugh.

You make a soft, concerned noise. “What do you mean, honey?” Your fists clench at your sides, head pounding furiously all of a sudden.

“Just that… I feel so safe with you. And it wasn’t that she made me feel bad, or unsafe, or anything. But I was so worried about doing something wrong, and I never felt that with you, and all I wanted was you instead.” Spencer curls his body into yours as you hook a leg over his waist.

Brushing your thumb over his cheek softly, you gaze into his sweet, long-lashed eyes. “You have me, sweetheart. I promise.”

[ennabear]

I see your request for Sevika headcannons and I raise you the idea that Modern!Sevika is absolutely an old man despite being in her 40’s. After she settles down, she’s in bed by 9:30, wears reading glasses with a chain on them (love me a butch in glasses tbh), has her designated reclining chair that’s perfectly molded to her butt, and sits in front of the window to watch her bird feeder and shoo away squirrels. Our girl deserves her rest.

YEAHHHHHHHHHH HEHEHE THANK YOU FOR THIS BEEE 🤭🤭 grandpa sevika is so me we’d be perfect for each other <33 also you’re right she deserves a quiet and simple life heheh

most mornings you’ll find her curled up in front of you while you wrap your arms around her waist. if she’s awake before you, she’ll have a book in her hands, reading glasses (with the chain) perched on her nose, an adorably sleepy squint on her face as she tries to focus on the words with the sun illuminating the room.

you’ll snuggle closer to her and take in her cozy scent, along with the lingering sleep-warmth from your little den. it’ll take at least an hour, maybe more, for the both of you to get out of bed, too busy yawning and kissing and giggling and reading to each other to make an effort to get up. it’s not like it matters though, you know you have the whole day to yourselves.

if she’s not in bed next to you, there’s a 100% chance she’ll be found on the front porch, sipping from her mug of tea (or coffee if she needs it), staring up into the trees at some bird you’ve never heard of. you’ll pad out there as quietly as possible, yet still get reprimanded because “your stomping will scare it away!”

sevika’s job is to tidy up the bed while you make her coffee or tea, and then she meets you in the kitchen to start breakfast. sometimes it’s simple, just a slice of toast and some jam, and sometimes you cobble up a big enough feast to feed the entire neighborhood. but either way, you sit at the table and eat together, helping her answer the daily crossword puzzle in the newspaper. no matter how many times she’s told that she can do an unlimited number of crosswords online, she refuses. she thinks the paper version is better. (she doesn’t know how to use her phone).

after breakfast, you’ll find something to do with your time. either a small renovation to your house, like forcing sevika to fix the creaky doors after months of complaining about it, going for a walk or hike, volunteering together, or just watching tv all day. she’ll huff and claim that she doesn’t wanna leave the house and have to put up with the stupidity of everyone else in the world, but as soon as you get her outside, she’s having the time of her life.

she’ll point out different trees and plants on your walk, spilling hundreds of facts about them as if it’s common sense. she spends her free time reading, watching documentaries, and playing trivia, so of course she knows everything about everything.

and at the end of the day, (well, the “end” for her, which is just mid-afternoon) she’ll be found relaxing and unwinding in her recliner. it’s hers only. she spends hours in that thing, flicking through tv channels, reading 3 books per day, trying to teach herself how to knit or crochet, having a conversation with you from another room, sleeping, eating, anything. that thing is molded to her body perfectly, you think she might love it more than she loves you. there’s an indent where her ass always plants itself, perfectly shaped wells for her legs, and creases where her elbows poke into the armrests.

she’ll have you bring her dinner while she stares out the window, marveling at the hummingbirds that stop by to sip on the sweet nectar from sevika’s hummingbird feeder. she’ll curse when a dog and it’s owner walk by and scare her birdies away, but you know of her secret stash of dog treats for the rare occasion that she lets them get close to her.

and then after dinner, she’ll turn on some nature documentary and close the blinds, surrounding herself with the gentle aura of you scrubbing the dishes clean in the sink, the soft buzz of the tv along with the wildlife it’s showing, her soft recliner, and the love in her heart after a long day. she’s out like a light in an instant. this happens every night, you’ll hear her gentle snores floating in from the living room, and you’ll walk in to find her fast asleep in her recliner. yet again.

“sevika, baby.” you whisper, shaking her gently.

nothing.

“sevikaaaaa!!” you sing, hoping it’ll pull her out of dreamland.

again, nothing.

you reach over to the coffee table and grab the remote, then turn the tv off for the night.

“hey, i was watching that!” she pouts, suddenly wide awake.

“no you weren’t, sleepyhead. let’s get you to bed.”

“it’s not bedtime yet.” she argues. “it’s only 8:59. i have half an hour.”

you roll your eyes and pull her up from where she’s melted against her seat, then drag her to the bathroom to shower after a long day. she’ll relax into you as you massage her scalp, and then she’ll scrub your back as gently as possible. sometimes things get a little steamy, like a makeout session against the wall. but sometimes, like today, she’s to sleepy to try anything.

as soon as the clock strikes 9:30, she’s tight in your arms again, drooling onto her pillow, her gentle snoring filling the room. you wouldn’t trade this gentle life for the world, no matter how exhausting it can be to keep up with the chores that every new day presents, each one getting harder as you age and get more worn out. but you know it’ll all be okay, because you have sevika and sevika has you, and that thought eases you into sleep alongside her.

[enwoso]

LITTLE WORDS | alessia russo x child!reader x leah williamson

cute lil one in honour of it being lessi’s birthday🤍

grumpy masterlist

it was a crisp february morning and sunlight streamed softly through the blinds, warming the cozy bedroom alessia shared with leah.

as alessia stirred awake as she stretched lazily under the duvet. but before she could fully take in the unusual quietness of the morning, she heard the unmistakable sound of giggles and hushed whispers from the other side of the door.

a second late, the door was slowly creaking open as you bounced in, your messy blonde hair bouncing with excitement. as you carried a tray in your small hands, through it was clearly too big for you as leah followed close behind, steadying it with a smile.

