#like it can even be just a conversation they have in bed before going to sleep

[lcriedlastnight]

Hi can i pls request a lando x reader where he mentions in many interviews that he wants an army of kids and the camara always pans to other drivers teasing reader

ofc you can baby <33 thanks for helping me celebrate! here's that kiss i promised xoxo

requests are open!

852 words.

it wasn't unknown that lando wanted kids. it's not like he went out of his way to to talk about having children either, he just went on half an hour tangents anytime an interviewer brought up the topic is all. you didn't find out just how many until you decided to ask him about it one night, not long after lando had gotten slandered on twitter for being 'obsessed' with having a mini version of himself running around.

"so.. you know how you've said you want kids?" you start, voice a little hesitant knowing he was a bit peeved about the bullying he was getting online for that very thing. if looks could kill you swear you would be a dead girl.

"don't you start." he groans, eyes rolling so hard to the of his head you thought they may get stuck.

lando, who had just gotten ready for bed, slips in beside you and you immediately know he's not actually pissed off at you because he is pulling your arm to get you as close to him as he physically could.

"i don't mean it like that, i just wanted to ask you about it." lando watches as you strain your neck up to be able to see his reaction from your very comfortable position on his chest. it does bring the smallest of smiles to his lips.

with a joking sigh he asks "what do you want to know?".

"well, i guess the most important one is-"

"if i want them with you?" lando interrupts, sending your brows into your hairline. you smack him on the back of the head and he just laughs like it was actually funny. dickhead.

"no! how many you want. but now i don't want any with you if they're going to turn out like you." you cross your arms over your chest, trying to convince him you actually were in a huff. a strong hand running down your front seconds after ruins your plans for any further annoyance though.

lando hums in thought before he answers your question. his hand now drawing random shapes on your hip bone.

"you're going to hate me when i say this, but i only really wanted a few maybe two max? but being with you? i want minimum four."

your gasp makes him wince. you're shocked, there is no way he is actually being serious. you tell him as much but he shakes his head and assures you just how serious he is.

"honestly baby. i want a big family with you."

his words may or may not rile you and you guys maybe get started on that big family that night, but you don't kiss and tell..

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍒 ꒱

lando wasn't to hold back on his thoughts or feelings and with his rants about wanting to start a family were proof of this, well you had thought so. the next time you're at the paddock is the next time he's asked about starting a family. you're watching from the side with max and oscar as he gets interviewed and you can see the say his whole face lights up at the question, as if racing was a chore he was getting forced to do every few weekends and not the second favourite part of his life.

lando takes a quick glance in your direction before he starts and it's like your conversation on the topic opened the floodgates in lando's mind as he reveals his every thought on having a baby or two or ten.

"me and my girlfriend were talking about this and it made me realise i want a full on norris army of children behind me. i want minimum four with my girl. ideally two of each but wouldn't even complain if all i had was girls because then that means that there would be so much more of my girl out there in the world, and little parts of me i guess too." lando's smile is splitting and the interviewer smiles back at him, loving seeing him being so open and honest about it.

"would you encourage your little ones to get involved in karting and racing?" she enquires. you can already picture taking your imaginary children along to watch lando in his races. it does make your heart skip a beat or two.

as the interview continues, unbeknown to you and the other two drivers who are making kissy faces at pretending to cradle a child in their arms just to tease you and how much lando was infatuated with the idea of kids with you, the camera pans in your direction to get a nice reaction shot to your boyfriend's words.

all they capture is your bright red face, from the teasing and lando blunt words, and the boys childish behaviour.

that night is then filled with lando teasing (and comforting) you as it was now your turn to get teased on twitter, millions of fans already making your reaction a meme. you knew you'd never live it down and a small part of you was excited to explain the video and reaction picture to those future kids.

[ohimsummer]

satoru gojo is tall, charming, powerful, radiating a commanding aura to both sorcerers and non-sorcerers alike. his presence demands attention, something he never has to struggle hard for. everyone around him usually grows intimidated just from him being in the vicinity—they get sweaty, they get nervous, they get shy. but not him. he’s not familiar with such emotions. satoru gojo has never been flustered…not until you, anyway.

he’s stuttered twice: once out of nervousness and the other out of pure shock. you didn’t even react to his first blunder, and that throws gojo off just a little more. he’s the strongest. he doesn’t make mistakes, doesn’t fumble over his words. satoru is about as perfect as perfect can get. and yet, here he is, tongue tied and twisted in knots all because…you’re looking at him?

this isn’t new. it’s not like he’s never been looked at before. quite the opposite, in fact. but this isn’t like the usual irate glances or idolizing, heart-eyed stares he gets from everyone else. you’re actually looking at him like a person, and paying attention on top of that.

ever since satoru began talking, you’ve hung on to every word he’s spoke, nodding along and interjecting with relevant dialogue. complimenting him, asking related questions, brows raising in surprise or intrigue when he says something you find interesting. despite this all being the usual bells and whistles of a normal conversation, satoru can’t help but feel a foreign pounding in his chest. he’s never experienced anything like this. not for a long while, anyway.

it’s not just the thudding behind his ribcage, but this sincere action of being seen. everyone else either looks through gojo, or over him, or away from him entirely and try not to acknowledge him at all, as if suffering through his company. but you, you’re actually looking at satoru, right in his face. dare he say, straight through his blindfold and into the azure blues underneath, as if it isn’t even there.

he has his silly suspicions that maybe you are looking through his blindfold. satoru considers that maybe you have some special power or technique to look through the fabric, but quickly squashes the nonsensical idea and decides instead that he’s just overthinking. and that conclusion flusters him even more.

the realization that you are actually interacting with him and listening to him….it’s not just going into one ear and out the other, or flying over your head as you pretend to listen and instead ogle the pretty features on his face. you’re…interested? in what he has to say? it almost seems implausible, but here you are, clinging to his every word and indulging in conversation with him. no restless fidgeting as you wait for it to end, nor a poorly concealed look of impatience as you pray for him to finally shut up.

you genuinely seem content in sitting here and letting satoru talk your ears off. like you’re enjoying it. and satoru is giddy at this realization, this epiphany that someone actually, truly enjoys his company. he thinks it feels…

it feels nice.

🩵: @anthoosies @staryukis @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @gigiiiiislife @domainexpansionmypants @starlightanyaaa @satoruxsc @cinnamoneve @lxnarphase @hellkaiserinphoenix @sherb3t @jianyuu4mii @xinfvl @blindbabycadder @kisstoru @the-monster-under-the-bed @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie

[parkerluvsu]

can u write something about art and reader having high sex 😛😛😛🙏🏻🙏🏻 like idk just like a chill night at the dorm at stanford or something where they smoke a couple blunts and grind on each other idk!!!!!!!!!!!

MOONLIGHT (art donaldson x fem! reader)

sometimes you felt like a bad influence on art.. he wouldn't let anything that wasn't on his pre-planned diet touch his lips before he met you. but from the first puff of your joint under the bleachers of the tennis court, he was hooked. not just on the woozy feeling he got when he took too long of a hit, but on the feeling of having you around him.

the more you two hung out, the more art associated the feeling of his head in the clouds, not with the large puffs of smoke drifting around his room, but you the feeling of you sitting next to him, your legs draped over his. art feels guilty, if he got caught, he'd absolutely get thrown out of the tennis program, and probably never be able to attend a good school again, but on the other hand.. your sweet giggles as you blow smoke into his face gave made him forget all the consequences if he got caught.

the problem with you (and it's not even really a problem to art.. he thinks you're perfect) is you like things casual. sure you've made out with art in a haze of smoke, maybe grinded a bit over his jeans in the back of his overly clean jeep, and he can't even count the times that you've texted him "you up?" at 2am, but he's never been your "boyfriend".

art knows it would be hard to have a serious conversation with you without the guise of just coming over to smoke, so he shoots you a text.

art: hey can i come over? need to relax :)

the buzz of your phone from the desk beside you steals your attention from your math homework, a welcome distraction. you text him back quickly, eager to have an excuse to smoke.

an eager knock on your door comes only minutes later, arts face a mixture of nerves and excitement, like a kid sneaking candy from their parents. art looks as cute as ever in his wrinkled stanford shirt and his checkered shorts, hair tussled from a night at practice. "cmon in artie" his cheeks blush at the nickname as he enters your dorm, making himself comfortable in the cozy chair in the corner. you pull out the box of paraphernalia from under your bed, flower stickers peeling off of the box from overuse. you tilt your head to the side, looking at arts body language, his constant shifting telling you he's trying to seem calm but he really isn't. "what do you wanna smoke?" you ask him, knowing what his answer will be before he even opens his mouth, "whatever you want".

that seems to be arts answer for anything, "whatever you want", sometimes you think if you walked off the edge of a cliff he'd do the same. art was one of those people who followed everything you did, the way you sat, the way you talked, and even your vocabulary, he would shift to be more similar to you. even when he smoked for the very first time, he watched you inhale so deep and hold it in before blowing a large cloud of smoke into the air, he tried to do the same.. but ended up greening out and throwing up in the trashcan next to the tennis courts. the truth is, art would do that all over again if it meant even one more second with you, and he knew it was clingy and definitely too dependent for the casual situation you were in.. but he can't help himself.

me: sure, come over anytime

art is a lightweight in every sense of the word, whenever Patrick would take him to a frat party to get totally wasted, all it took was one red solo cup full of beer to have art stumbling over his own feet. It was the same with weed, it only took one hit for art to start slurring his words, his body pretty much melting into any surface near him. currently, it's the cozy chair in the corner of your room, but you can see his eyes drifting towards the cozy blankets on you bed. "art, you know you can go sit on my bed right?" his eyes widen and he shuffles over, flopping down on the bed in such a way that would make sober-him flush with embarrassment. you giggle as he wraps himself in the blankets, his head lolling onto the pillow. art blearily watches you come sit on the bed too, leaning against the wall for support. the sight of him tangled up in your blankets reminds you of previous late nights spent together, causing a flutter in your stomach that you're a little ashamed of. art leans over to give you the joint back, your fingers brushing together softly. "y'know you look super pretty right now" art says, "n-not that you don't always look pretty but like.. right now especially" he revises his statement, he's always such a people pleaser. you laugh, taking a long hit from the joint before giving him a wide smile. "thanks artie, you're pretty too" you reply, knowing he likes being called pretty, even though he'd absolutely never say it, the way his ears go red gives him away every time.

as the night goes on, and your shared joint turns into a stub, you find yourself closer to art than you thought you were, your sides pressed up against each other as you lay on your backs, staring up at your ceiling. the boring white paint suddenly seeming very interesting until you felt movement beside you, art was tuning on his side and leaning his face on his hand. you blink, "what are you looking at?" glancing at arts eyes that were fixed on your face. "you" art says simply, causing you to shake your head and laugh. "i know that art.. but why?" you ask, pressing for an answer from him. "dunno.. just your face is nice" he says, his face dropping into your shoulder. arts breath was hot against your neck, making you almost want to pull away, but you'd never do that, enjoying the weight of him against you. arts breathing rate increases against your neck and you wonder why until you feel a pressure against your thigh. "art.." he hums in response, only focused on the small sharp movements of his hips. you know how quickly he shifts from being all innocent and sweet to taking what he needs.

you're such a sucker for art, especially when he's high and he can't hide his feelings like he usually does. you shift your leg to the side to help him, inciting an immediate response of his eyes fluttering shut against your shoulder, his eyelashes tickling you gently. the position that you maneuvered into allowed arts leg to slot between yours as well, letting you slowly rock your hips against his leg, the feeling of his bare skin only making you feel more pleasure. before you know it, art is pressing hot kisses into your neck and your arms are wrapped loosely around his neck. "mmmmmfuck" art groans against your neck, even though he's feeling less woozy than earlier, he's still sensitive, just the feeling of grinding against you having him teetering on the edge. suddenly, you feel his hips stutter and a dampness cover the front of his shorts. art holds his breath for a second before his whole body goes limp against you, his fingers not clenching the sheets anymore.

