#question my sanity as I continue to do this

[jooqlz]

[saintsaki]

Aaaaaa omg I'm so honored that my silly ask inspired more Anharu art!! They are THE best friends with secret gay feelings Of All Time, to me. Thank you for this blessing 🙏 the Anharu nation, all like. 5 of us, are being FED good today!!

I don't have much I can offer in return, but I did write this itty bitty Anharu fic a little while back? https://archiveofourown.org/works/59091166

On the lighthearted side of things: I think An tries flirting with Haruka at some point but realizes that it's just too similar to the playful banter that they've always done so it just flies completely over Haruka's head. They've been holding hands since they were little, of course Haruka doesn't think anything of it when An does it now.

On the more angsty side of things: I often think about An seeing Haruka's initial rise to fame from afar and being increasingly worried about the worse parts of the idol industry. It chews up the person she knew and spits out something manufactured and Not Right; someone constantly aware of what she's wearing, what she's eating, what she's doing in public, all to maintain that idol image. Haruka her best friend and Kiritani Haruka the Idol are almost different people and it scares her a little. MMJ being such a source of positivity was a massive relief.

more than 2 weeks late reply but anyway,, (looong post ahead ksjsghj)

ur very welcome anon!! im glad to know that im feeding us 5 anharuers. we deserve this tbh. we deserve good fucking food from the Very Cool Pair of Childhood Friends Who Are Obviously Gay And In Love With Each Other. and since ive done a few anharu art already i might as well continue doing more to feed us all 🥹 (goodbye minoharu and more more jump /j)

and your fic. OH MY GOD ANON YOUR FIC. im gonna be real with you ever since i got your ask i still have the fic opened in my browser 😭 i will keep it open and read it forever!! idc if its short!! i LOVE it!! Absolute Chef's Kiss 👌!! I NEED MORE ANAHRU IN THAT KIND OF FLAVOR HKAFGJBS 😭😭😭 ALSO idk why but after reading it, i imagined that this is a recurring convo of theirs. it starts with whatever topic then one of them deviates and it ends just like the fic. this happens over adn over and over and we're just out here wisHING ONE OF THEM CONFESS ALREADY OR SMTH 😭😭

lastly, your lighthearted anharu reminded me of that 'i love you too, egg' meme so, as what youd expect from me, i cant help but put the two sillys in that meme:

Just In: Sources Have Confirmed That Kiritani Haruka Is Dense (real)

and even if An would outright kiss her—a simple, long one or sloppy style even, your choice—Haruka STILL wouldn't think her Bestest Childhood Friend is in love with her, nope! (someone save them)

[mythicalmaven]

19 Lando fluff and smut please

Secret Desires - Lando Norris

Loved writing this! <3 If you guys want a part 2 where the whole ordeal continues (including Lando’s awkward encouter with Max) let me know!😂❤️

Masterlist ↳pairing: Lando Norris x female!verstappen!reader ↳word count: 4,6K ↳Summary: In which the reader is Max Verstappen's twin is Lando's friend & he accidentally confesses some things to her while he's drunk. The day after when he apologizes, it leads to something more. ↳content warnings: friends to lovers, reader is Max Verstappen's twin, lando is drunk and accidentally confesses something to the reader, suggestive content, flirting, dirty talk, sexting, sending nudes, phone sex, masturbation (both f! & m!), praise kink, fluff, smut, 18+ (MDNI!), confessing feelings ↳prompts used: 19 - "Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you.. with my hand down my pants"

You sighed deeply, sinking back into the comfort of the guest bed in your older sister's house, the covers wrapping around you like a warm embrace. The room felt different compared to your Monaco apartment, but it was cozy, filled with the nostalgia of growing up with your family as you saw the pictures hanging on the wall. Pictures of your parents, of you and your twin brother Max, of you and Victoria & so on.

You traded your own bed for the guest bedroom at Victoria's house back home in the Netherlands for the week, to spend some time with your sister again to catch up. After a long night of chatting with Vic, you finally decided to call it a day, though sleep was far from your mind.

Just as you were about to close your eyes to at least give sleeping a try, your phone lit up on the nightstand, a soft buzz drawing your attention. You reached over lazily, expecting a random notification, but your heart skipped a beat when you saw the name flashing on the screen: Lando

Your best friend, your partner in crime, and the guy you’d been secretly in love with for longer than you’d care to admit. The guy who made your heart race with a single smile and had you questioning your sanity every time you felt his touch linger just a little too long. Even though you refused to admit it to anyone with a passion. Stating that the way you felt about Lando was nothing more than two flirtatious friends. You knew you were lying to yourself and your facade was starting to crumble. And now he was texting you, at this hour?

Unlocking your phone, you were met with not one, but several messages from him. You squinted at the screen, reading the texts slowly as they loaded, your eyes widening more with each one.

Lando: Y/n… Lando: Fuhk.. why are you sooooo hotttt? 🥵 Lando: Do yhu have any idea howw many tiems I thout about you… with my hnd down my pantss Lando: *1 image attached* You felt your face heat up instantly, a wave of flustered shock washing over you. He send a photo that you had posted on your story on Instagram today, a photo of you in a cute bikini set at the pool at Vic's house.

What the hell? Lando was… Was he really saying what you thought he was saying? Your mind spun, trying to process the drunk, typo-riddled texts. You knew he must have had a few too many drinks tonight; he mentioned going out to a party with the grid earlier. But this?

Your fingers hovered over the keyboard, your heart racing as you tried to think of a response. A thousand emotions crashed through you at once—embarrassment, confusion, a thrill of excitement. You could barely breathe.

You: Lan, you're drunk as fuck. Go to sleep 😂

you typed back quickly, hitting send before you could second-guess yourself. You barely had time to process your own message before another one from Lando popped up.

Lando: Drunk on love 🤭

Your heart did a somersault in your chest, and you felt your cheeks burning even hotter. What was he doing? Your pulse thudded loudly in your ears as you stared at the screen, fingers frozen above the keyboard, unsure of what to say. Before you could collect your thoughts, your phone buzzed again, but this time, it was a call.

Max’s name flashed on the screen.