"happy brithday, mummy!" you squealed as leah took the try from your hands as you jumped onto the bed, landing on your mummy as a loud grunt came from her as leah set the tray carefully on alessia's lap once you'd moved off to the side.

the tray was perfect: fluffy pancakes drizzled with syrup, a bowl of fresh strawberries which you taken a few from before they made it into the bowl and a mug of her favourite coffee in the mug leah always teased her about never washing properly.

a single daisy sat in a little vase which you had taken from your mummy's flower bed on the front lawn but she wouldn't miss one.. the cheerful yellow face of the flower brightening the whole scene as alessia's chest swelled with emotion.

"oh, you two.." alessia said softly, her voice thick with affection. "this is perfect, thank you"

“mummy i helped cut the strawberries!” you exclaimed proudly, your little hands clapping together a big grin on your lips.

“she was very serious about it,” leah added, her grin warm as she perched on the edge of the bed, “i was merely just the assistant!”

alessia chuckled as she glanced between you and leah, “i can tell, it looks delicious!”

the three of them ate together, you launching into an animated story about your breakfast mission while leah chimed in with reading commentary as every so open your slip a chopped strawberry into your mouth from the tray that sat so perfectly on your mummy’s lap.

alessia couldn’t stop smiling, she felt surrounded by so much love that it made her heart ache in the best way. but she couldn’t help but notice the way you and leah kept exchanging little glances— something was up.

after breakfast, you suddenly jumped off the bed and darted to the corner of the room, returning with a small box wrapped in glittery paper which was topped with a slightly lopsided bow.

“here mummy!” you said, thrusting it towards alessia, “your present!”

alessia took it carefully, her fingers brushing over the sparkling wrapping paper. “this looks so special,” she muttered.

“open it! open it!” you urged bouncing on the bed beside your mummy.

alessia smiled as she gently unwrapped the gift, peeling back the paper and seeing a dainty little box as she carefully lifted the lid of the the box.

inside was a delicate silver necklace, a small pendent shaped like a heart. alessia’s breath caught when she noticed the engraving: ‘i love you mummy, lovie xxx’

for a moment she was silent her fingers trembling as she traced over the tiny letters. tears welling in her eyes and her voice broke as she whispered, “oh lovie.. this is beautiful.”

your face lit up, “do you like it mummy?”

“like it?” alessia choked out a laugh, holding the necklace so preciously in her hands, “baby, it’s perfect. i love it. the most beautiful thing i’ve ever seen.”

her tears spilled freely now and she reached out to cradle your small and cute little face in her hands, “did you write this all by yourself?”

you nodded furiously, your hand bouncing, “yes! lele helped me but i did write it all by myself!”

alessia heart swelled with so much love she for a moment thought it may burst. “your so clever my lovie.” she kissed your forehead as she hugged you tightly.

leah leaned back against the headboard, her job had been done as she held a knowing smile on her lips as she watched alessia’s reaction.

“you’re going to make me cry all day,” alessia said with a laugh, wiping the tears as she looked over at leah. “you knew this would completely wreck me didn’t you?”

leah smirked, leaning over to brush a thumb under alessia’s eyes. “maybe a little,” she teased. “but it was worth it.”

alessia laughed, her cheeks still wet with tears as she unclasped the necklace and fastened it around her neck. she held the pendant between her fingers letting the light catch on the silver.

“i’m never taking this off,” she promised, her voice trembling again. “i mean it, it’s perfect.”

“mummy you look so pretty.” you smiled you voice full of awe.

alessia pulled you into the gap between her and leah as she hugged you tightly holding you close. “you make me the happiest mummy in the world. thank you lovie.”

you giggled leaning back withal a grin, “your welcome mummy. leah said you’d cry a lot.”

“did she now?” alessia asked, raising a playful eyebrow at leah who shrugged innocently a playful smile on her face.

leah laughed. “i mean i wasn’t wrong was i?”

before alessia could respond, you suddenly jumped off the bed. “wait! i have something else!” you yelled, dashing out the room before either leah or alessia could stop you.

as the sound of your little footsteps faded down the hallway leaving behind a soft echo that seemed to carry the warmth of your small personality.

leah turning attention back to alessia, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as she leaned closer, the faint scent of her perfume mingling with the moment. “you have so no idea how long it took to get her to write that herself.”

alessia only laughed, she could only imagined. the sound bubbling up like sunlight breaking through clouds and reached out to take leah’s hand.

her touch soft yet steady, her fingers curling around leah’s as though grounding herself in the reality of the moment. “it’s perfect. your perfect - both of you.”

leah’s smile softened, her eyes tracing alessia’s features like a map she had memorised but never tired of exploring. slowly she tilted forward, her breath a gentle caress against alessia’s skin as she pressed her lips to alessia’s.

the kiss lingered, warm, tender and unhurried and imbued with a quiet reverence that spoke volumes more than words ever could. it wasn’t just a kiss; it was a promise and unspoken vow to love, protect and cherish.

“you deserve it all less,” leah turned only inches away from the blondes lips. leah’s voice low and rich with emotion as she pulled back just enough to meet alessia’s gaze.

her thumb brushed lightly over the back of alessia’s hand, grounding them both in the intimacy of the moment. “happy birthday, my love.”

alessia sighed, the sound escaping her lips like a release of all the tension she hadn’t realised she’d been holding. her fingers found there way back to the delicate necklace around her neck, brushing over the engraved words with a little reverence which made her heart ache with gratitude.

in that moment, with leah’s warmth still lingering in her skin and the weight of the love they had built between them she had never felt more cherished or more complete in her entire life.

[seokmn]

pairing: seungcheol x gn!reader

wc: 0.4k words

lua’s note: merry christmas everyone!! hope yall eat a lot and feel very loved today ❤️💚

the night was incredibly cold, thankfully you were cozy and warm inside your house, preparing hot chocolate for you and your boyfriend. the fireplace lighting the whole living room and a part of the kitchen with a yellow light, giving a comfy vibe to the house.

“cheol? the hot chocolate is done!” no answer. “cheollie?” you looked around the house, entering room by room trying to find him, but he was no where to be found.