a comfortable silence falls between you, before art breaks it with his soft voice. "can we go again? 'm sorry i just.. i need you" he whines out, still not showing his face. you giggle softly and nod, lifting up your hips to pull off your pajama pants and panties, art doing the same with his shorts and boxers. "how do you want me?" you ask, sending a flutter of butterflies into arts stomach because of the sense of control you're giving him. art thinks for a second, "can you turn around..? please" he asks, a bit of hesitancy in his voice. you nod, turning to face the wall next to your bed, your back facing art. his gentle hands maneuver your legs into a position that's easy for him to slip into you. he does so slowly, more for your sake than his, he thinks if he pushed inside of you too fast he would surely cum prematurely (not like it hasn't happened before).

you feel art shiver against you, his hips pausing when he enters your fully, his balls resting snugly against your ass. art could truly stay like this forever, if he had the patience and resolve.. but he doesn't, his hips snap into yours quickly, the overstimulation getting to him. he wraps his arms around your stomach, holding you close to him, his head yet again smushed into the crook of your neck. every thrust he gives you feels like it's punching the air out of you, art isn't even pulling all the way out anymore, just humping his hips into you the best he can. even in his delicate headspace, art still wants to please you first, his fingers making their way down your stomach before rubbing messily at your clit, his fingers catching on your nub every few circles, causing you to tighten up around him. art is close, you can always tell by how his voice shifts from more coherent to just straight up blabbering, "mgh.. god.. 's so warm.. you're so warm.." "it feels s' good.. it's feels good to you too right?" "gotta be closer to you.. wan' be closer to you" but you snap to attention when he moans against you, "please be m' girlfriend please.. i wan' you to be mine.." you're sure art has no idea what he's saying until he repeats himself, almost sounding like he's about to cry. you nod quickly, "y-yeah artie okay.. ill be your girlfriend.." now you swear he actually sobs, his hips making one last deep thrust before you feel him fill you up, the sensation sending you over the edge right after him.

art stays inside of you for a minute, dating his breath before pulling out, grabbing a tissue and helping you clean up. when you open your eyes, arts looking up at you with his signature puppy dog eyes. "um.. did you mean what you said?" he asks quietly, his head bowing down quickly, as if he didn't want to see your reaction. you think back to your agreement, sure it was in the heat of the moment, but would it really be such a bad idea to say yes? you pause, and arts head droops even lower, expecting the worst. "art you know ive purposely been keeping this casual.. but i.. i trust you now artie, i do want this to be serious" you reach out for his hand, squeezing it gently. arts face lights up like a kid getting the one present they wanted for christmas as he quickly hugs you. "thank you.. thanks, you won't regret it i swear" you smile, pulling the blankets over the both of you, snuggling into arts chest as you admire the beautiful rays of moonlight streaming into your bedroom.

art is easily entranced by the quick movements of your fingers as you roll a joint, it sounds silly but he's always admired the fact that you didn't buy pre-rolls, preferring to be more independent. you lick the paper to get it to stick shut (and art is grateful you were too focused on that to see the way his eyes widened when you did) and root around your drawer for your lighter, a stupid pink one decorated with hello kitty that you got for your birthday. art couldn't help but find it endearing, the way you were so independent and "too cool" for a real relationship, but you still kept all the things that people gave to you, even if they weren't to your taste. the click of your lighter snapped art out of his observations, the light from the tiny flame illuminating your face in a way that made art want to take a picture, the fluttering flame casting an orange glow onto your skin. the strong smell of the joint caused art to become a little lightheaded even though he hasn’t even taken a hit yet, his fingers grabbing the joint from you after a couple failed tries that make you laugh, the soft giggles a soundtrack for the night.

[skyahri]

And Suddenly |JJK Men X Reader| HC

Characters: Sukuna Ryomen, Gojo Satoru, and Geto Suguru

Summary: They proposition you for a baby.

Warnings: Cult Leader!Geto, Heian Era!Sukuna, Canon Gojo. A little smutty, but nothing specific.

- - - - -

Ryomen Sukuna

Sukuna swears he doesn't play favorites.

He always gives the same response when prompted by Uraume- that he hated everyone equally and that if anything, they were the only person he could tolerate. That specific line of questioning always riled him up, oftentimes making him irrationally angry and defensive.

Despite what he says, everyone on the estate knows he's full of shit. No one else is dumb enough to call him on it out of fear of being brutally murdered, but it's clear he does have a favorite. That fact is only further cemented when he approaches you in the middle of the garden and publicly demands that you give him a child.

"... what?"

"Are you deaf? I need an heir and you're going to give me one. Let's go."

Just like that, you're being slung over his shoulder and carried off. You only manage a peak at Uraume before the door closes, but even they seem surprised by the sudden declaration.

When you finally reach his chambers, he sets you down on his bed and drops his robes to the floor. When you don't move to do the same, he shoots you an impatient look, but you only offer him a confused one back.

"My Lord, I apologize if this is out of line, but what brought this on?"

"I want an heir."

"Yes, but why now? And why me?"

"Are you denying me, woman?"

"No, of course not, My Lord, I'm just- this is all very sudden."

After the initial spark of anger that flashes through him, he does genuinely think about it for a moment. Requesting a baby was quite the ask, and it would be in his best interest to keep you happy. Perhaps he could at the very least answer your questions...

"You are fertile."

"Is that really the only requirement you look for when considering the potential mother of your children?"

"Of course not."

He hates that little look you give him. It's pointed in a way that makes his nerves flair. It's not direct enough for him to ever call you on, but it screams defiance nonetheless.

"I don't have to explain myself to you. You should feel honored to have been chosen. Be grateful, brat."

Your face doesn't change. You only cross your arms and wait for his little tantrum to pass in hopes that he'll be a more willing participant in the conversation.

"What do you want from me?"

"Honesty, My Lord. That's all."

He bares his teeth at you. It's an empty threat- that much you learned long ago. You're well aware of his soft spot for you, and while you typically don't use that against him, you really did just want answers.

In the three years you'd served him, he had never once mentioned wanting children. He'd go as far as to kill any concubine who fell pregnant or even brought the topic up. Something was most definitely amiss, and you weren't one to cave into his ridiculous demands so easily.

After a momentary standoff, he sighs and stands a bit straighter in front of you.

"You are well aware why I have chosen you."

"Am I?"

Oh, if looks could kill you'd be six feet under already. He seems almost... embarrassed? It's not something you've ever seen on him, the red tint to his cheeks and ears are undeniably different from when he's angry. His lower right hand twitches ever so slightly and you can nearly hear his teeth grinding together.

"It is possible, that I may not entirely hate you."

"Careful, My Lord, that almost sounds like a confession."

"If that is what it takes for you to agree, then so be it."

You won't get anything more out of him, at least, not today. You'd been fully expecting him to choose an easy way out, something about biology or hierarchy or whatever, but this? No, this was a thousand times better than anything you could've imagined.

"Now, as to why, My Lord?"

"Is it really so surprising to want a child with you?"

You... don't know how to answer that. His response both does and does not answer your question. You were initially looking for something more, concrete? Something like him needing a successor or maybe needing to prove himself in some way.

Whether he intended to or not, he had given you a very intimate response that you were not in the last bit prepared for.

You were very aware that he treated you differently, not just from the other concubines, but from everyone in general. You had certain privileges that others did not, like joining him for dinners and baths or sleeping in his chambers. He indulges you with little acts of affection, things like kissing and brief touches. You spoke out of turn without consequence and could get away with doing things without his explicit permission.

But all of that was a whole Hell of a lot different than wanting a family. The man would sooner die than admit to liking you, but here he was admitting to wanting children with you. Not wanting an heir, not allowing you the privilege, no- wanting children with you.

"I accept."

"You say that as if you had a choice."

"We're alone, My Lord, there's no need for the tough guy facade."

"It's not a facade. Don't forget I can kill you, woman."

"Mhm, if you say so, My Lord."

Satoru Gojo

"You know,"

He slowly slides his hands up your sides, slipping them underneath the hem of your shirt.

"With the kids being so busy nowadays, I can't help but feel like our nest is a little empty."

He moves his head from its resting position on your head to trail kisses down your face. He pauses at your lips for a moment before continuing down your neck.

"Lucky for us, I know just the thing to fix such a problem."

You're only half paying mind to the attention he's giving you, the majority of your thoughts running over his recent behavior, trying to piece together anything that could've prepared you for the current situation.

He was a little upset when Tsumiki had gone full swing into high school last year. She had lots of friends, joined a few extracurriculars, and took her classes seriously. It didn't leave her much free time for family. You understood, and so did Satoru (albeit reluctantly), but that didn't make it any less bittersweet.

With the new school year starting, Megumi had begun drifting as well, and it didn't help that he was living on campus now. Of course, Satoru was one of his mentors, but that only meant their time together was spent working.

Both kids had always been independent, most likely a side effect of their shitty unconventional upbringing, but it seemed time was only making that fact more apparent.

You'd noticed he'd been a little deflated lately, but you'd chalked it up to extra stress from the council. You never thought it would be over something like this- not that you doubted how much he loved his pseudo-family or anything, he's just never shown any particular interest in expanding at all.

Even now, aside from a few stray comments about missing the kids and prioritizing family dinners, nothing he did really popped out.

"Satoru-"

He pulled away and took your hands in his, bending down a bit to make the height difference less obvious.

"Just hear me out,"

He swallowed hard and squeezed your hands a bit tighter.

"I know it's not something we've really talked about, but I can't stop thinking about it. I love raising kids with you and I don't want it to end."

"Babies and toddlers are a lot different than kids, Satoru."

"I know."

"It's a lot of work. We'd be starting over just as they've become self sufficient."

"I know."

"There's also significant risk associated with having Satoru Gojo's biological baby."

"All the reason to work harder."

Usually, when he wants something, he gives you this sappy, wide eyed, puppy dog stare and tries to bargain wit you. This, however, is starkly different. His gaze is intense, like he's peering straight into your soul, but it's also desperate, like he wants you to say yes but for once in his life, he's not going to pressure you.

Not that he'd have to, honestly.

He's right. You have enjoyed raising kids with him. He's dorky and definitely on the irresponsible side, but he cares for Tsumiki and Megs more than anything else in the world. He'd take them to the park, engage in whatever board games they wanted to play, and always did his best to make it to school events. He's a good dad, and you aren't eager to see the end of the peak quite yet.

The house is also very quiet as of late. There's no bickering, no loud music, and no one pestering you to make snacks. There's no more homework to help out with and no more rides to give. It's rather lonely.

So you put on your best poker face, just to spook him a bit, and focus your gaze on his pretty blue eyes. He looks hopeful. He knows you well enough by now to know you're going to say yes, but that little bit of fear overshadows any certainty he has.

"I think, maybe, possibly, that our family doesn't quite feel complete just yet, and might have room for one more."

That's all the confirmation he needs before he's scooping you up, pressing sloppy kisses against any surface of your skin he can reach, and taking you straight into your shared bedroom.

Suguru Geto

He had truly never thought about the prospect of having kids before. He was seventeen when he took in the twins and life had been pretty hectic since then, not leaving much room for additional personal affairs.

But he couldn't get the girls' words out of his head.

They'd come home from school last week and told him about one of their classmates who had just received a baby brother. He wasn't sure if they knew the scope of what they were asking when they started begging for a little sibling, but it did get him thinking. So he told them he'd consider the idea and sent them off to do their homework.

He wasn't... completely against the idea. He's at a point where he has the means to provide for one more. He loves Nanako and Mimiko more than anything and he's sure he can love another kid all the same, but that wasn't the issue.

It was having another kid that was difficult. He'd essentially kidnapped the twins, and while the deed was justified, he wasn't eager to do it again. Anything formal was off the table, being a mass murderer slash cult leader, and all.

That's when you entered his field of vision. Like an answer to his prayers, you walked past him with a bright smile on your face and a quick 'Good morning Geto-sama' before running off to wherever the girls currently were.

The answer seemed a bit too obvious. You'd joined not too long after he'd taken over, offering support in any way you could. At the time, he was having a hard time adjusting to everything. Raising children was a lot harder than he'd anticipated, mostly due to the trauma they'd endured. You took some of the load off of him. You watched them while he was in meetings, cooked them meals, and made sure they got to and from school when he couldn't.