You answered, bringing the phone to your ear. “Max, what the hell—”

“Sorry dat ik zo laat bel,” (sorry for calling at this time) Max's voice was low and slightly slurred with a laugh. “Maar ik zag dat je online was, dus dacht, jij bent nog wakker. Wilde je alleen even een seintje geven dat de kans vrij aannemelijk is dat je vannacht nog dronken appjes krijgt van Lando.” (But I saw that you were online, so I figured you were still awake. Just wanted to give you a heads up that it's very likely that you'll receive some drunk texts from Lando tonight)

You rolled your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. Of course, your twin brother knew exactly what was happening. “De kerel is echt gewoon laveloos en hield zijn mond maar niet dicht over je. De hele rit terug naar zijn apartment bleef hij maar zeuren over hoe hij je moest appen over iets geheimzinnigs. Dacht ik waarschuw je even.” (The guy is absolutely hammered and he wouldn't shut up about you. Kept yapping about how he had to text you about something secretive. Thought it would be nice to warn you)

“Te laat, is al gebeurd” (too late, he already did) you replied with a chuckle, glancing back at Lando's messages. “Had al zo’n vermoeden dat hij dronken was haha.” (I already figured he was drunk)

“Dacht ik al,” (I thought so) Max chuckled. “Hou het een beetje netjes, ja? Ik wil hier niet meer van weten dan ik al doe.” (Please keep it decent, yeah? I don't want to know any more about this than I already do)

You could almost hear the grin in his voice. “Maar ik moest hem echt thuisbrengen, de jongen was niet meer te houden.” (But I just had to bring him home, couldn't keep him at bay anymore)

“Dank je, Max,” (Thanks, Max) you said softly, biting your lip. “Je bent een goede broer.” (You're a good brother)

“Altijd,” (Always) Max replied. “Ik moet wel weer ophangen nu, voordat ik Kelly en P wakker maak. Succes met je dronken vriendje.” (Gotta hang now tho, before I wake up Kelly and P. Good luck with your boyfriend)

“Max, hoe vaak moet ik nog zeggen dat Lando en ik gewoon vrienden zijn” (Max, how often do I have to tell you that Lando and I are just friends) you said, rolling your eyes.

"Als jij jezelf niet zo voor de gek hield, waren jullie al lang samen" (If you didn't keep lying to yourself, you two would have dated a long time already) and with a last chuckle, he hung up.

You flopped back onto your bed, your mind racing, Lando’s texts still staring at you from the screen. Your fingers shook as you picked up your phone again, reading his words over and over, your stomach flipping with nerves and something else, something hotter, more dangerous.

With a deep breath, you tried to shake it off. Lando was just drunk, you told yourself. He didn’t mean it. It didn’t mean anything… Right? But the way your heart fluttered at the thought of him thinking about you like that, the way your skin prickled with excitement at the idea that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way…

You forced yourself to put the phone down, closing your eyes and trying to ignore the wild thoughts racing through your mind. It was late, and you needed to sleep. But as you drifted off, your dreams were anything but peaceful. Lando's words echoed in your mind, and you found yourself imagining all the things he might have done while thinking about you, the way he might have said your name, the way his hands might have—

You woke up, flustered and breathless, your body tingling in a way that was all too familiar. The morning sun was peeking through the curtains, but all you could think about was Lando, and the way his words made you feel things you’d tried so hard to ignore.

Around the same time, somewhere in Monaco, Lando jolts awake.

"Fuck" the single word comes out as a hiss, his head pounding from the hangover. His phone screen glares back at him, a series of messages and a notification from Max catching his blurry gaze. He squints, his heart starting to race as fragmented memories of the night before come flooding back.

He fumbles to unlock his phone, praying he didn’t do what he thinks he did. But the evidence is right there, the bold lettering of your name above the most mortifying message he could ever have sent, full of typos, but easily desiphered as 'Do you have any idea how many times I thought about you… with my hand down my pants?'

“Shit, shit, shit,” he mutters, running a hand through his messy curls, anxiety flooding his system. What the fuck had he done? His fingers move of their own accord, tapping out a frantic apology.

Lando: Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry.

You: Good morning to you too. How is your headache? 😉

He cringes at the situation, a mix of playful and mocking. His mind races, grasping at straws to somehow make this situation less embarrassing.

Lando: I don’t even remember sending that. I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what I was thinking, pretty sure I wasn't thinking at all. I didn’t mean it.

A lie. He did mean it. But he’s not ready to admit that just yet.

You: Oh, you definitely weren’t thinking, lol. But hey, maybe you should apologize to Max too, since you apparently spilled some beans about me to him. 😆

Lando’s eyes widen, horror painting his features. “Oh, fuck,” he groans, rubbing his forehead. He types back, heart racing.

Lando: What did I say? Please tell me I didn’t—

You: Relax, nothing too scandalous. Just enough for Max to find it disgusting.

Despite himself, a small laugh escapes his lips. He can picture Max’s reaction, the exaggerated gagging, the inevitable jokes he’ll have to endure.

Lando: I’m so sorry. Are you mad at me? I don’t want you to think I’m some idiot who can’t control himself.

You: Nah, I’m not mad. You were drunk, it’s not like you meant it anyway, right?

He swallows hard, your words hitting too close to home. A dry response forms on his screen.

Lando: Yeah, sure.

But deep down, he knows it’s not true. He’d thought about you like that more times than he cared to admit, a dangerous longing simmering beneath the surface of your friendship.

You: Hey, at least now I know I looked hot in yesterday’s bikini post.

Heat floods his cheeks. You’re playing it off, but there’s a hint of something in your words, a subtle curiosity. He swallows, fingers hovering over the keyboard before he types back, heart pounding.

Lando: Stating the obvious.

He can’t help the grin tugging at his lips as he imagines your reaction. It’s risky, but you don’t seem upset, and he’s willing to test the waters.

You: Oh? So you think I’m hot?

Lando: Didn’t know that was up for debate.

He’s toeing the line, the thrill of it sending a spark through him.

Lando: U really not mad? I’d hate to make you uncomfortable.

You: Mad? Nah. Flattered, maybe.

He blinks at your response, surprise mingling with a rush of arousal. Flattered? His mind reels, thoughts scrambling as he tries to figure out what to say next.

You: I have to admit tho, when I first got that message, I thought you’d sent something different than my own instagram post…🤭

His breath catches, heart skipping a beat. The implication is clear, and he feels himself growing hard at the mere thought of you expecting a more explicit photo from him. He shifts uncomfortably, typing out a teasing response.

Lando: So, you’re saying you opened it anyway, even though you thought I sent you a spicy picture? 😉

You: Shut up.

He laughs, imagining the flustered look on your face. It’s too easy to picture, and he leans back against his pillows, biting his lip.

Lando: Where are you?

You: In bed. Why?

Lando's breath got caught in his throat. A dangerous idea takes root in his mind, one that’s equally thrilling and terrifying. He knows he should stop, should draw the line before it goes too far. But something in your responses, the playful edge, the hint of curiosity, makes him want to push further.

Lando: Just curious. 😉

His mind races, and before he can second-guess himself, he snaps a quick photo. It’s not much,—just him lying back on his bed, shirt unbuttoned halfway, his abs on display and his hair a mess. He was still wearing the same outfit as yesterday, apparently not changed out of it. But there’s something undeniably suggestive in the way he looks at the camera, the flush on his cheeks, a knowing smile on his lips as he sends it with a caption.

Lando: I can send you one for real if you want to see one.

His heart hammers in his chest as he waits for your response, the seconds dragging by agonizingly slowly. Then your reply comes in, teasing and playful.

You: Kinda daring coming from the guy who was apologizing 10 minutes ago for accidentally sending his best friend a text about thinking about her with his hand down his pants😉

Your words send a thrill through him, the boldness of it, the way you’re not backing down. He can’t resist pushing a little further, fingers trembling with anticipation.

Lando: You didn’t seem too disgusted by it.

The moment stretches out, his breath catching as he waits for your reply. The tightness in his dress pants becoming significantly worde.

When it comes, it’s more than he expected. 

You: I wasn’t. Actually, it was kinda hot.🫣

His eyes widen, arousal spiking as he reads your words again and again, disbelieving. Is this really happening? 