“seungcheol?” you raised your voice, “if you’re trying to scare me, you better not. im holding two mugs full of hot chocolate!” still no answer.

where could he be?

you decided to look outside the window and there seungcheol was, doing something in the middle of the snow. you placed the mugs on the kitchen counter, put on your coat, grabbed the mugs again and went outside. “what are you doing? it’s freezing here!”

seungcheol turned around to look at you and smiled, “there you are,” he wrapped his arm around your waist and pulled you closer, being careful to not make you spill the hot chocolate. “you made us hot chocolate, huh? youre the best.” he kissed your cheek.

“yea yea, what are you doing here?” you handed him his mug, he took it and murmured a thank you. “creating a masterpiece, cant you see it?” he gestured to the ground and you looked at it, surprised to see that he made a perfect heart shape in the snow

“oh wow! we have an artist here, everyone.” you chuckled and took a sip of the hot chocolate while seungcheol was smiling proudly, delighted with his work. “whats the name of the masterpiece?”

“my heart.” you laughed and tilted your head, “‘my heart’?”

“yes. you see, thats my heart before i met you”

“you mean in a perfect shape?” you quirked your eyebrow and he laughed and and moved his head left and right, indicating a ‘perhaps’ with his head movements. “in a perfect shape, but frozen”

“and what about after you met me?”

“you see when the snow melts”

“then there’ll be no heart”

“exactly. my heart will start to melt because your love is warm and then it’ll disappear because you stole it.” you laughed and shook your head. “youre so cheesy, i swear to god.”

seungcheol chuckled, you could see the cold air coming out of his mouth and his red nose due the cold weather. his lips met yours as he gave you a gently kiss.

“now lets go inside, please. im freezing and our hot chocolate will become frozen chocolate if we stay here for too long”

[burningembers91]

Family Unit - Park Gyeong-Seok x Fem!Reader

Follow up piece to:

Loving You From Afar The Shape of You

Synopsis: You and Park Gyeong-Seok decide to take the next step in your relationship

You could feel Na-Yeon’s gaze on you, could hear her quietly giggling as she stood by your side of the bed. You sleepily opened one eye, then the other, smiling as you saw her waiting for you to wake up. The Disney Princess pyjamas you’d bought her were baggy on her thin little frame, but she looked so cute in them. “Good morning,” you whispered, pulling back the duvet so she could crawl into bed next to you. This had become your new morning routine; Na-Yeon would wake you up at the crack of dawn, you’d snuggle in bed, try to get a few more minutes of sleep, and then you’d get up and get ready for the day. On the days you didn’t work, you usually took Na-Yeon into her room to play, to give Gyeong-Seok space to sleep. He was a light sleeper though, and always heard you get up. sometimes he’d pretend to stay asleep though, just to give you and his daughter more time to bond.

You hadn’t left his apartment since the night you discovered the drawings. For six blissful weeks, you’d spent every day and night here, only returning home to fetch a new bagful of clothes or to do a load of laundry. You’d go to work during the day, while he stayed home with Na-Yeon. In the evening, he would head off to teach his night class (which he could now proudly say was a permanent job), and you would look after Na-Yeon. You didn’t get to spend much time together, your catch ups usually consisting of soft, sleep-hazed sex when Gyeong-Seok returned from work, followed by some whispered conversation before you fell asleep. Every moment you had together was precious, and you cherished every second.

You laid in bed with your eyes closed, listening as Na-Yeon chatted away. She never ran out of things to say, laughing and giggling. You weren’t always entirely sure what she was talking about, but it always made you smile.

Gyeong-Seok stirred next to you, yawning loudly as his arm came round to scoop you and his daughter into a hug. He loved his new family; and for the first time in years, he felt lighter than air. Na-Yeon was still sick, but he didn’t have to deal with the burden alone anymore. You’d slotted in so perfectly, treating his daughter like your own. Nothing was too much for you, and Gyeong-Seok didn’t think he’d ever be able to repay you for your kindness. You were still sleeping on the broken sofa bed, the springs digging into your backs each night. If you were uncomfortable, you never complained. His first paycheck from his new job would be arriving soon. Na-Yeon’s treatment would again take up most of the money he earned, but he was desperate to get a more comfortable bed for you to sleep on. He’d thought about asking you to move in permanently, to see if you could get a place together so you could have a proper bedroom, like a proper couple. He hated having to sneak around his own living room like a teenager, having whispered conversations with you so you didn’t take his daughter. He worried it was too soon though; life was so perfect at the moment, and he didn’t want to ruin it by moving too quickly.

The three of you lay there bed together, you and Gyeong-Seok listening to Na-Yeon babble away. His arms pulled you in closer, his lips pressing a tender kiss on your earlobe. He wished he could freeze time, wished he could bottle this moment and keep it forever. But you’d need to get up soon to get ready for work, and his daughter would need her breakfast.

“I need to do some laundry tonight,” you said, after you’d showered and gotten ready for work. “I’ll take Na-Yeon back to mine tonight, maybe get us a pizza as a little treat.” Gyeong-Seok looked at you over the rim of his coffee mug, eyes alight as he took in your silk shirt and burgundy pencil skirt. It still utterly baffled him that you loved him; that a poor, scruffy painter could be lucky enough to find someone like you. “I hate having to constantly go back and forth,” you sighed, taking a seat next to him at the kitchen table. “I’ve been thinking actually…” You smiled slyly, pulling something from your bag. “This place has just come up, in the same building we’re in now. It’s a 2-bed place, and it even has a small balcony. I was thinking, if we put our money together, we could just about afford it.”

You sat waiting for his answer, chewing the inside of your cheek nervously as you watched him look over the apartment. You knew it was hasty, but you’d never been more sure of anything in your life. Your little family unit needed a bigger place to grow. The apartment overlooked the playground, and you already knew you’d be out there with Na-Yeon each day. Money would be tight, but you’d make it work, and once Na-Yeon was better things would be easier. “I really like it,” he smiled, “are you sure you want to do this?” He didn’t want you to feel like you had to move in with him, like you had to somehow make life easier for him. “Of course I want to,” you smiled, leaning forward for a kiss. “I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

Later that day, Gyeong-Seok arranged a viewing, and two weeks later you had the keys. The first thing he did was throw away the old sofa bed, before proudly placing the bed from your apartment in your new room together. You finally had your own space, somewhere where you could be a proper couple. As the three of you sat down for dinner that night, surrounded by moving boxes and bubble wrap, Gyeong-Seok was sure he’d never been happier.