You're around his age, smart and pretty, and essentially already a mother to his kids. You loved them as much as he did, so surely, you'd be more than happy to help him out with this, right?

"You... want me to give you a baby?"

He wasn't sure what to make of that response. It was ambiguous, and your blank expression didn't lean any one way the other.

"Yes. Nanako and Mimiko would like a sibling, and I've decided to indulge them. Would you be so kind as to help me?"

"I'm not pregnant, Geto-sama."

"I'd hope not."

Your confusion only grew. There was no precursor to this conversation. Just yesterday you were discussing the week's itinerary and what all was expected of you. He hadn't looked at you any differently, hadn't dropped any hints, or asked any strange questions. This was truly out of the blue.

You must've taken too long to continue the conversation because there's suddenly a hand grabbing yours. It's warm and rough, and despite the newness of it, it's grounding.

"Please don't feel pressured to say yes. I'd like an honest answer. This will only work if both parties are consenting."

You hesitate for a moment. It's not like you haven't thought about it before. Not this specifically, but being more of a permanent fixture in Geto household. It's usually a fleeting feeling, a fantasy of sorts. You'd never allowed yourself to mull over it, assuming that it was a lost cause.

"Why me?"

A perfectly reasonable question.

"You're already a mother to my children, what's one more, hm?"

"And this baby..."

"Would be ours, if you're willing if course."

Suguru is actually pleased by your hesitation. A fair number of his followers would jump at the invitation without much thought. He finds it rather pathetic that some would follow him so blindly, so your reluctance only further cements his confidence in his decision.

"And what would all of this mean for me?"

"I suppose you'd be a wife of sorts. 'Nanny' seems a little degrading for someone bearing my child."

He laughs and it immediately cuts through any tension in the air.

While the offer is certainly jarring, denying it had yet to cross your mind. Geto is a harsh leader, sure, but he's incredibly kind to those close to him, and that extends to you. He's a great dad and loves his children, and you're sure any baby of yours would meet the same fate.

"Yeah, okay."

"Good. Why don't you meet me in my quarters after you put the girls to bed."

[todoriin]

adore me, hold me and explore me | moze x afab!reader

18+ NSFW, MDNI or i will delete your account, vanilla ass sex, no established relationship, obsessive themes from moze, cunnilingus, p in v, porn no plot

Being Feixiao’s closest advisor means you get to experience various interesting interactions.

Since joining her ranks, you feel as though you’ve lived through countless lifetimes, consulting and strategising with her and Jiaoqiu against formidable foes and expansive armies. You’ve seen the Merlin’s Claw swing her blade and slash countless enemies in half, learnt medicinal techniques from Jiaoqiu that may cure simple illnesses, like the common cold. 

However, the most interesting soul, without a double, is a certain Shadow Guard of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, one you have the pleasure of working with most intimately. Figuratively and… literally.

There’s a creak coming from the windows of your bedroom, the hinges wincing softly as they’re pushed open gently but too wide to be an action of the wind. At this stage, you’re no longer surprised by the stealthiness of the intruder, after all, you had purposefully left the windows open, waiting for the moment an intruder who could coat himself with invisibility would show up. 

Besides, it’s nearing dusk, he promised he’d visit then. 

“Good evening, Moze,” you greet, back turned to him as you look in the mirror, swiping balm over your lips before puckering them. 

A breath of satisfaction leaves you when he finally materialises before you, purple haze clouding out around his silhouette, revealing the usual, skin-tight attire he opts for daily. It’s a shade you’ve grown to love now, seeing it everyday (and taking it off for him a few times a week).

“You look nice,” he comments, words curt but sweet. 

You omit to tell him that you didn’t doll up because you doubt he’ll live longer with that information. “Thank you,” is all you say, smiling up at his reflection. Then, a cold hand comes up to your neck, fingers resting over your pulse as he traces your skin, eventually snaking back to fix your hair.

“The lipstick you wore today also looked nice,” he mumbles, meeting your gaze with his piercing one. 

You turn around in your vanity stool, swinging your legs over to the other side of the seat as you look up at him. His hands move up slightly to cup your jaw, indiscernible eyes gently admiring your features as you look up at him. Here, in your home, he can unwind, a skilled assassin let in to a haven too safe for him and the blood on his hands.

That’s why you’re perfect for him, because you know how to slice a man’s neck and leave him begging for more.

“Did you like it, Moze?”

He’s silent as ever, opting to just play with the strands of your hair. There are moments when Moze is silent because he does not wish to speak, but there are always thoughts circulating in that head of his, you realised that a year into the job when he started providing a sarcastic retort whenever he could. This time he’s silent because he doesn’t know how to respond, rendered speechless as you blink up at him. 

It’s an honour to render a man like him speechless, but you still want to have your fun.

“So quiet, I’ll take it as a no?” You ask, rising from your chair and walking past him. An arm snakes itself around your waist before you could get too far, tugging you right back against the chest of the Shadow Guard. “Use your words, Moze.”

“There are no words worthy enough to describe your beauty.”

Your mouth drops slightly as a sudden shyness creeps up your expression, an uncontrollable smile that you can’t hide behind your hands tugging on your lips. “Smooth talker,” you retort, pushing his chest lightly, but he hardly budges. 

You’re used to being the one to initiate all the conversations, as well as ending them.

“The day must have been treacherous. I’ll make some refreshments for you.”

Just as you turn to go downstairs, he’s once again tugging you back against him. This time, he leads you to the edge of the bed where he sits down with you standing between his legs, now a head shorter than you. Your positions have switched, now it is you running your fingers along the hood he keeps on his head, looking down into his multi-coloured eyes.

“No need for any of those,” he denies, “I am well.”

“Are you sure? No tea, snacks?”

“I have no desire for any of those, only you.”

You look away from him, bashful from his flirtatious words that he says in that serious tone of his. Seriously, how can he say that with a straight face?

“Okay, fine. You can have me,” you mutter and a phantom of a smile appears on his expression, eyes glimmering when you finally give him the indication he’s been waiting for. The thin strap of your top is being dragged down your shoulder and you shudder when he hovers a ghost of a kiss over your pulse point, getting flustered when you then feel him smile against your skin. “Please don’t tease.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” in an instant, your chest is bared to him and his hands creep up to explore the expanse of your body, touch gentle but purposeful, as if he was sculpting your curves himself, careful not to ruin you with any rogue or unwelcome grazes. “I’ll reap what’s mine.”

Then, he yanks your shorts off and cups the back of your thighs. A yelp leaves your lips when he suddenly switches you around so that you are now sat on the edge of the bed, and he, awaiting on his knees before you with hungry eyes.

There’s no time to think because all of a sudden, his mouth is on you, infiltrating your most sensitive part and the whimper that leaves you cannot be held back. You don’t know when your leg got on his shoulder, but it grants him more access as his tongue licks up a slow, torturous swipe up your entrance. 

“Moze!” You exclaim, legs twitching as if trying to kick him away, but he immediately holds you down you, an arm wrapping around your thigh to keep you there. 

You’re his target after all, he won’t stop until he’s through with you.

“Be good and take it,” he says against you, pressing a kiss to your clit before sucking and you gulp at the sensation as filthy sounds fill the atmosphere. No matter how many close nights you’ve experienced together, you’ll never get sick of him, grip inhumanely tight to keep you still as you beg for mercy, but the feeling of his mouth is too sweet to push away. The apex of his tongue circles the nub as his spare hand crawls up, collecting the slick from your entrance before two fingers intrude, breaching your walls. 

When he curls them, you know you’re done for, falling against the mattress to try and deal with the onslaught of pleasure that Moze knows how to inflict. It keeps coming in waves and waves, and neither his fingers or tongue lets up. You didn’t even realise you were crying until you felt tears drop down your face and onto the sheets. 

He’s pumping into you, briefly curling and scissoring his fingers, and his ministrations on your clit go from suckling to tracing shapes with the bud; a cruel torture that eventually results in a buildup of tension in your lower abdomen. 

You warn him about your incoming orgasm with a shrill cry of his name and a babble of words that loosely resembles a sentence, and the only thing he says in response is:

“Let go, pretty.”

So you do, mind becoming cloudy, hazed with nothing but the feeling of pleasure. Moze has now swapped his mouth and fingers, tongue lapping up everything you give him, licking you clean whilst his thumb rubs your clit in circles, trying to prod more out of you; a routine choreographed for your demise.

“Perfect,” he murmurs against your core, letting you come down from the high as he presses a few kisses up your stomach. 

His hawkish eyes watches as your expression untwists itself, no longer contorted by overwhelming pleasure. He can’t help the way his gaze then drifts to your chest, how it rises and falls hurriedly, still trying to regain your breath after he stole it. 

Your reverie is interrupted when you feel his tongue licking your entrance once again, folds pulled back by his fingers to bare more of you, and your nerves flinch at the sensation of pleasure enhanced to the maximum. “Moze! Stop!”

He obeys, pulling away immediately, serious expression unchanged save for the little glimmer of disappointment in his eyes.

“Next time,” he gruffly promises. 

Wrapping both of your thighs around his waist, you’re maneuvred further up your mattress by the assassin, completely helpless in his grip as he moves you however he wants. You would not have wanted him to stop anyways. 

Nimble hands shed his clothes and you unabashedly admire the sight between your legs, eyes so brave to wander across a scarred body that none others will get to lay their eyes upon. You trace the curve of his defined torso, how the shadows and light dance along the crevices, enhancing his already-impressive muscles. You leisurely run your gaze further down, following his abs to his cock.

Red and leaking with precum. 

It was intimidating when you first came face-to-face with it, and whilst you’re still impressed by his size, he’s taken care of you through the process every time, walking you through the pain and adaptations whilst being completely patient with you.

You want to prepare and take care of him like he had with you, so without thinking, you reach out and begin stroking him exactly how he likes it and a grunt passes by his lips, composure faltering ever so slightly.

There is no other Moze would bare himself like this to and, as a sign of his own twisted desires, he wants you to think the same of him. He wants you in ways he cannot justify, especially the part of himself that drips with violent and obsessive tendencies.

Should he get too close, he fears he will devour you when neither of you are expecting it.

Although, recently it seems that Moze allows himself to indulge in pleasures that he hadn’t permitted before, and as his hand wraps around your wrist to stop your ministrations, he can’t help but smile at the small pout that graces your lips. Rubbing his erection along your cunt, your slick coats his underside whilst his hand leisurely travels around your torso. Your supple skin hasn’t seen the severities of the battlefield, hasn’t fought and handled the brutality of men and blades like he has; the distinction between the two of you almost makes him seem like a monster.

A monster who wants to hide you from the darkness in which he lives in. 

“What are you grinning at?” You ask from under him.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, lowering his face to yours to press delicate kisses on your skin and you shift impatiently, eyelashes fluttering and hands clenching into fists. 

He notices the subtle action, takes it as sign of desperation that he wants to devour and dissolve into his veins, as if keeping a part of you with him forever. Aligning his cockhead with your entrance, your moan is unrestrained when he finally breaches your walls.

Slowly, Moze bottoms out, hands holding your hips to press you flush against him as you squirm. He doesn’t mind the way you wriggle around trying to adjust to his thickness and length, he’ll patiently hover above you, pressing soothing kisses along your face whilst staying as still as a shadow.

Even as your walls twitch and clench, he doesn’t budge, refusing to move until you are ready for him to. In a way, being connected with you like this makes him feel closer to you, and it brings a sense of peace that he cannot find elsewhere.

You are the source of it, the centrepiece of all his desires and he cannot swallow you down anymore. 

“I’m okay now,” you whimper.

He reels his hips back, almost pulling out before slamming right back into you and you cry loudly. “You sure?”

“More, Moze, please don’t be cruel to me.”

Cruel? He wouldn’t dream of it.