Lando: Yeah?

You: Yeah.

He swallows hard, a wicked idea forming in his mind. He glances down at the growing bulge in his pants, his arousal straining against the fabric. His hand moves almost on its own, snapping a quick picture of his hand palming himself through his dress pants, the outline of his erection unmistakable.

Lando: What about this? Still hot?

Your response is almost immediate.

You: Fuck, yes.

The words send a shiver down his spine, desire flaring as he imagines your reaction, the way you must be looking at your phone. He wants more, needs more.

Lando: Your turn.

There’s a pause, then a photo comes through. His breath hitches at the sight of you, flushed and flustered, the soft curve of your cleavage visible just above the red lace of your bra. It wasn't too naughty, but enough to send Lando reeling. 

He groans, his hand moving down to rub himself through his pants, a low moan escaping him as he imagines what’s beneath that thin fabric.

Lando: Fuck, babe, you’re killing me.

You: Good.

The playfulness in your response only fuels his desire, and he knows he should stop, should take a breath before this spirals out of control. But he doesn’t want to. Instead, he hits record on his camera, aiming it down at his crotch as he begins to palm himself through the fabric.

The video is short, just a few seconds of him rubbing himself, a low groan slipping from his lips. He ends it with a whispered “fuck,” his hand slipping beneath the waistband of his pants to give himself a teasing stroke before the video cuts off.

He sends it without thinking, heart racing as he imagines you watching it, the way your breath might hitch, the way you might bite your lip.

You: You’re really enjoying that, huh?

His breath hitched at your words, every sensation heightened as he slowly works himself up and down inside his dress pants, unable to contain the soft groans leaving his lips.

Lando: I do. Feels amazing... I wish you were here with me.

His hand is shaking now as he types out his next message, his arousal growing with every word.

Lando: Show me more.

There’s a beat of silence, and then another picture comes through. This one is more daring, more revealing. You’re under the blankets, one leg exposed, the other hidden beneath the covers. The waistband of your red panties is just visible above the edge of your blanket, your hand resting suggestively on your lower stomach, fingers reaching just into your panties.

Lando: Fuck, babe, that's so hot

Lando's breath catches as he stares at the photo you sent, his mind racing with all the things he wants to say, all the things he wants to do. He decided to take the leap and press the button to send you a facetime request. You accept it almost immediately, his heart pounding as your face fills the screen. You look flustered, lips slightly parted, and he swallows hard.

“Hi,” you say, your voice breathless, almost shy.

“You’re really fucking beautiful, you know that?” Lando murmurs, his voice thick with desire as he admired your flushed face.

You blush, your eyes darting away from the screen for a moment before you look back at him. “I think you’re the one who’s supposed to be embarrassed right now, not me.”

He grins, the playful tone of your voice sending another jolt of arousal through him. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty embarrassed. But I’m also…” He hesitates, his gaze dropping down for a moment before he meets your eyes again, his voice dropping to a lower, huskier tone. “... really turned on.”

Your breath catches, and he watches as you shift on the bed, the movement causing the camera to reveal a little bit more of your cleavage and the red lace bra you were wearing. His eyes are drawn to the exposed skin, mesmerized by your body.

“What are you wearing?” The question slips out before he can stop it, his eyes dark with desire.

You glance down at yourself, then back at him, a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Not much.”

He groans, his hand tightening around his phone. As he speaks, his other hand drifts back down, brushing over the ever-growing bulge in his pants again. “Can I see?” The words are thick with anticipation, his voice trembling slightly as he palms himself, the sensation sending a wave of pleasure through him. He bites his lip, letting out a quiet moan that he can’t quite suppress.

You hesitate, your teeth worrying your bottom lip as you consider his request. Then, slowly, you change your camera angle and pull the blanket down just a little, revealing the soft skin of your stomach, the red lace of your panties, the soft curve of your thigh. Lando feels a jolt of arousal shooting through him, and he has to bite back a groan. It’s just enough to tease, to make him want more. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” His voice is rough, strained, as he shifts on the bed, the fabric of his pants suddenly feeling too tight, too restrictive. His hand presses harder against his length, his breath hitching as the friction sends sparks of pleasure shooting through him.

You giggle, your eyes sparkling with a mix of nervousness and excitement. “You like what you see?”

“Like?” He shakes his head, his eyes glued to the screen. “I fucking love it.”

Your cheeks flush a deeper red, and you lean back a little, giving him an even better view of your body. His mouth goes dry as he takes in the sight of you, the way the red lace clings to your skin, the hint of cleavage peeking out from beneath your bra. He can see the way your chest rises and falls with each breath, the anticipation, the arousal clear in your eyes.

“Your turn,” you murmur, your voice barely more than a whisper, but it’s enough to send his heart racing.

He doesn’t need to be told twice. With one hand still holding his phone, he shifts back on the bed, his other hand moving to the waistband of his pants. His fingers fumble with the button, his hands shaking slightly as he pops it open, his eyes never leaving your face.

Your breath hitches as he unzips his pants, his erection straining against the fabric of his boxers. He pauses for a moment, his eyes flicking up to yours, seeking permission. When you nod, he slides his hand into his boxers, his breath coming out in a shaky exhale as he wraps his fingers around his length.

“Fuck…” The word slips out as he strokes himself slowly, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment before he forces them open again, needing to see your reaction. His voice trembles, laced with a mix of desire and restraint, each moan escaping his lips growing louder as he quickens his pace.

Your eyes are wide, your lips slightly parted as you watch him, your hand moving down towards your panties on their own accord, fingers brushing lightly over the fabric “Fuck, that's hot, Lando…”

He groans at the sound of his name on your lips, his boxers now pushed low enough to reveal his cock, hand moving faster, the friction sending sparks of pleasure shooting through him. “Touch yourself for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick with desire. “Please.”

You bite your lip, waiting just a moment before you slip your hand beneath the waistband of your panties, a soft gasp escaping you as your fingers make contact. The sight of you, the way your body arches slightly, the soft, breathless sounds you make, is almost too much for him.

“Fuck, babe, you’re so fucking hot…” His voice is barely more than a growl as he watches you, his own hand moving faster, the pleasure building inside him, threatening to spill over.

“What would you do to me if I was right there?” you ask, your voice a breathless whisper.

His eyes darken, his grip tightening around himself. “I’d start by kissing you, slowly… working my way down your body.” His voice is rough, each word laced with longing. “I’d touch you everywhere, make you feel so good. Then I’d…” his words getting cut off by his own moan.

“Tell me,” you encourage, your own voice trembling with need.

“I’d bury my face between your legs, make you scream my name,” he groans, his strokes becoming more erratic as he imagines it, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “F-Fuck, I want you so bad.”

You moan at his words, your fingers moving faster as you picture it, your body aching for his touch. “Lando, I…”

“Keep going,” he whispers, his voice thick with desire. “Tell me what you’d do to me.”