[jincapableoflove]

House of Cards | one-shot (TEASER)

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Releasing: Soon

Genre/Tags: yandere! jungkook, psychological thriller, dark romance, unreliable narrator, toxic relationships, angst, slight fluff

Summary: Your life with Jungkook is perfect—until the cracks begin to show. A photo with the wrong date. A diary filled with memories you don’t recall. A door that vanishes overnight. And Jungkook—always there, always watching, always pulling you back when you start to question too much. You know something is wrong. But the real question is: Have you forgotten… or were you made to?

Word count: tbd (currently at 6k)

Teaser word count: 233

Warnings: memory manipulation, gaslighting, psychological abuse, dark themes, obsessive love, paranoia, identity crisis, emotional distress, forced dependency, thriller elements, unsettling atmosphere, toxic relationships, mild horror undertones (unsettling imagery, eerie reflections, distorted reality), death/loss of a loved one.

A/N: oops this got a bit dark while writing. ive been obsessed with this genre for a while! lmk if u have any bts fanfic suggestions of this same theme (not yandere jungkook im talking about psychological thrillers) taglist is openn! if ur interested to be a part of it then drop a message below this post or send me an ask!

Loving hands, a silver tongue, A story twisted, memories undone. A door appears, then fades away, Were you lost, or made to stay? He swears it’s love, whispers sweet, But chains wrapped soft still bind your feet.

The coffee is smooth, comforting. Jungkook leans against the counter, watching you sip from the mug he made for you. The morning hums around you—soft music, the rustle of the wind outside, the distant murmur of the city waking up.

Everything feels normal.

But the feeling from earlier still lingers.

Your eyes wander absently as you take another sip, landing on the fridge. A small Polaroid is pinned to the surface with a cat-shaped magnet. You and Jungkook, standing in front of what looks like a park, his arm curled around your waist, your head tilted against his shoulder. The two of you are smiling—wide, happy, in love.

Your fingers tighten around the mug. Something isn’t right.

You step closer, peeling the photo off the fridge. On the back, in your own handwriting, a date is scrawled: Three years ago.

You frown. That’s not possible.

You and Jungkook have been together for a year. You remember it so clearly—your first date, the way he kissed you under flickering streetlights, the way he whispered he loved you for the first time last winter.

Three years ago, you didn’t even know him.

A chill creeps up your spine.

TAGLIST IS OPEN! if you are interested in being a part of it please drop a message below this post or send me an ask!

[takami-takami]

UHHHH so like Keigo getting wholeheartedly distracted from his daddy issues on Father's Day because he has a single passing thought about making you a parent and now the baby fever + breeding kink combo are beating his ass

Thoughts?

- magpie anon ✦

Keigo's hell begins over coffee.

Coffee and a mindless, paltry comment.

Keigo has always been chipper in the morning, if not a little understimulated by the rest of the world taking its sweet time catching up to his trademark speed. Like most mornings, your boyfriend is a blur of red and gold, flitting about the kitchen to prepare the perfect breakfast for you two to start off the day.

Pots and dishes click and clatter around you, and you swear you see a dollop of pancake batter go flying as a stray feather does its work mixing the bowl to free Keigo’s hands to cook.

You, on the other hand, are perfectly content sulking by the coffee machine.

You take a sip. Your coffee is dark roast— a little reminiscent of the bags under your eyes, as you force yourself to keep them open long enough for the caffeine to hit your system. If they close for more than a second, you fear they won't open again.

Perhaps letting sleep take you would be preferable. You want nothing more than to crawl back under the quilted covers, to drag your boyfriend back in bed with you for ‘just five more minutes’ and bury yourself in his warmth; but judging by the way he’s bouncing off the walls today, you don’t suppose convincing Keigo is an option.

Breakfast looks practically gourmet as Keigo drizzles strawberry syrup in creative shapes. He arranges fruit slices in the shape of a heart for your plate.

You’re doing your part, though. You dunk sugar in Keigo’s coffee and rub the sleep from your eyes.

“I’m bored,” Keigo suddenly asserts.

“Mm,” you hum, warming your hands against the mug.

“We never do anything this time of year,” Keigo says. 

“Do you want to,” you respond, with a raised brow.

Keigo hums. He gets it. You both do. Still, every year, something unknown itches and claws at the back of his throat.

“Tsukuyomi asked for the day off today,” Keigo continues, almost shyly. He stares into the crackling eggs that are about to char on the frying pan and pokes them with a spatula. “Wanted to spend it with his folks again.”

“Yeah? He deserves it, honestly,” you say. “Good kid. What, are you jealous or something? Want a day off too, huh?”

Keigo shrugs. You almost snort as you make your way to leave the kitchen and set the table. 

As you pass Keigo by, you push his mug into his chest and plant a peck on his cheek.

“If you’re that bored on father’s day,” you yawn. “You could always just knock me up.”

Keigo forgets to flip the eggs. 

He forgets a lot of things, actually. 

You could always just knock me up.

Several of his interns ask Keigo to write letters of recommendation for them at work; and his handler reminds him today is the last day of the week, so he needs to look over the particulars in the database for his agency to be sent to the higher ups. 

Thus, even as he dons the visage of the hero Hawks, Keigo is confined to the torture chamber that is solitary confinement in his office with his thoughts.

He could always just knock you up.

Several chewed pen caps litter the expanse of his mahogany desk, another falling with a thunk to join its brethren among the pen cap graveyard.

I could always just knock them up.

Keigo decides to take the train ride home, opting to give his wings time to recover from a recent fight against a particularly tricky villain. He watches the scenery blaze by in a fog, pensive as the raindrops plop against the window.

He should probably just knock you up.

[gracie-eilish]

babygirl🩷

an: pov i’m ovulating and i have raging baby fever.

The house was quiet, bathed in the soft golden glow of the kitchen lights as you stood by the stove, waiting for your tea to steep. The night air carried a peaceful stillness, the kind that came at the end of a long day, where everything felt slower, softer, and just a little dreamier. You wrapped your hands around your mug, savoring the warmth against your palms, letting out a slow, contented sigh.