Setting a bearable pace, the room is filled with a cacophony of moans and continuous ‘plap, plap, plap’s of skin meeting skin. You are still the centre of his vision, eyes hardly straying away from your expression and body, keenly watching every microreaction of yours. He notices the way you shut your eyes tighter when he angles a particular way, cock breaching the most sensitive but pleasurable parts of you. 

It’s insatiable, his appetite for you. The only thing he wants to do is bring you to endless highs, over, and over, and over again.

Gradually, his pace speeds up over time, violating your insides with the neverending push-and-pull. Every time his hips snap back to meet yours, cock buried to the hilt, you feel the strands of your sanity slipping away. All you can do is babble his name and whimpers of how good he feels, hands reaching blindly for any part of him that you can hold.

He dives right into your open touch, torso leaning down to now hover directly over yours and the added heat of his body temperature makes you feel even more lucid. His shoulders are so broad, the planes of his chest defined, and stomach so toned that it drives you insane with desire; added with his precise strokes and thick cock, you don’t ever want him to leave. You don’t ever want him to stop. 

“Moze-” his lips are pressed against yours, swallowing the moan of his name and every other small noise you make as his member relentlessly spears you. 

He kisses you again and again, never straying too far, but parting often to let you catch your breath. 

“Moze, I’m-” you cry out in between kisses, “I’m gonna-!”

“Me too,” he gruffly responds, “relax for me, you’re clenching too hard.”

His words have the opposite effect because next thing you know, you’re cumming again, spasming around his cock as his strokes try to lure more out of you, draining you for all you’re worth. When you’re done, all of your nerves are fried, limbs weak and unable to hold themselves up for long without any support, but Moze hasn’t come yet, so all you can do is take his desperate and hurried strokes as he catches up to the last bit of pleasure.

Then, he comes to a halt whilst hot ropes gush into your cunt as he twitches inside you. Suddenly, his teeth latch on to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark. 

You catch your breath in unison, waiting for him to finish completely before moving again, and when the final load is emptied, he’s capturing your lips in a kiss again. It’s hot, and your muscles feel like jelly, but he’s still desperate for more of you despite being as humanly close as possible. 

So, only moments after both of you have descended from the peak, he begins moving again, gently shushing any of your protests with a light kiss that breaks down your already weak defences. 

The squelches and plaps this time are obscene as he slowly eases in and out of you, grinding weakly whenever your walls twitch around him, but none of it is enough to quell his desire.

And he won’t stop until he has his fill. 

© todoriin 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site

[daydreamerwoah]

Family Tree (Chapter 2)

Adding on to the next story I want to work on :)

Simon x Y/n <3

Taskforce 141 had just gotten back from their usual mission in Al Mazrah. The guys were exhausted but satisfied with the outcome of successfully taking down another terrorist that had stormed the area. Kate Laswell had just finished debriefing the team on everything when Kyle "Gaz" Garrick asked if they wanted to grab drinks with him and his girlfriend. She was getting off work soon and was very much excited that he was back safe - a slight celebration, what she called it. John "Soap" MacTavish immediately agreed because he wasn't about to turn down an offer for a good Scotch. And while John Price would have just gone home and had a cigar before heading to bed, he decided to go as well. 

All that was left was Simon "Ghost" Riley. The mysterious man who liked to be alone... most of the time. But he'd never turn down a chance to get a bourbon. It took a bit of convincing from Soap - Johnny as he usually called him - to get him to tag along, but he finally gave in. A short huff - that was muffled by his balaclava - falling from his mouth as he shook his head at the sergeant's antics. 

Their usual spot was a pub that was on the other side of town. The locals usually cramped the space, but sometimes, a few soldiers from the base would make the drive to grab a drink and some food. Every once in a while, the owner - an older man who was probably in his 70s, would conversate with the team, having been in the SAS many years ago himself. He'd tell stories about his time in war and service, often making people smile or laugh with his jokes that went along with them. It also wouldn't be as busy as it was with the other pubs that were closer to the base or in the center of town; it was also close enough to each of their homes as well. 

"Baby!" a woman's voice somewhat shouted throughout the bar as Ella pranced in the place and hugged Kyle tightly as soon as she greeted him. She was usually a calm person, but whenever she hadn't heard from her boyfriend in over two weeks, she'd always worry. But there he was with his boys, alive and well; tired but well. 

As they settled into their seats and their drink of choice was brought to them, a weight felt like it was lifted off of their soldiers. They were finally able to relax after spending two weeks fighting, shooting, and sleeping on the fucking ground. 

"How's work, Ella?" Price asked after taking a sip. 

"It's good. Have a new girl that started two weeks ago. She's nice.. quiet, but nice," she giggled. 

"So, like L.T., huh?" Johnny teased, making the others laugh. Even somewhat of a chuckle escaped Simon's lips, although it was muffled by the balaclava. 

Everyone knew that Ghost was a quiet man; an intimidating man. If anyone ever got a chance to even be in his presence for more than a minute, they'd say he was a grumpy ass human being, rarely talked, always gave an answer with a hum or a curt nod, and probably was a real ghost since no one had really ever seen his face before. But those who knew Simon well (which was really just 141) would say he was someone who had gone through a lot of shit in his past, he had a good heart and supported his team, and he had incredibly dark humor. Sometimes, making them indulge in one of his awful dad jokes. 

So it was truly was funny that Johnny made the joke about Ella's coworker being like him; quiet. He even knew that he really was. 

"She just moved here from America cause of family. I tried to get her to come have a drink, but she said she had something to do," Ella said, "Maybe next time you guys can meet her."

They all hummed and continued sipping on their drinks, letting the thoughts of the mission slip further and further away from their minds until they had to think about it at a later time. Ella talked about a few things about work, which was always good for them to listen... at least they didn't have to talk about their own work.

**************************************************************************

When Simon made it home, the first thing he did was unpack his duffle bag with his gear in it. From the hard-shell skull mask he wore to his toothbrush, everything was put back in its place before he stripped out of his clothes and turned the water on in the shower. While it needed time to at least get warm, he glanced at his body in the bathroom mirror. The dark purple bruises that covered his left shoulder and the side of his abs made his pale skin look odd. Well, it was definitely odd to anyone else, but for him, he was used to coming back home with cuts and bruises all the time. No bullet at least, he thought, remembering the last time he came home with bandages on the same shoulder from when he caught a stray bullet on the last mission. Being what he was - who he was - came at the cost of injuries and pain. He was lucky that death hadn't caught up to him since the last time he thought he was going to die years ago. But it was the life he chose.

No. It was the life that chose him. 

Sighing, he stepped into the shower, allowing the warm water from the shower to encase all over his head, face, and body. It was... peaceful in a way. The only time he ever got to really think about anything in his life was the time he would take a shower after coming back from a mission. Each second he washed the grime and dirt off of his body with the wood-scented soap, he thought about his past. He thought about his family - or the lack thereof. Family. A touchy subject that he tended to stay away from. Hardly anyone knew about what happened to them; their deaths. And he kept it that way. It wasn't because of doing what he did after he found their bodies... it was just something that he had no desire to even bring up... with anyone. 

After his shower, he could have gone to bed, but sleep was never easy for the man. Once he dried off and put on some sweatpants to cover his lower half, he walked outside on his patio and sat in the chair. He tossed a pack of cigarettes and a lighter on the small table that he brought out with him before leaning back in the chair and gazing up at the sky. It was a clear, cool, and breezy night. He should have put on a jacket, but for some reason, the temperature didn't faze him. If he squinted just right enough, he thought he could see the stars that shone through the streetlights in the town. It was peaceful, silent, and lonely. But he didn't complain. He liked being alone. There were times when he couldn't understand how Kyle and Ella had been together for as long as they had. Through the tough missions and long deployments, he thought she would have left him a long time ago. But it wasn't like he could really understand either... he had never been in a real relationship before. Choosing to have one night stands - usually while he was on leave - was something he had grown accustomed to. Especially because it didn't muddle things up. No feelings were attached, and he didn't have to worry about seeing the girl again. 

Pulling out a cigarette from the packet, Simon stuck it between his lips and grabbed the lighter, flicking it to light the cig. The nicotine engulfed his lungs immediately as he inhaled, enjoying the feeling of it going straight to his brain. He knew smoking was a bad habit, but it was one he had yet to even attempt to try and break. Between the stress of missions and being a Lieutenant, the only outlet he had outside of work was a cigarette in his mouth with a glass of bourbon in his hand. Sometimes, he'd watch a football game or rugby match, or he'd listen to his collection of music on the turntable he bought from an old man who was getting rid of some junk. But tonight, he just welcomed the quietness of the air, smoking his cigarette until he finished it. It was going to be a challenge, but he eventually made his way to bed, laying down as he stared up at the ceiling. By some miracle, after an hour, rest seemed to fall over him as he closed his eyes and drifted off into a dreamless but deep sleep. 

The next morning, he was refreshed. His morning cup of tea bringing him back to life a little more as he cooked breakfast for himself. It was nothing special, just bacon and eggs, but it was enough for him. And once he finished eating, he showered and got dressed before heading out to buy groceries. He'd be home for at least the next two months, so stocking up the pantry was better than eating out every single day, even if he could afford it. 

He decided to stop in the cafe that was close to his home to pick up another tea to take while he shopped. He enjoyed their take on the simple tea he usually made at home, so he thought, why not? When he stepped inside, the place was somewhat busy, but no one was standing in line, which was great; he could get his drink and leave. But there was one thing that caught his attention. The flustered and in a hurry woman who was shifting her weight on her feet as she waited for her drink to be called out. 

You. 

As always, you were in a hurry to get to work. Flustered because once again you forgot your umbrella. You slightly cursed the invisible weatherman that seemed to have told you it wouldn't rain today just because last night it was clear. Simon was somewhat surprised to see you again, not that he was purposely looking for you, but there definitely was an awkward interaction the last time he saw you. You basically walked backward into him, stepping on his boot by accident. But god, that soft smile you gave him made his eyebrows draw together a bit. Hardly anyone smiled at him the way you did.. mostly out of embarrassment, but he didn't need to know that. 

When he walked up to the cashier, he could have sworn he felt a gaze on him. Your gaze. And once he placed his order and paid, he turned around, confirming his suspicion that you had been staring at him. Your eyes cutting away, embarrassed for even looking at him. When he walked over to you - the same spot where customers waited for their drinks to be finished - you wanted the ground to swallow you up. At first, you weren't sure if that was the same man you bumped into a couple of weeks ago in the cafe, but the moment he turned around and you saw the black surgical mask over the lower half of his face, your face turned so red. His brown eyes locking on to yours for a brief second made your pulse quicken.

Thank god, your latte was called out, making you scurry over to the counter to grab it before rushing out of the cafe, not even being brave enough to look at him again. It wasn't like Simon had plans to talk to you anyway, but he did think it was slightly entertaining. Maybe one day, if he saw you again, he'd tell you there was no need to feel embarrassed about the awkwardness between you.

Wait, why did he think that?  

It wasn't like you two knew each other, but he didn't like the feeling of making you feel super uncomfortable if he could help it. And that was odd. It made his mind draw a blank for a split second before he internally shook his head. Still, his drink order was called out and he grabbed it before heading to the store. 

What do we think about chapter 2? Still not sure about details on how I want to go with this. I have ideas but let me know if yall are still liking this after this chapter lol! This is going to be a SLOW BURN so just know it's gonna take a while for reader and Simon to develop feelings :)

Taglist: @simp-4-masked-men @dayrin085 @jessicab1991 @kylies-love-letter @kalypsoox @brownlee-22 @firefoxkairan

[shitsndgiggs]

The reader and kenan have a daughter whos 2 and she tells them she wants a sister to play dolls with kenan tells her “me and mommy will see what we can do” and he gets all smirky to you whispering dirty things in ur ear .

SISTER REQUEST - KENAN YILDIZ

Your daughter wants a sister

Kenan Yildiz x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

It was a peaceful Saturday morning, the kind of morning where everything seemed to slow down. Kenan, our two-year-old daughter, Ayla, and I were lounging in the living room.

Ayla was sitting on the floor, surrounded by her favorite dolls, chattering away in her sweet little voice as she played with them.