“I’d touch you,” you breathe, your voice trembling as your fingers move in sync with his. “I’d wrap my fingers around you, just like you’re doing now… make you feel so good, Lan”

He whimpers at your words, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he imagines it, the sensation of your touch almost too real. “Fuck, Y/N, I need you…”

“Imagine it’s my hand, Lan” you whisper, your voice laced with seduction. “Imagine I’m right there with you…”

His moans grow louder, his hips bucking into his hand as he follows your words, his mind filled with nothing but thoughts of you. “I’m so close…”

“Me too,” you whisper, your breath hitching as you feel the pleasure building, your body trembling with anticipation.

“God, you’re amazing,” he pants, his voice filled with praise as he watches you, every movement driving him closer to the edge. “You’re so perfect… I want you so bad…”

Your voice is a breathless moan as you reach the brink, your body arching off the bed as the pleasure consumes you "F-Fuck, Lan, I'm coming"

“Fuck, baby, I’m right there with you…” His voice is ragged, his body tensing as he teeters on the edge, every muscle tightening in anticipation. You watch, breathless, as his hand moves faster, more desperately, his grip tightening around his length.

Then, with a strangled moan, he tips over the edge. His hips jerk, and his head falls back against the pillows as he cums, thick ropes of it spilling out and covering his abdomen. You can see the way his abs contract with each pulse, his hand still working himself through every last wave of pleasure, milking himself until he’s spent. His eyes remain locked on yours, his breathing heavy, a mixture of satisfaction and lingering desire in his gaze as you both ride the waves of your shared climax.

For a few moments, the only sound is your ragged breathing, both of you staring at each other through the screen, the intensity of what just happened hanging heavy in the air.

“Fuck…” He laughs breathlessly, his head falling back against the pillows as he runs a hand through his hair. “That was…”

“Amazing,” you finish for him, your own laughter bubbling up, your cheeks still flushed, your body still trembling slightly from the aftershocks. “Holy shit, Lando…”

“Yeah.” He grins, his heart still racing as he looks at you, the reality of what you just did slowly sinking in. “Are you… okay?”

You nod, your smile softening as you look at him. “Yeah, I’m okay. More than okay.”

His heart swells at your words, relief flooding through him. He’s about to say something else when you shift on the bed, the blanket slipping down a little further, giving him a glimpse of your bare shoulder.

“Lando,” you murmur, your eyes meeting his through the screen, a mischievous glint in your gaze. “If that was just a taste, I can’t wait to see what happens when we’re see each other again.”

The promise in your words sends a shiver down his spine, his mind racing at the thought of having you, really having you, right in front of him. 

“Fuck, Y/N, you have no idea what you’re doing to me…” His voice is a low whisper, his eyes still dark with desire.

“Maybe I have an idea,” you tease, your smile widening as you settle back against the pillows, your gaze never leaving his. “When I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe you should pick me up from the airport... and then we can do this again, but then in real life”

His heart skips a beat at your words, excitement and anticipation flooding through him. “You mean that?”

You nod, your smile softening, your eyes filled with a tenderness that makes his chest ache. “Yeah, I mean that. I want you, Lando. All of you.”

His breath catches, the sincerity in your voice, the way you’re looking at him, making his heart race. He knows, in that moment, that this isn’t just about sex, about fulfilling a desire that’s been simmering beneath the surface for years. It’s about more, so much more.

“Y/N… there’s something else I need to tell you,” he says, his voice steady but laced with emotion.

Your gaze softens, sensing the seriousness in his tone. “What is it, Lando?”

He hesitates for just a moment, gathering his thoughts before he continues. “I’ve been in love with you for so long. It’s not just about my text last night or about what we just did. I've been feeling like this for a while. It’s everything. Every time we’ve laughed together, every time you’ve supported me, every time I’ve seen you smile... I’ve been falling for you more and more.”

You feel your heart swell at his words, a warmth spreading through your chest. Finally ready to admit it out loud. “Lando... I’ve felt the same way. I’ve just been too scared to admit it.”

He lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, relief washing over him. “You have no idea how happy that makes me. I’ve wanted to say something for so long, but I was afraid I’d ruin what we have.”

“You haven’t ruined anything,” you say softly. “If anything, you’ve made it better.”

A wide smile spreads across his face, his eyes shining with emotion. “I’ve never been so thankful for getting drunk.”

You laugh, the sound light and filled with joy. “Me neither, Lando. Me neither.”

There’s a moment of comfortable silence, both of you just taking in the reality of what’s been confessed.

“So… when I fly back to Monaco in a few days, maybe we could start something real?” you suggest, your voice hopeful.

“I’d like that,” he replies, his heart swelling with happiness. “I’d like that a lot.”

“Then it’s a plan,” you say, a smile tugging at your lips.

"God, I wish I could kiss you now" he whispered, a small hint of disappointment in his voice.

And with that, you both know that this is just the beginning of something truly special, something that’s been waiting to happen for far too long.

Sequel

Masterlist

[glow-in-the-dark-death]

Here Comes The Bride

Danny didn't mean to accidentally make the people of Gotham think he was a new rogue!

This was all Sam & Tuckers fault!

He had barely managed to mention how he was thinking about maybe wearing a wedding dress instead of a suit for their wedding before they rushed him out the house.

What for?

To go to every wedding dress store in existence apparently, or at least it felt that way.

How does this lead up to being confused for a new rogue?

Well apparently doing questionable things or in other words regular "Fenton Shenanigans TM" in a wedding dress in Gotham got you on the "New Rogue Radar" apparently.

Sam & Tucker don't even care about all the chaos (they do, they're highly enjoying it) they're just continuing to get him inside more dresses and veils.

Mercy please

~

Tucker & Sam: " This one would make your shoulders look great and- oh! This one has such pretty detailing!"

Danny under a mountain of wedding dresses and other things: *muffled voice* "Whatever you want my loves."

~

Gothamites watching/recording Danny in full wedding getup beat up people with Sam and Tucker nearby both with an armful of more wedding dresses: "Ha no I choose life."

~

Danny ruined his outfit while fighting: "I sense danger to my sanity."

Tucker & Sam behind him: (つ✧ω✧)つ "MORE SHOPPING!"

~

Danny in Gotham like:

~

Just an Idea

[cosycafune]

LOVE MAKING

⚝──⭒─⭑─⭒──⚝ corruption runs deeply within sylus, in the eyes of you -- his prey. you’re always beneath sylus, fucked deliriously until your sanity is splattered. however, it's time for you to finally corrupt the estranged ruler. you yearn for, onychinus, to beg for you for the first time. until he’s a broken mess, corrupted for a sweet, addictive you. if you are not careful, things could get rough; sylus is an insatiable beast.

acts: breeding kink, rough sex, smut without plot, creampies, hickeys, corruption kink, spanking, unprotected sex, bondage, power dynamics, orgasms, riding, degrading, mentions of wet dreams and potentially more. mdni 18+. masterlist.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

STRADDLING a tied-down Sylus, you sadistically grin. Inevitably, the Onychinus leader remains beneath you – contradicting his strength. Currently, you’d do anything for his vulnerable state to be flaunted, for others to see the twinkle in his crimson eyes – waiting for you to make him plead for you. Plead for a nude, goddess-like you to pulverise a hickey-stained, reddened him.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” Grinning, Sylus admires your plump breasts above him – his question filled with mesmerisation.