Then, almost as if she had been waiting for the perfect moment, Billie appeared behind you. You felt her before you saw her—the warmth of her body pressing gently against your back, the soft inhale of breath just before she dipped her head down, her lips grazing your shoulder.

“Hi, my beautiful girl,” she murmured, her voice thick with affection, almost sleepy but still filled with that deep, ever-present adoration she had for you.

You smiled, leaning back into her embrace as her arms found their way around you, her hands settling instinctively over the curve of your belly. She exhaled softly, nuzzling against the side of your neck before pressing a few lingering kisses there, her lips warm against your skin.

“You’re extra cuddly tonight,” you teased, taking a slow sip of your tea.

Billie hummed against your shoulder, swaying both of you ever so slightly, her hands moving in gentle, reverent circles over your belly. “Can’t help it,” she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re carrying our baby, love. You’re literally the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your heart melted at that, your free hand resting over hers, intertwining your fingers as she continued to hold you from behind. Billie had always been affectionate, always made you feel so deeply loved, but ever since your belly had started showing, she had been downright obsessed with touching you, holding you, making sure you knew just how in awe she was of you.

She pressed another soft kiss to your cheek, then another, then another, like she couldn’t get enough. “I swear, I’ll never get over this,” she murmured, her fingers brushing feather-light over your belly, tracing little shapes as if she were memorizing every inch. “You’re glowing, baby.”

You let out a small laugh, shaking your head. “I think that’s just the kitchen light.”

“Nope,” Billie countered, squeezing you gently. “It’s you. My gorgeous wife, growing our little girl.” Her voice softened even further, if that was even possible. “I love you so much, you know that?”

You turned your head slightly, meeting her lips for a slow, tender kiss, her arms tightening around you just a little more. “I love you too, love bug.”

Billie grinned at the nickname, then placed a dramatic, exaggerated kiss right on your cheek. “Mmm, I’m never letting you go,” she sighed, resting her chin on your shoulder as she continued swaying you both side to side.

You let yourself relax completely against her, sipping your tea while Billie held you, basking in the warmth of each other. There was something so incredibly comforting about the way she surrounded you, how she made sure you felt nothing but love, nothing but safety and ease.

After a few minutes, Billie let out a small hum, squeezing you once more before tilting her head toward your mug. “Tea good?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, finishing the last sip. “Perfect.”

Billie smiled, taking the mug from your hands and setting it down on the counter. “Alright, beautiful, bedtime.”

You let out a soft laugh but didn’t protest as she took your hand, guiding you gently toward the bedroom. Billie had been extra careful with you lately, always making sure you didn’t overexert yourself, always insisting on taking care of you in any way she could.

The moment you reached the bed, Billie pulled back the blankets, making sure everything was perfectly soft and cozy before helping you settle in. She took her time tucking you in, smoothing a hand over the covers, making sure your belly was nice and warm.

“There we go,” she murmured, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead. “All comfy, my love?”

You smiled sleepily, nodding as you reached for her. “Come here.”

Billie didn’t need to be asked twice. She slid in beside you, wrapping an arm around you as she pulled you close, her other hand resting right back on your belly, her favorite place to be.

She let out a happy sigh, pressing a kiss to your temple as her thumb traced slow, soothing circles over your stomach. “This is perfect,” she whispered.

You hummed in agreement, already starting to drift off in her arms. Billie was your home, your warmth, your safe place. And as she held you, her hands never leaving your belly, you knew there was no better way to end the night than wrapped up in her love.

an: the baby fever is raging rn and i had a few mom/pregnant reader requests so.. expect more of these if i release any more fics in the next few days. saw a child walk around the store i work in, holding a little jellycat bunny and i nearly cried. *sigh* the wonders of having a uterus.

[girlrotterr]

Hey, so, I have read almost all your work and I have loved all of them. I have no idea if you do request (I understand if you don’t x) but I was wondering if you could do a fanfic about pottery, I have been loving it recently and I cant seem to get Ellie Williams doing pottery of my mind. This can be a smut or just a fluff I don’t mind. Again I completely understand if you don’t do requests xx

P.S I don’t mean the ‘xx’ in a bad, it’s just something I do to be kind. 🪼<This is just so I know if you do my request, I don’t claim it in any way.

" 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐊𝐈𝐍. "

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: ceramicist!ellie x apprentice!reader

𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: You start an apprenticeship with Ellie Williams, a renowned ceramicist known for her cold demeanor. When a sudden tension between you grows.

𝐀/𝐍: a little rusty on my writing so forgive me! I fell in love with this request and anon.

The first time you met Ellie, she barely looked at you.

You knew her name before you ever set foot in the studio. Ellie Williams—ceramicist, infamous in the art world. Her work spoke in textures and fractures, in pieces that felt like they had been unearthed rather than made. The kind collectors whispered about, the kind that never gathered dust in a gallery for long. And yet, she stayed here—buried in this dimly lit studio on the outskirts of the city, where the air was thick with the weight of clay dust and the sharp tang of burning glaze.

You had imagined this moment before, played out every version of it in your head—the quiet thrill of stepping into her world, the flicker of recognition in her gaze, maybe even the hint of a smile.

Instead, she barely spared you a glance.

She leaned against the worktable, exhaling a slow drag from a cigarette, fingers tapping absently against the wood. Smoke curled around her like an afterthought. She wore paint-stained overalls, the straps loose over a threadbare sweater, sleeves shoved to her elbows. Her hands—God, her hands—were streaked with dried slip, inked with tiny scars and half-healed nicks.

She didn’t acknowledge you. Just tapped ash onto the concrete floor, her expression unreadable, her eyes hooded like she had already decided you weren’t worth the effort.

You swallowed, shifting around “I’m supposed to start today. As your apprentice.”

Ellie exhaled smoke through her nose. Finally—finally—her gaze flicked toward you. A single glance, sharp and assessing, before she looked past you, as if already bored.

“Don’t fuck anything up.”

You should have been irritated. Should have rolled your eyes, maybe even walked out. But instead, something twisted low in your stomach.

Because for all her detachment, all her cold, effortless dismissal—Ellie Williams fascinated you.