Kenan was scrolling through his phone, occasionally looking up to watch Ayla or share a soft smile with me.

It was one of those moments where everything felt right, and the happiness in the room was palpable.

Out of nowhere, Ayla looked up from her dolls, her big eyes filled with curiosity. “Mommy?” she asked, holding up her favorite doll. “I want a sister.”

Kenan and I froze for a second, exchanging surprised glances before both of us burst into laughter. "A sister?" I asked, smiling down at her. "Where did you get that idea, sweetie?

She nodded enthusiastically, her curls bouncing. “Yeah! A sister to play dolls with me. We can have tea parties!”

I tried to keep my composure, but the innocence in her request made me want to scoop her up and smother her with kisses.

Kenan, on the other hand, had a different reaction. He raised an eyebrow and smirked, clearly trying to hide the mischievous grin spreading across his face.

He leaned back on the couch, arms behind his head as he looked at me with that signature look of his—playful and a little too confident. "Well, Ayla," he said, his voice dripping with amusement, "me and mommy will see what we can do."

I shot him a look, narrowing my eyes, but Ayla didn’t pick up on the underlying tone in his voice. She just giggled and continued playing with her dolls, happy with Kenan’s response.

But Kenan wasn’t done. Oh, no. He slid closer to me on the couch, leaning in so Ayla couldn’t hear, his lips brushing against my ear. “Maybe we should get started on that sister tonight,” he whispered, his voice low and teasing. "You know... after she goes to bed."

I rolled my eyes, fighting the blush creeping up my cheeks. "Kenan," I muttered, trying to keep my voice steady, but he didn’t back down.

His hand moved to my thigh, squeezing gently as he leaned in even closer, his lips just grazing the skin beneath my ear. “Just think about it, babe,” he murmured, his tone taking on that deeper, huskier quality that always made my stomach do flips. “You, me... making another baby...”

I swatted his hand away playfully, glancing over at Ayla, who was still fully immersed in her tea party, oblivious to the conversation happening above her head. “Kenan, stop,” I whispered, but the smile tugging at my lips betrayed me.

He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling in his chest, clearly enjoying how flustered I was getting.

“What? It’s not a bad idea,” he continued, his fingers tracing small circles on my thigh. “Ayla wants a sister, and I’m more than willing to make that happen for her... and you.”

I bit my lip, trying to focus on anything but how good his voice sounded when he was being suggestive like this. “We are not discussing this in front of her,” I hissed, but it was getting harder to ignore the heat rising between us.

Kenan leaned in again, his breath hot against my ear as he whispered “Come on Askim, you look so sexy pregnant”

"Kenan!" I half-whispered, half-giggled, pushing him away again, my face fully flushed by now.

He laughed, clearly pleased with himself. “Okay, okay, I’ll stop... for now,” he said, sitting back with a smug grin, his hand still resting on my thigh as if he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

“But I’m serious, babe. We could give her a sister... or maybe a brother,” he added with a wink.

I shook my head, still trying to hide my smile. "You're impossible."

Kenan just grinned wider, leaning back against the couch. "And you love me for it."

Before I could respond, Ayla looked up at us again, completely oblivious to the tension between me and Kenan.

She clutched her doll tighter, her little face lighting up with excitement. “So I get a sister soon?” she asked innocently, her eyes wide and hopeful.

Kenan and I both laughed, and I reached down to stroke her hair. “We’ll see, sweetie,” I said gently, trying to steer the conversation away from Kenan’s less-than-innocent suggestions.

Kenan, though, wasn’t one to let things go so easily. He leaned in one last time, his lips brushing against my ear again, sending another shiver down my spine as he whispered, “Sooner than she thinks.”

I shot him a glare, but the smile tugging at the corner of my lips ruined any attempt at being serious.

“Just you wait,” he added, giving my thigh one last squeeze before turning his attention back to Ayla. "Daddy’s going to make it happen."

[novaursa]

Heya!!! Just saw you'd say you'd do nsfw alphabets! Could I get one for Aemond plz???

Aemond Targaryen NSFW Alphabet

- Paring: female!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Rating: Explicit 18+

A = Aftercare

Aemond may appear cold and calculating, but after an intense session, he’ll wrap you in his arms, whispering in High Valyrian as he strokes your hair. He likes to make sure you’re comfortable and secure, showing a gentler side few ever see.

B = Body Part

His hands. He takes immense pride in his skillful hands, both in combat and in bed. He loves using them to explore every inch of your body, watching your reactions to his touch.

C = Cum

Aemond loves the sight of you covered in his release, a mark of his claim. He’s not shy about being messy, but he’s meticulous about cleaning you up afterward, often with a wicked smirk on his face.

D = Dirty Secret

He secretly enjoys the idea of being caught or watched. The thrill of potentially being discovered drives him wild, and he might even orchestrate situations to bring you close to the edge of exposure.

E = Experience

Despite his disciplined appearance, Aemond is more experienced than one might think. He’s had lovers before but is highly selective, only choosing those he finds worthy of his time and attention.

F = Favorite Position

He loves having you on your knees, looking up at him with that defiant or submissive gaze. Dominating you from above, or taking you from behind, gives him a sense of control he craves both in and out of the bedroom.

G = Goofy

Rarely, but when he’s in a particularly good mood, he might crack a smirk or chuckle, especially if you do something unexpected that surprises him in bed.

H = Hair

He’s meticulous about his appearance. Aemond prefers things neat and orderly, which extends to grooming. He loves grabbing a fistful of your hair, using it to guide you exactly where he wants.

I = Intimacy

Though he can be rough and demanding, he has moments of surprising tenderness. During these times, he’s slower, more deliberate, his single eye locked on yours as if memorizing every expression you make.

J = Jack Off

He doesn’t indulge often, preferring the real thing, but if he’s been away or deprived for too long, he’ll fantasize about you in vivid detail, his hand moving swiftly as he imagines your warmth and the sounds you make.

K = Kinks

Aemond has a thing for dominance and submission, often mixing pain with pleasure. He enjoys pushing your limits, seeing how far you’ll go to please him. He also has a penchant for marking you, whether with his teeth, his hands, or more permanent reminders.

L = Location

He’s daring, enjoying the thrill of taking you in dangerous or forbidden places. A quiet corner of the Red Keep or the Dragonpit — anywhere that adds an element of risk.

M = Motivation

Your defiance. He loves when you challenge him, his blood heating at the thought of putting you back in your place. Conversely, your submission drives him equally mad, the sight of you willing and ready for him igniting a primal need to claim you.

N = No

He draws the line at anything that would cause you genuine harm. Despite his darker urges, he’s protective of you and would never cross that boundary.

O = Oral (Giving)

He’s skilled and relentless, taking pride in making you fall apart with his mouth alone. He loves the feeling of control, holding your hips down as he devours you, eyes never leaving your face.

P = Pace

Varies with his mood. He can be slow and deliberate, torturing you with every stroke, or rough and fast, chasing his release like a man possessed.

Q = Quickie

Aemond loves the thrill of a quickie, especially in risky places. He’ll take you against a wall or in a shadowed alcove, his hand clamped over your mouth to stifle your moans.

R = Risk

He’s not afraid to take risks, enjoying the added excitement it brings. He’s careful to never endanger you, but the possibility of getting caught or being overheard excites him immensely.

S = Stamina

He has incredible stamina, able to go for multiple rounds with barely a pause. He’s almost insatiable, pushing you to your limits time and time again.

T = Toys

Aemond prefers using his own hands and body, but he’s not against introducing toys to heighten the experience. He particularly enjoys using restraints or blindfolds, amplifying your senses and his control over you.

U = Unfair

He can be a tease, dragging out your pleasure until you’re begging for release. He loves seeing you frustrated, relishing the control he has over your body and your desires.

V = Volume

He’s generally quiet, but when he’s truly lost in the moment, you might hear low growls or murmured curses in High Valyrian. He prefers hearing you, finding your moans and cries intoxicating.

W = Wild Card

Aemond is surprisingly tactile, enjoying the feel of your skin under his hands. He’ll trace scars, kiss bruises he’s left, and map every inch of your body with a fascination that borders on reverence.

X = X-Ray

Aemond is lean but strong, his body honed by years of training. He’s proud of his physique and the reactions it draws from you.

Y = Yearning

When he wants you, he can be relentless. He’s not above using his power or status to ensure you’re available when his desires flare, often appearing unexpectedly and sweeping you away without warning.

Z = ZZZ

He rarely falls asleep immediately, instead watching you as you drift off, his mind racing. He’ll eventually succumb to sleep, his body pressed protectively against yours, an arm slung possessively over your waist.

[willowrites]

𝐃𝐎𝐌!𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐁𝐘 𝐗 𝐅𝐄𝐌 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒

⌗ 𝐝𝐨𝐦!𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐛𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞 ! nsfw later on

𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬. i hope you enjoy thisss, sorry it took ages

sfw !

dom!colby who is always the one planning your dates and nights out regardless. he’ll take recommendations but he does all the work.

“should i call and make a reservation?” you questioned once colby agreed to going out for dinner.

“mm mm.” he denied. “you know i do that shit baby, you jus get ready and look all pretty, alright?” he said grabbing your chin before pulling you toward him and connecting your lips.

dom!colby who has a huge ego.

dom!colby who always makes sure you’re comfortable whenever you both are out and about together in public.

“you doing okay, baby?” colby combed back your hair behind your ear. you both had been at a tara yummy party and he noticed you were sort of quiet and to yourself.

“im okay. just don’t know anyone here, that’s all.” you smiled kindly.

colby looked down toward you admiring you. “mm, let me call tara and tell her to include you and talk to you.” he kissed your forehead.

“no no colby it’s okay.” you tried to stop him but he shook his head and muttered a quick ‘be right back.’

dom!colby who always has you either sitting on his lap, has your feet over his lap, or has his arm over your shoulder, wanting to touch you at all times.

dom!colby who refuses to let you purchase anything for yourself. he wants to spoil and spend money on you.

dom!colby who is always carrying what he can so that you won’t have to carry a thing.

“colby, give me the bags.” you demanded trying to take away the bags that held your recently purchased items; the ones colby bought for you of course.

he whipped the bags out of your grasp. “stop fussin’, i’m alright okay?” he told you with a cheeky smile.

dom!colby who loves to hear you speak about things like your day or something else and when you refuse to, he makes sure you know it’s not a decision. he wants you to unwind.

dom!colby who whenever you guys get into an argument he’s always the first one to initiate a conversation and talk it out.

“no,” he shook his head. “we’re not doing this. we’re not going to bed upset with each other. baby tell me what’s wrong, let’s solve this. wanna kiss you right now.”

dom!colby who when you’re having a conversation and you are not looking at him or making eye contact he’ll grab your chin to look at him.

“how can i fix this? what’s wrong?” colby was trying to speak to you but you’ve been reluctant to pay him any attention. “don’t do this bullshit, look at me.” he grabbed your jaw, forcing you to look up at him.

nsfw !

dom!colby who is always the first to initiate any sexual physical affection or intimacy.

you sat on colby’s lap as he started to kiss up the back of your neck. “so pretty and all f’me right, baby?” he purred in your ear causing you to feel two heartbeats.

you withdrew from the conversation burying your head in his neck. he chuckled before gripping your hips and moving you to straddle him. “don’t be shy. c’mon, show me that pretty face. wanna make you feel good, will ya let me?”

dom!colby who always holds the dominant role in sex.

“be a good girl for me and let me handle you, yeah?” he cooed, while he moved your hips over his own waist. you felt the poke of his hard cock poking through his shorts. your arousal pooled in your panties. “mm, does it feel good pretty girl?”

you nodded as sweet whimpers escaped your throat. “mhm…” the slight stimulation had you desperately needing even more. he had a shit-eating grin plastered on his face at the sight of you writhing on top of him.

dom!colby who has an insane breeding kink and loves to fuck his own cum back into you.

“gonna fuck my shit into you. make sure this belly gets swollen n full with my children. want a baby in you, honey?” he entered you pushing in his milky cream, refusing to let it leak out. “m’gonna make you the mother of my children baby, you’ll see.” he groaned watching as his cum managed to leak out your hole.

dom!colby who has a choking kink.

dom!colby who loves bondage whether it’s tying you to the headboard or cuffing you.