“Seeing you beneath me is hot,” Smitten, you sultry speak, “You’re covered in hickeys, desperate, covered in your cum, and not a drop is in me.” Chuckling, you softly shift back – allowing Sylus’ cock to be teased by your slick folds.

“So, my sweet Sylus, what do you want?” Harshly grinding against his monstrous cock, you taunt him – filled with a bursting fever of lust.

“I want all of you,” Sylus whimpers out, completely compelled by your siren-influenced cunt – grinding against his cock so beautifully.

“Beg for it, baby,” Enthralled by Sylus’ compliance, you softly moan – poking at his loose restraint.

At any moment, he’s capable of breaking out – fulfilling your cruel game of cat and mouse.

“Sweetie, please,” With his features scrunched up, Sylus’ tone comes out lightly – murky at the feeling of your tempting cunt.

“Say it again…Sy’,” Purring, you continue to grind against him — gaining satisfaction from his compliance.

“Please,” Growing impatient, Sylus simply smirks. 

Subconsciously, he pleaded with you as his swollen lips helplessly parted — lust and deep-rooted yearning coating him. Sylus longed for so much more, no matter the destructive price that lingered before his eyes.

“Tell me why I should give you all of me?” 

Mocking Sylus, you moan and harshly groan — trembling at Sylus impulsively spanking your ass.

A loud echo thuds through his bedroom.

“Please—”

“You’re being bad, Sy’,” Close to losing authority, you roughly murmur — mewling at Sylus grasping your ass cheeks.

Impossibly close, Sylus whimpers extensively — gathering a slither of pleasure. Pleasure from the fat tip of his cock coddling your entrance, prodding against the warmth. Warmth Sylus desperately craves, but you wickedly deprived him of something he wants the most.

He’s a feral beast, desperate for all of you.

“Please, just this,” At his wit’s end, Sylus releases a straggled moan — subtle anger tinting his voice.

“How can the leader of the N109 zone be so whiny?” Teasing Sylus, your glassy eyes widen at Sylus’ intimidating aura seeping into his firm touch.

“You’re in control now, but don’t push your limits,” Sneering, Sylus frustratingly warns you — burrowing his fingers within your bubble butt.

“I’m in control,” Solidifying your authority, you grasp onto Sylus’ thick cock — allowing it to kiss upon your entrance.

“Just a little more,” Sylus evolves whiny beneath you, pleading for you to sink down onto his throbbing cock.

“You’ve earned it,” Thrilled by Sylus’ obedience, you gently mutter — beginning to swallow the tip of Sylus’ cock.

Regardless, you knew your robes of control would be reformed by an eager Sylus. The delirious look in his crimson eyes confirmed your thoughts, particularly with his eyes beginning to flutter. Flutter as you handle more than just his large tip, being expanded by his unethical cock.

“‘Need me… to take over?” Groaning, Sylus’ eyes roll back — slowing the pacing of his inquiry.

“Ngh! I…got this!” Struggling, you almost topple over — attempting to reassure Sylus.

“Do…you?” Relishing your struggle, Sylus buries himself further within a gasping you — aware that you always struggle with riding him.

“Ah! Yes!” Feeling Sylus’ cock so deeply inside of your cunt, you instinctively cry out with delight — itching to finally conquer all of him.

“Feel… all of me,” Attempting to take control, Sylus begins to softly thrust within you — his strained statement consuming you.

“N-No, ‘m in…control,” Sluggishly countering Sylus, you begin to gently bounce upon his perfectly-crafted cock — riddled with worship.

“Mhm, t-take… me like that, s-sweetie,” Mindlessly encouraging you, Sylus begins to shudder beneath you.

Confused, Sylus only lowly grunts at you reaching for his hands upon your toned hips. Idolising a riding you, Sylus’ consciousness disregards you using your disregarded underwear to tie his hands together. Naturally, you wanted him to feel helpless — mentally destroying himself to gather all of your celestial cunt.

“Look…at you,” Faintly grinning, your eyes roll back with your distorted taunting.

Reigning over a flustered Sylus, you succumb to his thick cock hungrily ramming into you. Ramming into you at a pace that completely swallows your sanity, leaving your rationality in the powerful arms of Sylus. Even with his hands tied up, Sylus couldn’t help but eradicate your gushy cunt with each thrust — indirectly claiming his ownership of you.

“Sweetie,” Proud of your dominant streak, voicing it, Sylus allows you to entwine with his momentum.

“‘Can’t…Ah! handle…Sy’,” Crying, you push yourself past your sexual limits — moments away from finishing.

“Hm, s-same,” Purring, Sylus mewls loudly — suffocated by your cunt pulverising his throbbing cock.

“‘Deep…” Falling silent, you subconsciously finish harshly on Sylus’ cock — distorted by how warm you feel.

���T-Tight, sweetie,” Sylus murmurs, physically buzzing with pleasure. 

Unable to handle himself, Sylus begins to plug your pouring cunt with more of his cock. More of his cock in an attempt to swell you with his seed, sacrificing everything with how good you pulverise him. Longing, lust, and devotion writhe so deeply within Sylus — stripping him of his restraint.

Harshness adorns every aspect of Sylus’ pounding. Not a hint of mercy paints his ravenous cock, driving him into stuffing himself impossibly further into your squelchy cunt. Each sound, each struggle moan from you, stirred a gluttonous Sylus on — leaving him to finally have his way with you.

“Hope…you get pregnant,” Sylus recklessly blurts out, thrusting his deepest within you before spilling every spurt of his seed inside of you.

“Ah!” Trembling, your sleepy eyes widen at Sylus’ impossible harsh shots of cum beating against your cunt.

Guess who’s begging now?

—

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[exhausted-eternally]

god i'm so tired of feeling like a waste of space like i'm sorry i've got a jury-rigged pile of shit for a brain, i promise i am even less thrilled with it than you are

[futurewdclandonorris]

Workout | Lando Norris⁴

Pairings: Lando Norris x fem!reader

Summary: Lando and you have different ideas on working from home

Warnings: smut is my plot, unprotected sex, long read (2.9k+ words)

A/N: ending is filthy, in a way. I need to be drenched in holy water and restrained from writing smut from now on for my own sanity.

It was one of those days when Lando and you didn’t feel like leaving the house even though you still had things to do. With that in mind, you decided to work from home and well, Lando also decided to work from home. Workout. In front of you and your laptop.

Lando started his warm up long before you settled on the living room couch. Walking past him with your computer under your arm, you murmured “I can think of a better workout.” very nonchalantly.

He perked up, his eyebrows shooting up and bliss of curiosity filled his green eyes. He crawled to you on his knees and tilted his head like a puppy. “What-What do you mean?”

You peeked at him over the screen of your laptop. If this was a cartoon, you’d be able to see question marks pop up above his head, but he was just smiling stupidly at you.

“Nothing.” you said at last, averting your eyes back to the screen.

He gave you a confused look, murmuring an “alright” before jumping straight into it. You let a silent groan of frustration. Sitting with your laptop on your knees with a good view of him, how could he not get it?