And that was going to be a problem.

She turned away, flicking her cigarette into a clay-streaked mug on the counter, then gestured vaguely toward a wheel tucked in the corner. “Show me what you know.”

The air in the studio felt thick, pressing against your skin like damp fabric. You hesitated, then moved toward the wheel, rolling up your sleeves as you settled onto the stool. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for the clay—a ball of cool, damp earth waiting on the table.

Ellie leaned against the opposite counter, arms crossed. Watching. Always watching. Her gaze felt heavier than it should.

Taking a steadying breath, you pressed the clay against the spinning wheel. It wasn’t perfect, a little wobbly, but you knew the basics. You let your fingers glide over the surface, trying to shape something—anything—under the weight of her gaze.

The silence stretched.

Then—“You’re doing it wrong.”

You froze. “What?”

Ellie pushed off the counter and strode toward you, the scent of smoke and earth trailing behind her. She stood too close—close enough that you could see the freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way clay had settled into the creases of her fingers. Close enough that you felt the heat of her without her even touching you.

Her chin tilted slightly, gaze dropping to your hands. “Your pressure’s uneven. You’re gonna collapse the whole thing if you keep forcing it like that.”

Frustration prickled under your skin. You weren’t bad at this. You had experience. But under Ellie’s scrutiny, every movement felt clumsy.

“Then show me,” you said, meeting her gaze. “Show me how to do it right.”

Something shifted in her expression, just for a moment. A flicker of something unreadable before she scoffed, shaking her head.

“You’re not ready.”

You frowned. “How do you know that if you won’t even teach me?”

Ellie’s jaw tensed. Her fingers twitched at her sides, as if she was debating something. 

“Just—figure it out,” she muttered, turning away too quickly, grabbing a lump of clay and throwing it onto her own wheel with more force than necessary.

You watched her, confusion twisting in your chest.

She wouldn’t touch you.

The days in the studio bled into nights. You spent hours covered in clay, your fingers wrinkled and raw from the water, the air thick with the scent of earth and smoke. Ellie was a constant presence—sharp, impatient, always watching. She never praised you, barely acknowledged your progress, but you started to learn her silences. The way she hovered just close enough to correct you without touching, the way her eyes lingered on your work longer than necessary.

She never let you get too close.

But then—one night—you caught her staring.

The studio was quiet, save for the occasional drip of water from the sink and the distant murmur of the city outside, and the quiet crackle of Ellie’s cigarette. You were finishing up a piece, smoothing out the edges, when you felt it—that heavy, lingering gaze.

You looked up.

Ellie was sitting at her worktable, a half-finished sculpture in front of her, but she wasn’t working. She wasn’t even pretending to. Her eyes were on you—dark, hooded, something restrained simmering just beneath the surface.

Your breath hitched. Heat crept up your spine, curling at the base of your neck. You swallowed, heart pounding, hands still dusted with clay as you wiped them absently on your apron.

"Ellie?" Your voice was soft, careful.

Her jaw clenched. She looked like she wanted to say something, but instead, she dropped her gaze, her fingers curling into fists against the table.

"Don’t—" She cut herself off, shaking her head as if she could will the words away.

You swallowed. "Don’t what?"

She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes flicking back to yours, frustration warring with something else. Something raw. Something she didn’t want to name.

"Don’t look at me like that."

She exhaled sharply through her nose, eyes flicking back to yours, frustration warring with something else. Something raw. Something she didn’t want to name.

Your fingers curled against the worktable, your pulse hammering in your throat.

"Like what?" you asked.

Ellie’s throat bobbed as she swallowed. Her hands twitched like she wanted to grab something—grab you—but instead, she pushed herself up from the table so fast her chair scraped against the floor.

"It’s late," she muttered, already turning away. "Go home."

The tension only got worse afterwards.

The kind of tension that crackled in the air, waiting for the right moment to ignite.

And maybe you were impatient. Maybe you wanted to see what it would take to make her snap.

So you challenged her—constantly.

Not with teasing, not with soft words or lingering glances, but with pure, relentless defiance.

You questioned her methods, countered her critiques, pushed back every time she dismissed you. When she told you your form was sloppy, you demanded to know why. When she muttered a vague correction, you pressed until she had to explain herself. When she tried to shut you out, you forced your way in.

And it infuriated her.

"You have to be precise," Ellie said one evening, watching as you tried—again—to carve the fine details into the rim of your piece.

"I am precise," you argued, scowling as you adjusted your grip on the tool.

Ellie scoffed. "No, you’re stubborn. There’s a difference."

"Or maybe you just don’t know how to teach," you shot back.

Her eyes snapped to yours, a flicker of something dangerous behind them.

"Excuse me?"

You shrugged, pretending nonchalance. "You don’t explain anything. You just bark orders and expect people to understand."

Ellie took a slow breath, the kind people take when they’re trying not to lose their temper. "If you actually listened—"

"I do listen," you cut in. "But you never show me."

Her jaw clenched. "I don’t need to—"

"Yes, you do," you insisted, pushing the piece aside and turning fully toward her. "If you want me to get better, if you actually want me to learn—then show me how you do it."

Ellie flinched. Just barely. A quick, subtle shift in her expression, gone almost instantly.

And then she stepped back.

"No," she muttered, shaking her head. "You’re not even-"

You scoffed. "Bullshit."

Ellie stiffened. You saw the way her fingers twitched at her sides, the way her breath came just a little too fast, the way she refused to look directly at you.

It hit you all at once.

She wasn’t saying you weren’t ready.

She was saying she wasn’t.

You stared at her, something hot curling in your chest, frustration clawing its way up your throat.

"What is wrong with you?" you demanded. "Why won’t you just—"

"Because I can’t," Ellie snapped.

Silence crashed between you.

Ellie’s hands curled into fists, her whole body tense, like she was trying to hold herself together.

You opened your mouth, but she was already turning away, already grabbing her things, already moving for the door.

You didn’t think. You just moved.

Before Ellie could reach the door, you lunged forward and grabbed her wrist. Not hard, not enough to hurt—just enough to stop her.

She froze.