“look at you… all pretty ‘nd helpless.” he stood over you as both of your arms were tied seperated to the bed frame. “gonna do such good things to my girl.”

dom!colby who loves both degrading and praising you.

“c’mon you can take it, my cock slut huh?” colby groaned while he pounded into you at a relentless pace. “greedy whore, fucked dumb on my cock.”

his hand found its way to your throat. “bein’ such a good girl f’me. this pretty pussy belongs to me, huh? my girl loves when i fuck her like this, yeah?”

dom!colby who enjoys many different positions in sex but his favorite is doggy but only when you’re faced toward a mirror so he could see your face while you cum.

his head was thrown back, veins prominent, while he thrusted into you. you stared at yourself in the mirror. “don’t look away. want you to see how good i make you feel.” he grabbed your hair and kept your head up so that you couldn’t look away even if you wanted to. “fuck — i love you.” he groaned, feeling his own orgasm creep up onto him.

© willowrites

[bambi-slxt]

🤍𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐞🤍

𝕔𝕙𝕣𝕚𝕤𝕥𝕠𝕡𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕥𝕦𝕣𝕟𝕚𝕠𝕝𝕠 𝕩 𝕗𝕖𝕞!𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕖𝕣

word count: 1.6k

genre/tropes: established relationship, hurt/comfort, all fluff

warnings: reader is on her period (fic inspired by me being sick as fuck for a month)

notes from bambi: chris takes care of reader on her period (does not include period sex). don't like, don't read - if you do read, please enjoy! <3

It probably ruined the mattress too. Fuck.

"Chris, baby.." You shook him gently awake. "I'm really sorry but can you go sleep in Matt's room?"

He yawned, a massive, snake-like yawn, unhinged jaw and all. "What're you talkin’ about, ma."

You grimaced, unwilling to go into gruesome detail. "I, um...

Chris blinked away the sleep from his eyes and took in the scene before him. Dark blood had soaked through his bedsheets—quite a bit of it. “Oh fuck, are you ok-”

“Yeah, I just–no, don't look at it, I promise I'll take care of everything, I'm gonna wash your sheets and if you need a new mattress I'll get it, I'm so sorry, Chris please, just…just go sleep with Matt.”

While you spoke, Chris sat himself up and slipped off the other side of the bed, his face fallen with empathy. “‘M gonna help. Come on, let's strip it.”

Your stomach twisted. “No, Chris. I don't want you to see this, I don't even really want you to see me right now, please just go.”

Chris padded around the end of his bed, walking towards you with his achingly familiar gait. “Come here, babygirl.”

Tears, hot and stinging, pricked your eyes, and they began to flow as his arms enveloped your body. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry…” You tucked your head into his neck, hands clinging to his shirt like a child while his hands stroked up and down your back, your chest heaving and hiccuping with cries. It was all bullshit, this whole thing.

“Don’t gotta be sorry. It’s okay. I got you. M’ not goin’ anywhere. Easy, pretty girl. Take it easy.” Chris murmured his reassurances gently as you stood together in his dark room. 

“Thabnk you,” you sniffled, nose stuffed. “I’m gonna shoot myself directly into the sun.”

He coughed out a laugh. “Don’t do that. Come on, let's take care of the bed and we can go shower, yeah? Get y’ cleaned up n’ shit, okay?”

An apologetic but appreciative smile cracked its way through your features. “Okay.”

Chris’s hands slipped away and cradled your face with as much tenderness as he could muster. “There’s my girl. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You leaned into his touch, looking up at him through tear-soaked lashes. “Hey, baby,” he whispered. “My pretty girl.”

With another sniffle, you finally tore yourself away from his embrace and stared decisively at the disaster zone. Yanking the comforter off, you and Chris began to silently unmake the bed, working in a quiet tandem that would have been comfortable if not for the subject at hand. Balling up his sheets, you stepped around him, making sure your arm brushed his back as you passed, and stepped carefully up the stairs. About halfway up, your ears alerted you to another set of footsteps behind you and you turned to address him. “Sweetheart, you don’t have to-”

“Shh. What if you get lost?”

“...I’m not gonna get lost.”

“Or kidnapped? Ever think about that?”

“I can honestly say that a home invasion resulting in my abduction hasn’t crossed my mind in years.”

Chris huffed and nudged you up the stairs again. “Skill issue.”

Another unexpected smile stretched your lips. “Shut up.”

A soft light emanated from Matt’s room - he must still be awake. “What time is it?” you murmured, sliding open the folding door to reveal the washer and dryer.

Chris shrugged, reaching above your head for the stain remover. “Time doesn’t mean anything anyway.”

“What?” You took the bottle from him and rifled through the heap of sheets. 

He chuckled, quite proud of his ability to drop conversation-grenades. “Like, the numbers we put with time, they don’t add any meaning to it. Numbers are just a way for us to measure something we don’t understand.”

You turned to him slowly, in utter disbelief. “All that raw, incredible intelligence…remind me again how you spell tw-”

“Okay, enough,” he grumbled, snatching the sheets from you. “Here, gimme that. You’re doing it wrong.”

You snickered softly, wrapping your hands around Chris’s arm as he scrubbed the magic soap into his sheets. “Wait, no, you don’t have to do that, hold on, let me just-”

He bumped you out of the alcove with his hips. “Stop. I got it. Doesn’t bother me, ma, I promise.”

“...But I feel bad.”

He shrugged, hands still working the solution through the accidental mess you’d made. “Don’t feel bad. Problem solved.”

“Okay but like…it’s embarrassing. I don’t want you to see this and associate it with me.”

Chris tilted his head and turned to face you, leaning on the dryer to stabilize himself. “You’ve cleaned up worse things that’ve come outta’ me. Y’ any less attracted to me?” You shook your head, wrinkling your nose even still as you remembered his week-long recovery from food poisoning. “See?” Chris held out his hands. “Come here.” You sighed when you settled against his chest once more. “I’m gonna see you do some embarrassing stuff, and some gross stuff, and you’ll see the same from me.”

You grinned in spite of yourself. “Or worse.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled, ruffling your hair, “Or worse. Look at me.” Raising your head to meet his gaze, you felt his thumb underneath your chin - not to force you, but just to touch you. “I don’t love ya any less. M’ not any less attracted to ya. I don’t want you to be perfect, I want you to be real and I want you to be mine. That’s all I’m askin’ for, babygirl.”

You stayed quiet for a moment, taking in his words and holding his gaze. “You’re so sweet.”

A soft blush lit his cheeks and he turned away to smile. “Shut up.” 

After dropping the offending sheets into the washer, Chris managed the dials and left it at that. “You wanna go get cleaned up?”

You nodded profusely. “I feel disgusting.”

“Come on, then. Gonna run you a shower to get all that blood off you and then we can just soak in the bath,” he murmured, beckoning down the stairs for you to go before him. “Ladies first.”

“Why, thank you, sir,” you replied, taking his hand daintily and attempting to saunter down the steps to his room and adjoined bathroom. 

“You look like those geese ladies from that old cat movie,” he snickered, following you with a hand wrapped around your outstretched fingers. 

“The Aristocats? I fucking love the Aristocats,” you said.

“Wanna watch it later?”

“Yessss.”

Chris chuckled again and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead. “Lemme get the water warm.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I like taking care of you.”

Now it was your turn to blush. “Shut up.”

The gentle shhhh coming from Chris’s bathroom washed over your ears as you slid the ruined pajama pants down to your ankles. “Gonna have to wash these too,” you growled, balling them up and throwing them at the corner. 

“I’ll do that,” Chris said, “Get in,” and he pointed forcefully to the shower.

“Oh my god it’s so warm in here,” you groaned happily, feeling it soak your skin and warm your body.

“Not too hot?” he asked, closing the sliding glass door almost all the way. 

“Perfect.” Securing your hair out of the way, you let the water flow down your body, taking all the dark stains with it and disappearing down the drain. You didn’t even notice Chris leave. 

The lighting in his bathroom was soft and easy on the eyes. You pulled your soap off the tile-inset shelf and opened it over your chest, letting the cool gel coat your breasts and stomach. Frugality held no bearing on your mind tonight - you earned this small luxury.

The door opened again. “‘M back, baby.” Chris leaned against the wall that upheld the shower, turning his head to meet your eyes through the glass door. “You feelin’ better?” 

You nodded, smearing the now-sudsy soap over yourself. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Taking care of me.”

Chris smiled, though it was tinged by sadness. “Of course I take care of you. And ‘m sorry you thought you had to do all that, you know…by yourself.”

You returned his ached smile. “I'm sorry I bled on your mattress.”

“It’s not a death sentence, babygirl, it’ll be alright.”

You stepped back into the water stream, and let it send the last spots of blood into the drain. “So will I.”

When you awoke again, it was on the couch. The white couch. Scrambling to your feet, your eyes darted around in horror - but no red marks greeted you. 

“You’re okay, baby,” Chris said softly. He stood shirtless in the kitchen, standing over a sizzling pan. “Brought you up here cuz’ you didn't want me to leave you alone in bed.”

You blinked rapidly, trying to regain memory. “But I never…I don't remember putting a-”

“I put a towel underneath us so you could sleep naked like you like,” he said with a smile. “You remember wakin' up this mornin’?”

“Yes…Oh Chris…” A blush flamed across your cheeks at the memory of him holding your hips, running a soft, cool wipe over your folds at your behest. “I shouldn't have asked you to do that, that was weird and gross and-”

“Shut up.”

“No, really, that was-”

“Hey.” He clicked something on the stove and walked over to the couch, cupping your face with his hand. “I was happy to do it. I told you, I like takin’ care of you. Besides, what kinda man would I be if I was scared of a little blood?” His thumb brushed over your cheek. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Tears pricked your eyes, and your chin felt a little shaky. “Thank you.”

“‘Course,” he grinned. “Come on, food’s ready.”

notes from bambi: hope you liked it! i'm such a sucker for soft!chris

[purplesoulcollection]

Unnatural Love

Part 8 Synopsis : Name has being transmigrated into the world of I'm Not That Kind Of Talent without ever reading the novel. She's not being reincarnated as a human but as a devil as well. Hi There! I want to let you know that this fanfiction story isn't solely my creation. I borrowed the concept from @quqiwo2. I haven't actually read the novel either, just some spoiler to the end.

I hope you'll excuse my spelling and grammar mistake, because English not my first language.

As soon as Deon came back from his holiday trip I got this news.

Deon has not received the orders to return to the human world yet, so that means this screen gives me time to prepare and do the quest.

I'll have to apply for leave at this rate. There's no way I could just run away. I still have to work here to be with Deon. But the skill I can use to persuade Deon to let me go with him is just...

... I closed my eyes. Dizziness could really kill me right now. To get that skill I have to do it.

But that's for later, now is not the right time. Because now Deon is the referee for the fight. The useless fight for me…

Then Deon returned to his room with a pale face. He immediately lay down on his bed and cover his eyes with his hand. He looks tired.

"What's wrong with you, Deon. You’re not even fighting, right? Aren't you just to be a judge?" That's my reaction seeing the tired Deon eventhough he's not fighting.

"Earlier the impact of the attack almost hurt me, but Ed was the one who helped me."

Mr Ed?! Not surprising at all…

"He is loyal to you. Of course he will put up a body for you."

Silence fell over us before Deon finally started talking.

"You know Adele..." Deon started the conversation in a gloomy tone

"The commander of the 5th Army said that she and her boyfriend wanted to have child and that child were a blessing..."

There is already, his trauma, but this is also an opportunity for me.

I sat next to Deon, lay on top of him and started to bring my face closer to his face.

"Children are indeed a blessing for a couple. But not all couples know how to appreciate the blessings given to them."  I stroked his cheek and he looked at me with wry look, looks like he wanted to cry with all his burden.

"If Deon is willing, would you like one day if we make that blessing?"

After saying that, embarrassment and amusement immediately hit my heart.