As Lando continued his workout routine, you couldn't help but steal glances at him every so often. His muscular form was enticing, and you couldn't help but feel a certain heat building within you. You tried to ignore the feeling, tried to focus on your work, but it was no use. Lando's movements were hypnotizing, and you found yourself getting lost in your own thoughts, watching him over the rim of the screen.

There was a bead of sweat gliding down his forehead, that you followed so closely, sliding down to the side of his face to his neck and finally disappearing under his shirt that was already sticking to his body.

You cleared your throat, trying to shake off the thoughts that were clouding your judgment. Lando didn't seem to notice, still focused on his workout. You let out a soft sigh, feeling the heat between your legs intensify. Typing your fingers off, you tried to distract (and fool) yourself by pretending to be oh so busy, but if someone asked what it is that you’re working on, you wouldn’t be able to tell them.

However, you’d be able to tell them how you wish his sweat would mingle with yours, your bodies entwined, and both of you gasping for air. His muscular arms wrapped around your body, hot breath on your neck as he whispered dirty things in your ear--Ugh! Such thoughts caused another frustrated groan to escape you, and not a silent one this time. Averting his eyes to you, that finally seemed to catch his attention.

“You know,” he said, a mischievous grin spreading across his face. “I think I know what you meant earlier.”

“Oh, yeah?” you raised your eyebrows, trying to act unfazed, looking back at your laptop.

“Yeah, and it won’t be too long before I finish and give you all the attention you need.”

“Careful, don’t overwork yourself. We don’t want you to get injured.” you warned in a playful manner.

“Of course not, that’s why you’ll be doing all the work.” that finally made you snap your eyes to him to meet his grinning face followed with a wink while he bent over to one side, doing his stretches.

You couldn't deny the heat that flared within you at his words. Lando had always known how to push your buttons, and you couldn't help but feel the sudden urge to give in to his desires. With a deep inhale, you set your laptop aside and walked over to him. Lando's eyes widened in surprise as you straddled him, your hands gripping his sweat-drenched shirt.

"Is this what you want?" you whispered in his ear, grinding your hips against his. He let out a low groan, his hands finding their way to your waist.

"I thought you were busy." he teased, his lips trailing down your neck.

"I am. Busy wanting you." you moaned, your fingers finding their way to his sweaty curls and pulling him into a heated kiss.

The lips that met yours were softer than you imagined, and tasted like salt, sweat and the mint of his toothpaste. You could feel his hard muscles pressed against your body, and you moaned softly as he nibbled on your bottom lip. He pulled you closer by the waist, your lips moving in perfect sync, tongues exploring each other's mouths as the heat between you grew more intense.

Breaking the kiss, you looked at him with lust-filled eyes. "I want you, Lando," you breathed out, trailing your hand down his chest.

He didn't need any more encouragement. Lando stood up and carried you to the bedroom. He laid down with you on top of him. His hands went up your shirt, sliding slowly up your skin and making you shiver. You could feel your bra rubbing against your sensitive nipples, and the sensation combined with Lando's lips against your neck, his tongue teasing you, and his hands on your waist was enough to drive you crazy.

He pulled your shirt over your head and unclasped your bra all at once. Your nipples hardened at the draft of cool air that raced down your body. He brushed his fingers over them, circling your nipples slowly before finally teasing your areolas and pulling on them gently.

"God, you're so hot." he moaned, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth while his fingers teased the other.

"Make me hotter." you moaned back, grinding your hips against his while pulling him closer.

"I can do that." he smirked, his hand finding its way down your pants to rub against your soaked panties.

"Don't tease me." you moaned, your head falling back.

Even with you on top of him, Lando was the dominant one. You were his to enjoy, his to use. His to play with. He pulled your panties aside and slid a finger inside you. You moaned at the sudden intrusion, your back arching back from the pleasure. His tongue circled your elicited nipple before he bit it teasingly. His free hand played with your free nipple, pinching it and rolling it between his fingers.

Pulling his left hand out of your panties, he finished unbuttoning your pants and tugged down on them, wanting to take them off. You got the message and got off him for a split second in order to do so. That gave him an open window to remove his shirt and settle flat on the bed.

“Sit on my face.” he ordered.

You stopped undressing. You could feel the heat rushing into your cheeks and you shyly put down your head, looking away. It was something you’ve never done. Not with Lando, not with anyone. Butterflies in your stomach flew like crazy. You finally felt brave to look at him, your lips parting slightly. He noticed your hesitation and smiled.

"Trust me." his hand found yours, his thumb caressing the back of yours.

You could see the innocence in his eyes, as if he had no idea what you were so afraid of. You quickly pulled your panties off, and without hesitation, straddled his face, your legs on either side of his head, and glided upwards. The sight of him under you, his cheeks caressing your thighs, his lips curled into a smile made you shudder pleasantly.

Lando's hands held your hips, his thumbs teasing your waist, urging you to go on. Your body was tingling all over, and you felt like you were about to explode. Suddenly, you dropped your hips, making Lando moan between your legs. You could feel his lips against your inner thighs. His hands found their way to your ass, his fingers digging into your soft flesh.

“Fuck, you're so wet.” he groaned, his tongue licking up every inch of you, reaching your clit in an instant.

No wonder, you thought; it was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You moaned as his tongue circled it slowly, stopping every now and then to flick it. He let out a deep groan, and you could feel his tongue vibrating against your clit. You started grinding yourself against his face, feeling yourself already on the edge. You gripped at his hair as he pushed a finger inside you, slowly and gently. He sucked on your clit and pulled it into his mouth to tease it with his tongue.

He moved his tongue to your entrance and began licking your walls before moving back to your clit. It was enough to make you lose control. The pleasure from his tongue and fingers sent you over the edge, your entire body spasming as you came hard against his mouth, only his strong arms preventing you from moving forward.

"Fuck." you moaned as you caught your breath, leaning down on him.

"Turn around.” he lightly tapped your ass, a devilish grin on his face.

Your breath hitched and lips parted as if you wanted something to say, but decided against it. You could feel your cheeks burning red. You gulped down heavily and turned around. These things are not something you plan, they just happen.

Lando held you in place by the hips as you sat on his face once more, his tongue reaching your clit almost instantly. You let out a loud moan, gripping onto the sheets. His tongue circled it, flicking it before he sucked on it. He pushed his tongue inside you, licking your walls in soft, sensual motions.

Your hands found the waistband of his shorts and slid it down quickly enough alongside with his boxers. His erection sprung free, long and hard, and your eyes widened at the sight of it. But you had no time to waste admiring him for you already gripped him in your hand.

“Mm, good girl.” Lando moaned against you, proud that you got the message. “Keep going.”

You began stroking his length slowly at first, still getting used to the feeling. But it didn’t take long until you were moving your hand in sync with his tongue, guiding his head to your clit. Lando let out a low groan as you slid your hand up and down, your grip tightening at every slow motion, your hand sliding up to the tip before going all the way down again.

He kept licking you, his tongue sliding in and out of your entrance, and his hands gripped your hips, pushing you down harder against his face. You let out a loud moan as he pushed the tip of his tongue against your g-spot, sliding it up and down. His hands slid up your thighs, slowly making their way to your hips and ass.