The air in the studio went thick and silent. You could feel the tension coiled in her arm, the way her muscles tensed beneath your grip. Her breath was sharp, shallow, like she was bracing for something.

"Let go," she said, low and warning.

"No," you shot back.

Ellie finally turned to face you, and the look in her eyes was something dangerous. Frustration, anger—but beneath that, fear. A hesitation she didn’t want you to see.

"You don’t get to just walk away," you pressed, tightening your grip slightly. "Not this time. You’re gonna tell me what your problem is, and you’re gonna do it now."

Ellie’s nostrils flared. "My problem?"

"Yeah," you snapped. "The way you look at me like you hate that I exist. The way you won’t touch me, even when it would help. The way you’re constantly holding back like—" You exhaled sharply, shaking your head. "What the hell is it, Ellie?"

She yanked her wrist out of your grasp and took a step back like she needed space, like being too close to you was the worst thing in the world.

"You wouldn’t fucking understand," she muttered.

"Then make me understand!"

Ellie ran a hand through her hair, exhaling hard, like she was trying to keep herself from breaking right in front of you.

"You’re my apprentice," she finally gritted out. "I’m supposed to teach you, not—" She cut herself off, shaking her head violently.

"Not what?" you pushed.

Ellie let out a bitter laugh, but there was no humor in it. She looked at you then, really looked at you, and something inside her cracked open just enough for you to see the mess beneath.

"Not want to fuck you," she muttered.

Your breath caught.

Ellie clenched her jaw so hard you thought she might shatter her own teeth. She looked like she hated saying it, like admitting it made her weak.

"I can’t fucking trust myself around you," she said, voice barely above a whisper. "That’s the problem."

Either way, before you could react, before you could so much as blink, she was there.

Right in front of you.

Her arm came up, pressing against the wall above your head, caging you in, the heat of her body radiating into the air between you. Her breath was ragged, hard, each inhale like she was fighting something. Like being this close to you was driving her to the edge of something she didn’t want to fall into.

You swallowed hard, barely able to move, barely able to think.

"Ellie," you whispered, and the moment your voice hit the air, you swore you heard it—

A groan. Low and strained, barely there, like she was pained by the sound of her own name in your mouth.

The air between you was hot—too hot. Your chest rose and fell in tandem with hers.

Her hand curled into a fist against the wall, the veins in her forearm tight beneath inked skin. Her jaw clenched like she was forcing herself not to move, not to close the inch of space that still remained between you.

"Don’t," she whispered, but it didn’t sound like she meant it.

You weren’t even sure what she was telling you not to do. Speak? Move? Breathe?

Ellie was so close now, you could feel the tension in her body like a coiled spring. Her chest heaved, her breath coming in uneven bursts as if every inhale took everything she had.

It was too much. Too much pressure in the air, too much in the way her hands clenched and her jaw was set tight, like she was trying to hold herself together by sheer will. And you—you could feel it too, that pull toward her, a force that made your body lean in, that made your heart race.

Without thinking, your hand lifted, and you reached for the strands of her hair.

The moment your fingers touched it, you felt the soft strands slide between your fingertips, and you couldn’t help it. You let your fingers drift through her hair, feeling the warmth and texture of it—rough yet silky

Ellie’s eyes snapped shut, her brow furrowing in frustration.

Her breathing grew even heavier, sharper. Her chest was rising and falling as though she was fighting the urge to take control, to pull away, but also fighting to stay exactly where she was.

And then—oh, you couldn’t stop it.

You tugged.

Just a little. Enough to pull her head back slightly, just enough to make her hair stretch in your fingers. The instant you did, she let out a sharp, ragged breath, like the sound was torn from her against her will.

Ellie’s whole body tensed. Her eyes shot open, and for a fraction of a second, you saw something break in her expression. 

But you don’t pull away. And neither does she.

There is nothing soft about the way it happens. There is nothing patient. When she gives in, it is all at once, her mouth crushing against yours, all teeth and hunger, all the restraint she’s clung to shattering like fragile porcelain.

Her hands are rough as they find your waist, pulling, gripping, needing—her nails biting into your skin hard enough to bruise. A quiet, desperate sound escapes her throat, like she’s been starving for this, like she’s finally caving to a need she’s tried to bury. She gripped your hips, steering you back until you hit the nearest worktable, the edge pressing into your lower back. In the rush, your hand knocked over a bowl of slip—wet clay spilling over the surface, dripping onto the floor with a thick splatter. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters but the feverish drag of her hands, the sharp pull of her fingers twisting in your shirt, yanking it up, her breath coming faster, rougher.

You taste months of tension snapping like a bowstring. Her hands slip under your shirt, dragging over your ribs, nails scraping as though she’s trying to mark you, trying to make this real. And maybe she is. Maybe she needs proof that she’s allowed to want this, even if she shouldn’t.

But then she jerks back, breathless, eyes wild.

"Fuck," she whispers, voice wrecked. She stares at you like she’s ruined something, like she’s just set fire to the last thread of her self-control.

And maybe she has.

Because now that she’s had a taste, she knows—

She’s never going to stop.

[wolfstarlibrarian]

As the Wolfstar Librarian I'm kind of shocked I haven't made this a list yet! And I just finished reading this cute book during the holidays so enjoy a late holiday rec!

Bookstore Wolfstar Fics

Collateral by fingerprintbruises The fic where Sirius flees from the paparazzi, Remus runs a bookstore, and Lily has great timing.

You've Got Love by @cruisinwritealong Remus connects with an enigmatic stranger online, runs an amazing bookstore, and has his life flipped upside down when a Potter Brothers Books megastore opens up just a few blocks away. To makes things even worse the owner of the megastore is charming, funny, and hot as hell. Based on the movie You've Got Mail

Wholly Civilised (orphaned account)

When Remus Lupin is mugged in an alley, the last thing he expects is to invite the mugger to his flat and offer him food and a job. But that's exactly what he does. What he learns about Sirius Black after that, turns his entire world upside down.

The Quiet War by CF_Casper "Let's use love like a knife try to cut through the surface Love can break through the ice when you're fighting a different kind of war” (Sirius and Lily are in a gang. James and Remus run a book shop. Everyone falls in love.)