'Why? Why do I have to do all this. Why do I have to take on all of this responsibility?  I'm embarrassed myself so badly.'

I bit my lip with my teeth to suppress my overflowing embarrassment and don’t look at him at all.

I quickly got up from my current position, I wanted to forget what happened to me just now. But Deon's hand pulled me until I returned to the previous position, even making my face closer than before and my hand was used as a foundation to support my weight, making my eyes shake and my body stiffen.

So I locked Deon in a lying position. His gaze pierced through me and I don’t really like that intense gaze intended to me…

"Are you sure? Even if you can't have children? Because you're a devil"

Huh, are the devils here infertile?

"No problem. Isn't there such a thing as adoption?"

It's true that I'm not mentally ready to have children now. But if it is possible and can actually happen to adopt, why not?

The plus is that I don't need to conceive and give birth. But I'm also quite curious about women who bear children. A woman who is 9 months pregnant will love her child with all her heart. Maybe I will never get that love.

Then Deon's hand suddenly pressed down on my neck. Made my hand fall and I fell too.

Fell to kiss Deon's lips.

Blank...

All my thoughts broke, for the blink of an eye, I forgot that I was human, the problem of Deon's tragedy, or transmigration. After I woke up from the emptiness, I could only feel a soft but also warm sensation on my lips. Then I started to be surprised, I didn't know whether I could let this go or not, or maybe i also want to indulge it.

But before I could start doing anything there was a knock on Deon's bedroom door.

"Master Demon, you were summoned by the demon king."

And I finally had the courage to break our kiss and I touch my lips that just been kissed, didn’t even believe that this is my moment of my first kiss.

Only then did Deon, with an annoyed face, wake up from his sleep. He scratched his hair with an annoyed and angry expression because he had disturbed this important moment. But I were actually grateful and grateful to have those kiss been disturbed.

I'm not ready to experience my first kiss, but it’s too late. I already got it.

"Let's do that again later! " As soon as he said so he left the room.

What?

What did he just say?

Will you do it again later?

I'm not mentally ready!?!

But even though I wasn't mentally ready, I still checked my Quest screen.

I can complete two Quests at once. Should I be happy or should I be sad?

Maybe it's better if I choose to be happy, yeah??

Yeayy... cried!

"I have to return to the human world." He said that after his meeting with Demon King.

Deon's adventure in the human world is a journey I definitely have to embark with him.

"Deon. Can I come with you?"

He was clearly surprised, because he knew I was a devil, not a human. Besides, why would I want to go with him to the human world which is clearly not my world.

“Why? Don't you want to separate?” He finally glances my way while he's preoccupied with swapping his shirt for a more covered one and his robe. He’s not exposing anything to me, you know?

I actually don't really want to join your adventure, it's just that I have to make sure to prevent any tragedy will happen.

And since I appreciate the reasons given, I'll go ahead and accept it.

“Y-yeah, we're just dating. Why do we have to be apart for that long?”

"But you were fine when I went on holiday, weren't you?"

"You're only going on holiday for a short time, but it's going to be a long one. Can I come along..."

I tried to persuade Deon who didn't quickly agree. Why he’s so slow to only say yes to me? My mission is to save you, you know?

"But you're a devil. How can you come with me without people knowing you're a devil?"

Hearing that question makes me grinning at him, "Don't worry, I already know the solution."

"What, is that new power again?"

"Yes, I got the power to disguise myself as a human." I show him the new ability I’ve retrieved. He looks so impressed with my changes. I haven't had the chance to see my human form yet, not even once.

But his amazement returned back to his dismay. "But your job..."

"I've already applied for leave so it's no problem."

He sighed, that's the sign of my victory.

"Which means we have to go more quietly than usual."

"Just use my abilities." I reminded him.

"Oh yeah, I just remembered you have that ability. Are your invisibility can applied to me?"

"I can manage what becomes transparent, not only my body alone" It's really convenient you know, can make other people transparent too.

"But what will your identity be when you arrive in the human world?"

OH

'Oh no! I really haven't thought about that. What's our relationship in there?, as friend, as a servant? As his whore who only leech his fortune? Or as a married couple even if we're really not? Or as an adopted eventhough I'm the grown woman?'

My messy thought really start thinking out of common sense because of a sudden panic. If i hear my thought when I'm in normal condition, I will expressed my frustration over my own foolishness.

But Deon has his own answer. "Do you want to be my fiancé?"

Fi-fiancé.... T-thats... (Hesitating&Embarassed)

Come On, don't to be so overthinking!!!

Come to my senses... I need a reason to be in the human world, being a friend or servant, or anything i said earlier isn't suitable enough reason to blend in humans world that match Deon as a noble.

The only bond that truly brings a woman and a man closer together is a romantic relationship, whether I like it or not.

In fact, it would be even stranger if we were married. We will being accused of lying.

So fiancé was still better than married. Not official yet but so in love.

So I just said yes in the end. No other option left.

To Be Continued

[soulofapatrick]

Sleep, I've Got You - Liam Mairi x Female Reader

Summary: you haven't slept in two weeks and two people are pushing you to seek Liam's help

Warnings: none

Words: 2.3k

Y/N's POV

The training room is filled with quiet conversation, but I linger in the doorway, unnoticed. Violet is stretched out on the floor with a book in hand, Bodhi and Garrick are watching Ridoc and Sawyer debating something trivial. Liam is just listening along, breathing air through his nose  when either of the goofs say something even more ridiculous than the other but he’s fiddling with a dagger in his hand. Xaden is in the corner, brooding as usual, his dark eyes occasionally flicking up to meet mine before drifting away. 

“Go to him.” Draighanmúr’s, or Draighan as I call him, voice rumbles in the back of my mind, firm and gentle. His presence is soothing, as always, but his suggestion catches me off guard, feeling his silent urge for me to move from where I’m still hovering in the doorway. He doesn’t say who the ‘him’ is but I know exactly who he is on about. 

I shouldn’t be here. My body is heavy with exhaustion, my thoughts fogged by the lack of sleep that’s haunted me for days. I know I should turn around and head back to the dorms, crawl into bed and pull the duvet over my head and try to get a single wink of sleep. Something, or someone, keeps me rooted in place, Xaden’s eyes flicking over to mine again once more before he goes back to brooding. 

The shadows around me seem to come to life, curling around my ankles like tendrils, their touch cold and almost tangible. There’s a light pressure at the back of my legs, an insistent nudge that makes me take a wobbly step forwards. My breath catching in my throat as I realise what’s happening—these aren’t just ordinary shadows. They’re Xaden’s. 

I glare at my wingleader instinctively, annoyance flickering in my chest. He’s the only one who could be doing this, the one manipulating the shadows to push me out of the safety of the darkness where I’ve been hiding. His eyes meet mine briefly, and there’s a knowing look in them, an acknowledgment of what he’s doing. He doesn’t say anything, though, just tilts his head slightly as if to say, You know this is for your own good.

Draighan chuffs in the back of my mind as if agreeing with Xaden’s silent comment, his voice laced with a mix of amusement and agreement as he tells me You need rest, and you know who can give it to you. His presence is warm, comforting, but it doesn’t take away the frustration bubbling inside me. Xaden and Draighan unknowingly conspiring against me. 

With a resigned sigh, I continue to shuffle forwards, my movements somewhat sluggish and uncertain—things you don’t want for a dragon rider. Every step feels heavier than the last, and I hesitate again, my body instinctively trying to resit the pull. But I can feel Xaden’s eyes boring holes into the side of my head, a silent pressure that refuses to elm me retreat. It’s as if his gaze alone is propelling my forwards, leaving me no choice but to keep moving until I find myself standing next to the group of boys. 

Ridoc glances up at me, a mischievous grin on his face which would have me worried if it were anyone else but Ridoc as he asks, “You joining us?” His tone is light, but there’s genuine curiosity in his eyes, like he’s surprised I’ve wandered over to them and not Violet. 

I just nod, the motion feeling more like a reflex than a conscious decision. Without saying a word, I sink down the wall, near Sawyer and a few steps away from Liam, close enough to feel the warmth of Liam’s presence but far enough that I don’t feel complexly exposed. 

The golden evening light streams into the training room, casting a warm, ethereal glow over everything it touches. Liam sits bathed in that light, his soft light-blond hair catching the glow, making him look almost ethereal. His tall, muscular frame, as built as Dain, is relaxed as he fiddles with a dagger, the blade catching the light as it twirls effortlessly between his fingers. His blue eyes are focused on the conversation, a soft, thoughtful expression on his face as he listens to the banter around him. There’s a rugged handsomeness to him, emphasised by the prominent nose and the sprawling rebellion relic that begins at his wrist and disappears under the sleeve of his tunic. When he smiles, a dimple appears, adding a touch of warmth to his otherwise stoic demeanour.

My heart tightens in my chest as I watch him. He looks like he belongs in this light, like the strength and calmness of it are just extensions of who he is. There’s a quiet confidence about him that draws me in, and I can’t help but feel my crush on him swell, massive and overwhelming. I’m head over heels for him, and it’s a feeling that terrifies me as much as it thrills me. 

Draighan’s presence in my mind is a steady, reassuring hum, bolstering my resolve. I scoot closer to Liam, my movements slow and deliberate as I inch toward him. My heart races as I reach out, nudging his right arm from his lap. He looks down at me, a hint of surprise in his eyes, but he doesn’t say anything as I lay my head down where his arm once rested.

I tense, my whole body stiffening in anticipation of some kind of backlash or teasing comment. I’m ready for Ridoc’s sharp wit, for Sawyer’s playful jabs, or even for Liam to shift uncomfortably and pull away. But none of that happens. Instead, there’s a beat of silence, and then I feel Liam’s hand find its way into my hair. His fingers are gentle, tentative at first, before they start to move in slow, soothing strokes.

Liam's fingers begin to move through my hair, the touch light and careful, as though he’s afraid of hurting me. He smooths out the knots with practiced ease, each motion gentle yet firm. The tension I’ve been holding in my scalp and neck gradually starts to dissolve under his deft touch, the soothing strokes lulling me into a state of relaxation I haven’t felt in days.

As his hand continues to comb through my hair, he leans forward slightly, tilting my head to the side so that our eyes meet. His blue eyes, usually so sharp and alert, soften as they take in the exhaustion written across my face. There’s a quiet understanding in his gaze, a silent acknowledgment of how tired I am, how much I need this moment of comfort.

“You’re exhausted,” he murmurs softly, his voice low and tender. “Sleep.”

The warmth in his tone wraps around me like a blanket, and for a moment, everything else fades away—the noise of the room, the worries in my mind. It’s just him, his voice, and the steady rhythm of his fingers in my hair. He lets go of my face, leaning back against the wall as he continues his soothing ministrations. Before he settles, though, his fingers briefly brush against my cheek, a tender gesture that sends a warmth spreading through my chest. Then, his hand returns to my hair, the steady, rhythmic strokes coaxing me closer to the edge of sleep.

As I begin to drift, I catch Ridoc’s eyes from across the room. He’s been watching quietly, his playful demeanour momentarily subdued. He mouths a single word at me, a question: Nightmares?

I nod once, softly, the motion barely perceptible. It’s all I can manage in my state of exhaustion, but it’s enough. Ridoc’s gaze softens in understanding before he turns back to his banter with Sawyer, Bodhi, and Garrick, picking up the conversation where he left off.

The world around me fades into the background as Liam’s fingers continue to move through my hair, the gentle rhythm pulling me closer to sleep. Draighan’s presence hums softly in the back of my mind, a comforting reminder that I’m safe, that I can finally let go. My breathing slows, and before long, I succumb to the exhaustion, my body sinking into the warmth and comfort of Liam’s lap.

————

I slowly drift back into consciousness, the heaviness of sleep gradually lifting as awareness returns. The first thing I notice is the softness beneath my head—a pillow, not the comforting firmness of Liam’s lap where I last remember resting. I shift slightly, feeling the warmth of a blanket draped over me, its weight soothing against the cool air of the room. There’s another weight too, heavier and more solid, resting across my waist. It takes me a moment to realize it’s an arm, strong and steady, holding me close.