You decided it was your turn to tease him now. Sticking out your tongue, you ran it over his head.

“Fuck,” Lando hissed, his head falling onto the mattress, but only momentarily.

His hip bucked up, begging you to take more of him. You took him inside your mouth, letting your tongue explore every inch of his shaft. You slowly licked your way up and down, feeling him get more and more excited. You could feel his hands pulling you closer to him, desperate for more. You moved faster and faster, taking a little more of him each time until you couldn’t possibly fit any more. You pulled back, his dick wet with your saliva. You slid up again, letting his erection slide between your lips before finally taking him into your mouth once more.

His movements on your pussy slowed down, but his tongue was as hard as ever, teasing your clit and lips with every lick. He let his hands slide up your back and down again, his fingers teasing your ass. One of his fingers circled your entrance before putting pressure on it. It took you aback for a moment. You took him out of your mouth, letting your breaths calm down a little. You could feel his erection pulsing against your wrist. You felt yourself getting closer to orgasm already.

“Fuck, I’m going to cum!” you moaned, your hand squeezing now as you stroked him faster.

“Good. Give it to me.” he grunted, his tongue never stopping its movement, his lips still sucking on your clit.

The pressure was getting unbearable. You could feel him suck harder on your clit as he stroked you faster, your hand matching his rhythm.

“Lando.” you moaned his name as you felt yourself approaching the edge.

He groaned as he sucked on you, your juices spilling onto his face and tongue. You came with a loud moan and trembling body.

Constantly panting and moaning, you watched as Lando turned around and sat against the headboard. He unhooked your legs from around his head and brought you up so that you were sitting on his lap. He leaned against the headboard and pulled you towards him, your legs spread wide around his hips, your back to his chest. You let out a moan and shuddered as his erection slid along your folds.

“What do you want? I can make you feel good.” he whispered in your ear, his fingers teasing your clit.

"Fuck me." you whispered as you turned around, facing him.

You could tell by his look that he had a devilish grin on his face, and you couldn't help but smile back. You could feel yourself getting wet again as he slowly pushed himself inside you. You moaned as he filled you up inch by inch, his hands on your breasts, teasing your nipples. He let out a grunt of pleasure as he filled you all the way up.

"Fuck.” his whisper was already strained.

"Fuck me as hard as you can.” you breathed out heavily, hissing every time he moved inside you.

“Baby, I have to slow down.” he chuckled.

"For fuck’s sake,” you groaned, taking the matters into your own hands.

Turning to face him, you slid him inside you, all the way to the hilt. He moaned, a throaty, almost animalistic moan. He pounded his head back into the headboard, his hands digging into your skin even harder. You could hear him groaning, his body tensing under you.

You smirked, pulling out of him slowly. So that’s how you’re playing this, huh?

You slid out of him once more, only to slam down again. His head fell back against the mattress, his fingers digging into your skin even harder. You repeated the motion a few more times, each time loving his reaction to you teasing him.

“You still want to slow down, baby?” you arched your brow, smirking.

“Fuck me, baby, come on.” Lando groaned heavily, his head hanging from the side, unable to focus his eyes on you.

You took his arousal in your hands and pushed yourself down on him, his tip hitting you deep. You took a moment to let your body adjust to his girth before you began pounding yourself on him. He growled lowly as you kept going. You slipped a hand between your bodies and began rubbing your clit. His chest was heaving as he let out low moans, his fingers digging into your skin.

“Harder.” he grunted out, his hands sliding down to your hips.

You nodded and obeyed, slamming down onto him as hard as you could. You could feel it getting harder for you to keep up with the rhythm. Your muscles started to tense up. Your lips parted as you let out a soft moan. You could feel his tip pressing deep into you, hitting your g-spot with every thrust. You kept moving faster, letting your clit grind against his pelvic bone every now and then. His hands found your hair and he grabbed a chunk of it. He pulled on it, using it as leverage to straighten himself up and meet your face.

“God, you’re so tight.” his breaths were shaky and his voice pitched higher. You could tell he was close, so you moved your hips faster, stroking him harder.

"And you're so loud." you teased, wanting to hear him scream.

He didn't say anything, but pulled on your hair again, a silent affirmation of what you had just stated. You loved the sensation. He pulled harder, his other hand scratching your back. You could tell that his orgasm was close.

“Fuck!” he hissed loudly, his whole body tensing beneath you.

“Cum for me. Cum for me, Lando, baby,” you said in a low voice as you kept moving, his cock pulsing inside you.

He let out a loud groan as you felt his release taking over. His hands pulled on your hair and his cock tensed, shooting his hot cum deep inside you. His release filled you up, spilling out of you. You felt your muscles tense again. His load shot out of you, dripping down his shaft. You could feel his cock throbbing as more of his cum spilled out. You moaned loudly, your muscles twitching. Lando let out a final groan as your own orgasm took hold of you.

Lando’s hands slid down your body slowly until he reached your hips. He slowly let go of your hair, still panting heavily. You sat down on his lap, still straddling him. You looked into his eyes and you couldn't help but smile.

“That was a good workout.”

“Maybe I should consider doing this routine more often.”

“Maybe.” you sneakily smirked, kissing his chest.

[snghnlvr]

come on baby, don’t say that. / park sunghoon

park sunghoon x fem reader

synopsis : you were curious whether or not your boyfriend was a possessive type so you tested it out.

includes: 1.4k words | fluff 4 sunghoon stans (aka me) , suggestive ending oohooolala | VAMP SUNGHOON | zb1 taerae appearance! | sunghoon is a menace but so is y/n… grrr possessive sunghoon … | both are simps but cuties patooties <33

extra: his part in the baby shark movie lives in my mind 24/7, i hear it everywhere anytime and it’s making me LOSE my damn sanity | the ONE fansign video of op asking questions to sunghoon about dating ggggrrrrrrr | literally last minute drabble i had , it was supposed to be posted for my birthday but studies got in the way .. ew studies…:// | en o’ clock reference⁉️

likes, comments and reposts are very appreciated <3

[below the cut]

curiosity perhaps did kill the cat.

you wore your favorite dress (also sunghoon’s favorite dress), styled your favorite into a bun with two strands on each side of your face, wore makeup to emphasize your face features and wore your favorite ruffled socks to put your loafers on.

you dolled yourself so much just for sunghoon’s attention, but on the bright side you felt pretty all dressed up.

you didn’t know what was purpose of doing this to yourself up when you didn’t have any plans.

one day, bored in your living room of both you and sunghoon’s apartment, you came across a video on your foryou page about possessive behavior in someone’s partner. it made you think about your boyfriend’s behavior; curiosity overwhelming your thoughts. you tried to imagine what your boyfriend will do if these scenarios were to happen.

so, you planned out a script - going to the movie theatre with your male friend, eating with your male friend, etc. ; literally spending a whole day with a male friend. heck, you can’t imagine doing those things with a male other than sunghoon. you don’t even have money in your wallet right now.

you’ve always known sunghoon as a quiet yet clingy type of boyfriend. he wasn’t openly expressive with his clinginess he would be subtle. even with that itself it made your heart pound like crazy. but you wanted to take a step further on how clingy he could get.

you stepped out of the room, already seeing sunghoon lying around in the living room couch with his eyes glued to the tv. his eyes immediately diverted to you, getting your loafers out in front of the door.