The Certainty of You by uponavenueroad Sirius is a Hollywood actor who has not been entirely forthcoming about his identity to an undeniably charming, befuddled antique book seller from Notting Hill. The truth comes to a head the morning after a steamy one-night stand. A movie-star AU that’s loosely inspired by the classic romcom 'Notting Hill'.

A Likely Story (orphaned account Sirius Black is a famous Youtuber who can't help but keep coming back to the cozy bookstore, "A Likely Story". He quickly finds himself falling for the cute bookworm, Remus Lupin. This story won't be too long and is for all the softies that just need some fluff.

A Novel Idea by @haywirecompass Sirius writes horror, with the occasional help of his two best friends, who are raising a child and therefore worry him sometimes with the ideas they come up with. He loves reading just as much as he loves writing, so the new bookshop down the road seems like to perfect place to go to load his bookshelves to breaking point. Then he meets the owner, who is somehow adorable and hot at the same time, and everything goes a bit pear-shaped.

The Cafe Upstairs by @cottonpadenthusiast Remus Lupin can sum himself up in two words; book nerd. He can also sum up Sirius Black in three; hottest guy ever. Moreover, he can sum up the likelihood of a relationship between them in one; impossible.

Fine Motor Skills by @femme--de--lettres Sirius Black's car needs work—again. Meanwhile, Remus Lupin is amused to see his favorite customer back at his mechanic's shop.

the inconveniences in our favour by @magicbeings This is a story about a graffiti-covered wall, a boy unhealthily obsessed with it, and a man who really only wanted his dream of owning a peaceful bookshop not to be ruined by a stubborn artist. Sometimes, the most frustrating inconveniences turn out to really work in your favour.

A Very Bad, Terrible, No Good Day by @solar3cl1ip5e On the worst day of his life, Remus wakes up with a cold, without power, and no tissues. He also rear-ends the most attractive man he's ever seen.

Cupid Disarmed by Anonymous Remus Lupin has Veela blood, Sirius Black reads trite romance novels, and neither of them are quite sure what the fuck to do with their hands when they get to talking with one another.

You Burn Brighter than the Stars by The_wolf_the_rat_the_dog_and_the_stag Remus meets Sirius at the university bookstore where he works and falls instantly in love.

BOOK REC:

Looking for a book similar to these fics? With characters that are so lovable? Check out this book that features a queer bookstore owner and a romance novelist!

Look Up, Handsome by Jack Strange

[twistedpink]

Rook Hunt x Shapeshifter!Reader

The hardest thing you’ve ever done in your long, long life is climb the corporate ladder. The idol one, to be precise. Humans just can’t be pleased! It’s proven! With all your visual tweaks, and genre changes, and half-assed performances (that was later - your first couple debuts were flawless), you’re done. Officially, depressingly, quitting. The only thing to do with all the names and character ideas in the back of your head is retire, and focus on the “natural” path. Eating the people you wanted to have love you. In a way, it’s not all that different..

You’ll almost miss the limelight- Certainly not the stalkers and spandex, but definitely the attention. The best place in the modern world to avoid your past identities, believe it or not, is the city! Morphing into someone approachable’s easy game- You smooth out your celebrity cheekbones, let the fat of your chest and thighs redistribute into an average body, and when you’re just about done changing the shape of your teeth, it’s time to meet up with your date!

Humans are easy, a breed of mundane that you’d never find among your own kind- So unguarded in this era of seeing thousands of faces, how are you supposed to pick out things to steal if you don’t have firsthand experience? A mole here, or a scar there, human features definitely outweigh their.. Unfortunate intelligence.

Your date is perfect, as they always are with you. A tall, sunkissed blonde with a strong nose and stronger accent. He’s nothing short of beautiful- So much so you’d offered dropping by your place for some drinks. You wouldn’t mind taking a peek at something a bit more,, personal. He’s gullible enough to agree without further debate. They all are.

You’ve observed him the entire conversation- How his hands are calloused from work in the field, or the way his eyes react dollishly with your every word, not a thought behind those livestock eyes. He looks clean but doesn’t smell it.. He either doesn’t shower enough, or he’s peaked your senses,, You’ve been known for standing to attention with pretty boys.. Your eyes dilate when he speaks. He runs at 62 bpm, his eyes have little specks of gold, and GOD he’s trying to hold your hand! HOLD! HIS! HAND! YOU WILL DIE IF YOU DONT HOLD HIS HAND!

You’re sitting in the same booth, hot coffee sits in front of the both of you- You’re far too distracted to take a drink. You want him, Worse than you’ve ever wanted anything. The bay window’s light bathes him, like an angel.. You’re determined to make him a star. Once you’ve taken his body, of course. He’ll be your pretty muse! Give you motivation for the stage again! Your Rook. It’s torture to not lean into him, you want a bite,, :(

His vacant hand on the table reaches for his mug, and you see it happen like a stone coming at a glass house. It’d be too suspicious to react. You have to let it burn you. With a tink against the table, boiling coffee spills over the edge and onto your empty hand- Mercifully avoiding your date. While he goes to fetch a tissue, (stretching deliciously across the table) the offending wound flashes bright blues and greens in an attempt to colour match.. You really, truly hope you don’t have to explain away anything he might’ve seen. You don’t have the energy for that right now - much less to wipe yourself clean, so you let him do it. You’ve always fancied having a human or two wait on you.

“Ah! Ma puce! A touch off topic, but have you ever followed the lives of celebrities? I’m quite the fanatic, myself.”

Not one to fumble a hunt, you acquiesce. He’s a skilled multi tasker- The best a human can be, at least,,

“I do! I’m a super-fan of a newly retired poster girl for this hyperpop group,, totally gonna’ miss her stuff. Why do you ask?”

“Funny, you really do remind me of her.. In your own way. A fun coincidence, no?”

You consider, briefly, brushing him off- Ditching the project and skipping town,, There’s no point staying if your disguise isn’t perfect. Then again, why are you running in the first place from prey? This is your first human with the intuition to recognize you, even if it’s passing, you need to see how this plays out. You can’t help wondering if you might enjoy being hunted for once, if he’s really so good. The only way of knowing is to jump headfirst!

“So, how’s your schedule next Friday?”

@bju3c0re