I blink, my eyes adjusting to the dim light in the room. The training room is gone, replaced by the soft glow of moonlight filtering through a small window. The familiar scent of leather and something distinctly Liam fills my senses, grounding me as I take in my surroundings. I’m not in the dorms, not in my own bed. My heart skips a beat as the realisation sinks in—I’m in Liam’s bed.

I take a slow, deep breath, feeling the rise and fall of the warm body behind me. His presence is solid, comforting, and undeniably familiar. The heat of his body seeps into my back, and for a moment, I just lie there, processing the unexpected but welcome reality of where I am.

Carefully, I roll over, shifting beneath the weight of his arm until I’m facing him. The room is quiet, the only sounds being the soft rustle of the blanket and the steady rhythm of Liam’s breathing. My eyes trace his features, relaxed and peaceful in sleep. His spiky blond hair is tousled, a few strands falling across his forehead. His sharp, blue eyes are hidden behind closed lids, their intensity softened by the calmness of slumber. His prominent nose and the faint shadow of stubble on his jawline give him a rugged look, but there’s a gentleness to him now, a vulnerability that makes my heart ache.

As I lie there, taking in every detail of Liam's serene face, I feel an overwhelming tenderness swell in my chest. His usually intense blue eyes are softened by sleep, his features relaxed in a way I rarely get to see. I can’t help myself—I lean in and press a gentle kiss to his jawline, just where the faint shadow of stubble begins. His skin is warm and slightly rough beneath my lips, the contact filling me with a quiet sense of intimacy.

The soft press of my lips causes him to stir, his brow furrowing slightly before his eyes slowly flutter open. For a moment, he looks disoriented, but then his gaze finds mine, and a slow, sleepy smile spreads across his face, the dimple in his cheek deepening.

"How'd you sleep?" he murmurs, his voice husky with sleep, and it sends a shiver down my spine.

I begin to answer, my voice still soft and laced with the remnants of sleep, "Better than I have in days—" But before I can finish, I notice his eyes flick down to my lips, lingering there for just a heartbeat before he moves.

In a fluid motion, Liam closes the small distance between us, capturing my lips in a kiss that feels like the culmination of something we’ve both been wanting for far too long. His lips are warm and firm against mine, moving with a gentle urgency that takes my breath away. His hand, still resting on my waist, tightens slightly, pulling me closer as if he needs to make sure I’m real, that this moment is real.

The kiss is slow and tender, but there’s a depth to it that speaks of unspoken emotions, of the comfort we find in each other. His thumb brushes over my cheek as he deepens the kiss, his touch both loving and reverent. I lose myself in the sensation, in the way his lips mold perfectly to mine, in the way his warmth seeps into every corner of my being. It feels like coming home, like finding a piece of myself I didn’t know was missing.

When we finally part, it’s with a shared breath, both of us a little dazed but undeniably content. His forehead rests gently against mine, our breaths mingling in the small space between us.

"Maybe we should get a little more sleep," he whispers, his voice a soft murmur that makes my heart flutter. There’s a hint of a smile in his voice, one that I can’t help but return.

"Yeah," I agree, my own voice barely more than a sigh as I shift closer, tucking myself against his bare chest. The steady beat of his heart beneath my ear is a comforting rhythm, lulling me back toward sleep. His arm wraps securely around me, holding me close as his other hand continues its soothing motions, tracing gentle patterns along my back.

As I drift off, the warmth of his body enveloping me and the gentle rise and fall of his chest beneath my head, I feel an overwhelming sense of peace. With Liam holding me close, sleep comes easily, and I let myself surrender to it, knowing that for now, everything is exactly as it should be.

Fourth Wing Masterlist - To be made Comment to be added to tag list

[fakeagatha]

A/N: So, the idea of an Agatha/Mrs Fletcher Crossover had crossed my mind before, but when I heard Kathryn saying that she would like the idea of Agatha being in Mrs Fletcher, it was the confirmation I needed to write for it.

Wrong Reality | Agatha Harkness & Eve Fletcher | Chapter 1: The Accident

Summary: Agatha has an accident, and ends up in the wrong reality, when Eve comes to her aid.

Warnings: Injury, Swearing

Word Count: 1063

Agatha groaned, wandering into her kitchen that morning, her hair a mess and the bags under her eyes very visible. She made herself some tea before making her way to her front porch, to silently judge people passing by.

She sipped on her tea, casually eyeing down the couples hand in hand, her neighbors heading to work and children walking to the local school of Westview. Since being broken out of Wanda's spell, she has found herself more at peace, in her own weird way.

As she lounged, she noticed her Rabbit, Señor Scratchy, chasing a rather large lizard across the road. She caught him before he could cross, sighing, "Mister, you're not supposed to chase reptiles." She said as she placed him down on her chair, and made her way across the street to inspect the bush which the lizard had ran into.

Before she could realize what had happened, a large impact knocked her to the ground. Her vision darkened, the last thing she could see being a car's number plate.

...

Agatha stirred, open her eyes and whining groggily. A middle aged woman was sitting next to her, her blue eyes lighting up as she awoke.

"Nurse!" She heard the woman call, and Agatha grunted as a couple doctors and nurses examined her.

"She's stable. That was quite a hard hit, but not hard enough for any damage." She heard a doctor say. Agatha winced, sitting up. "What the fuck happened?"

The woman next to her spoke up, "I was driving, and suddenly you were just there, I didn't even see you step into the road, I'm so sorry!" She sobbed, and Agatha raised an eyebrow. "I was hit by a damn car?" She rolled her eyes.

Their conversation was interrupted by one of the doctors, "Ma'am, we couldn't find any records of you at all. What is your name?"

"Agatha Harkness." She replied bluntly.

The doctor hummed, taking one final look at the examination results. "Well, Miss Harkness, you're free to go. Surprisingly, you are completely stable. Just make sure to rest, and check both ways before crossing a street." The doctors exited the room, leaving her and the mysterious woman alone.

Agatha scoffed, mimicking the doctor. She looked up at the figure above her, raising an eyebrow. "Who are you?"

The woman smiled, "My name's Eve, again, I'm so, so sorry Agatha, I feel terrible." She sighed, and Agatha shook her off. "Don't worry about it, I'm fine." She cleared her throat, getting out of the hospital bed and looking out of the window, her eyes widening as she saw the unfamiliar surroundings.

"Uh, Rachel-"

"It's Eve,"

"Whatever. Where are we, exactly?" Agatha asked.

"Haddington, Massachusetts. I'm assuming your memory is quite foggy-" She spoke, before Agatha raised her hand, signalling for her to stop talking.

"I live in New Jersey..." She said to herself, and Eve gave her a concerned look.

"I think you need some time to recover. How about you come back to mine? It's the least I could do for you, Agatha, unless you'd rather me take you home, or have someone else to look after you?" Eve offered, and the witch shrugged, knowing that there wasn't much of an option. "Sure, okay... We can go to yours," She sighed.

The two women checked out of the hospital, and the drive back to Eve's home was silent. Agatha looked out the window, feeling at a complete loss as she didn't recognize anything around her. This wasn't the place she lived, and she doesn't understand how she could have ended up in the state she was born in, yet moved away from years ago after the incident with her coven.

Eventually, Eve pulled up to a suburban home, and opened the passenger's side door for Agatha. She stepped out of the car, and followed the younger woman into her house. The witch looked around, taking in the cozy atmosphere of her living room. Eve lead Agatha to her couch, and sat her down.

"Would you like me to make you something to drink?" Eve asked, and Agatha simply nodded. Eve knew that the woman in front of her clearly wasn't right, whether she was simply tired and not fully recovered, or if it was something deeper. All she knew was that she had to repay the woman she hit with her car, with some temporary accommodation as she most likely did not have any family.

Agatha, on the other hand, stared into the distance, occasionally taking in her surroundings and looking at the details of the house. She was still feeling dazed from the whole situation, but still felt extremely confused, and she needed to know what the hell was happening to her.

As Eve set down a cup of tea in front of her, Agatha asked, "What happened, exactly? Where was I when you hit me?" She asked, and Eve sat down next to her.

"Well, I was driving down the street of a nearby block, and it was almost as if you had appeared out of nowhere..." Eve said calmly, "I looked away for a split second, and there you were in front of the car."

Agatha simply stared at her, blinking, "Ra- I mean, Eve, I live in a town in New Jersey. I was simply crossing the road by my house, this quite literally isn't possible."

Eve furrowed her brows, shaking her head, "Look, I think you should just rest, and we can get you sorted in the morning, alright?" She smiled, "You can sleep in my son's room, but we use it as a guest room. He's at college now-" Agatha cut her off.

"Can you just tell me tomorrow morning?" She rubbed her forehead, "I need to rest." Eve quickly nodded, apologizing and taking Agatha into the bedroom. "Just... call me if you need anything, alright?" She smiled, and Agatha nodded in response.

"Thanks..." She muttered, and the younger woman closed the door behind her as she left.

As soon as she heard the door close, Agatha quickly opened her palm, only to see there was no essence of power at all. "I got my powers back from the Witches' Road last year..." She thought to herself, her face filling with horror at the realization that there was no sign of life in her magic.

She slumped down onto the bed, running her hands over her face, feeling too exhausted to do anything else. She closed her eyes, and sleep overtook her at the same time.

[casdeans-pie]

Dean, whispering to the Angel in bed beside him who literally cannot sleep: Cas. You awake?

[celestial-toys]

been laying here listening to Lucky by Dermot Kennedy on loop for half an hour while thinking about Everything Stays and crying

[cockaiine]

nanami’s side of the bed wouldn’t even be called nanami’s anymore. you sleep there nearly every day, blaming it on how the pillows smell of him.

nanami’s clothes aren’t his anymore, you're sleeping in his shorts and t-shirt tonight. you wore his shirt yesterday, and took his ties for some clothes experiments last week.

nanami’s sacred pens are no longer his own, he finds them on the table after you tried to scribble up something and forgot to put them back.

nanami’s mugs are now shared, always in the dishwasher even when he doesn’t recall using them at all. 

nanami’s thoughts don’t belong just to him anymore. you’d bug him about it all day if he doesn’t share what he’s thinking — so he, with an exasperated sigh, tells you what’s on his mind.

nanami’s salary doesn’t go straight to his savings account like it used to, instead taking a portion of it to spend on you. ‘you’ means gifts, flowers, dates, trips, trinkets, and so on.

nanami’s weekends aren’t as quiet as they once were; now they’re chaotic, full of so much of you. 

nanami’s fridge is full nowadays. candy, leftovers, ice cream, cheese, cake, bread, and the list goes on. so many things that don’t go along with his diet fill the once-empty shelves.

nanami doesn’t spend as much time in his study as before you moved in. now old books are left to collect dust, long forgotten in a room that’s never lit. even when he decides to pick one up and read it, it’s the minute that he sees your face the book is tossed away.

nanami’s happiness still comes from days off, but now it’s because those days are spent with you. days when he slept long and ignores the world are long gone, now he gets to sit and focus on you, watching as everything else becomes nothing but background noise.

nanami has always been sure he’s not looking for marriage, at least not right now. but he swears that ring looks so perfect for you. there’s no way he’d miss it. 

nanami stands in front of the bathroom mirror 5 minutes late every day because you’re still figuring out how to fix his tie the right way without any help. he can’t seem to rush you, though — what’s being precisely on time have on your little giggles as you sit on the sink and struggle to finish a task he could have done in under a minute?

nanami has been spending so much time eating as of late, more time than he can afford. while he used to finish a meal in approximately fifteen minutes, now dinners could stretch to two hours. he couldn’t get off the table early when you sit across from him, talking and joking and doing anything that’s not eating. he simply can’t possibly not indulge in the little conversations, appreciating every moment he gets to spend in your presence. nanami’s life wouldn’t even be called his anymore. you’re a storm, invading his life all at once, bringing in your chaos along with you. you’ve infatuated him, you’ve assailed his senses and changed his very being. every time nanami’s eyes align with yours, he prays your presence isn’t a fleeting one. he silently hopes you don’t leave as suddenly as you came, that you plan to stay.