“where are you going?” he asked, his eyes scanning to your dressed up figure. you knew he was shamelessly checking you out. it made your heart flutter and somehow boosted up your ego. but you shouldn’t be phased by his attractive face.

he wanted to compliment you but he spoke without thinking. he wonders where your gorgeous self is going especially with that little dress you owned that he loves on your body. he wonders what was the special occasion.

you put on a soft smile while adjusting your shoes. you noticed that sunghoon stood up, eyes still checking you out and wonders how such a dress curves your body so well.

sunghoon had a small smirk with his hands on his pocket, abandoning the pillow on his lap. it flopped next to him.

you smelt sunghoon’s signature scent of musk and a blend of roses. he wore his favorite grey hoodie that was stained with his cologne. it was because you would borrow it.

now that sunghoon was in front of you, he continue to look at you as his arms slowly wrapped around your waist. that’s when you spoke. “mhm just going out.” you spoke sweetly to sunghoon but he kept you against the wall as the door was right next to the both of you but you didn’t comment. you knew he was trapping you.

“with who?” you noticed how sunghoon raised an eyebrow and how his expression slowly changed into a sad one that he wasn’t the person you’re going out with.

“just a friend of mine.” you looked up to sunghoon and noticed how your answer didn’t satisfied him so you pushed it further. “a male friend of mine.” you placed a hand on his chest, lightly playing with the strings of his hoodie.

“excuse me?” sunghoon spoke, slightly amused because usually you would hang out with your female friends.

your heart was starting to exhilarate when his voice octaves dropped. “hanbin? mark? jisung?” he started rambling of the guy friends that you had on the top of his head.

you were surprised at how many he remembered. is that a good thing?

sunghoon noticed your eyes widening so he took a deep breath and placed a soft smile that seemed a bit fake from your perspective.

“don’t go.”

what a contrast.

you almost snickered when you noticed sunghoon’s lips twitching, trying to lee his smile still but his hands wrapped around your waist, wrapped further until his hands reached his elbows. you were cold to him, close enough that your hands on his chest was the only barrier separating you two.

you found it somehow adorable to see him pouting.

you copied him. “taerae and i planned to go out and work work on our project for a while now.” you mentally apologized for using your friend’s name on the spot but you panicked to make something new on top of your head.

“where are you guys going?” you couldn’t handle sunghoon’s stare despite dating him so you looked down towards his buff chest. sometime about his stare sparked jealousy and agitated but he kept his mouth shut.

“we planned to watch a movie theatre together then a cafe and then the library.”

“alone?”

“yeah..”

you swore when you looked up at sunghoon, he was frozen, mouth apart as he was speechless. his eyes started to twitch. he then blinked at you multiple times to see if you were joking.

well, you were. but you kept a serious face on which didn’t show any sort of crackling.

“it sounds more like a date.” you can tell his whiny tone with his words, lips pouting that made you want to pinch his cheeks but you held back.

you shook his head. “why would i have a date with taerae when i can have with you?” you tilted your head, chuckling at his remark. “you’re literally my boyfriend.” you giggled lightly.

sunghoon sighed. “then don’t go. i’ll help you with the project instead, heck i’ll go to taerae instead of you.” his eyes were showing pettiness that you can’t help but lightly giggle. you saw sunghoon’s grumpy expression as he kept you close to him.

you poked at his birth mole under his eye. “boop.” were the words you let out but it didn’t phase sunghoon, keeping his grumpy expression on.

“we don’t even attend the same college hoon.” sunghoon’s eyes soften when you easily roll off his nickname out loud. he rather rolled his eyes instead.

“i have to go soon,” you looked at the clock behind sunghoon’s figure. it was 2pm. you were surprised your acting has gone this far and you’re continuing. you thought it was fun to make your boyfriend jealous.

“hoon, let go of me.” your hands flew to his triceps, surprised at how his muscle flexed against your touch. you lightly touched his muscle which broke sunghoon’s grumpy expression again.

you looked at him with an eyebrow raise, hoping he would be persuaded to let you go but he shook his head like a kid.

“come on baby, don’t say that.”

your heart beat started pounding like crazy. you were astonished at the unexpected sentence. you suddenly stared at sunghoon, how a strand of hair was covering his eye so you unconsciously moved it behind his ear, eyes watching your actions. sunghoon stared at your lips, stained with your red lipstick.

“taerae can wait another day.” sunghoon started rubbing your back with his hands, making you frozen and loosing your train of thoughts.

yeah forget taerae.

“it would be amazing to show him how beautiful my girlfriend is but i want you to myself right now baby.” sunghoon started to lean closer, his hand cupping your jaw and slowly easing your cheek with his soft fingers.

you closed your eyes and leaned against his relaxing touch. “you sound possessive park.” you were satisfied with your act, chuckling slightly at how amused you are.

sunghoon giggled as well, his deep giggle erupting in him as you felt him leaning more into you. “mhmm maybe?” he shrugged with a smile.

you opened your eyes and see sunghoon staring at you with love and affection. you can’t help but to plant a lot of kisses to his lips. you saw sunghoon staring at your lips and you predicted what was gonna happen next.

“mhmm yeah.” you smiled mischievously at sunghoon, removing his arms from your waist and turned around towards the door which showed your back to him.

maybe you’re not done yet.

but before you can open the door, sunghoon wrapped his arms once again which prevented you from not moving. your hands reached to the cold door handle but didn’t touch. his hands gripped your hips which indicated a new side of your boyfriend, park sunghoon.

sunghoon’s lips pecked your neck. “not on my watch.” his hot breath contrasted your cold skin, tickling you.

your heart paused at his actions.

you felt your boyfriend’s chest against your back, giving you instant warmth to your cold, clammy skin. his hug was very comforting and at this point you gave up with your little skit.

“possessive and back hugging me? how romantic.” you chuckled. you felt a sharp pain in the side of your neck, “ow!” you shouted in shock when it was sunghoon’s playful behavior of showing his love. you knew sunghoon had fangs and he unfortunately is abusing that characteristic of his by biting you. you rather found it his fangs adoring yet a bit hot that your boyfriend looked like an actual vampire.

you felt sunghoon’s tongue’s slowly soothing that area when he licked your pain away; like a cat. you smiled when he hugged you tighter as his face was dug into your neck as if you’ll disappear.

sunghoon abruptly stopped hugging you but rather grabbed your hand, dragging you across the hallway towards the bed that both of you live in, filled with smiles and flustered cheeks.

thank you for reading<3 hope you enjoyed!

[these-lovely-monsters]

Tentacles Under The Bed - Part 3

[NSFW | 18+]

Characters: gn!tentacle monster x f!reader

Content: tentacles, eldritch monster

A/N: Here is part 3 at last! It started to get a bit long so I decided to break it up into 2 parts. This one is just fluff (no smut), but don't worry, I am posting part 4 with more tentacle shenanigans at the same time so you won't have to wait!

Since it fits, I'm also tagging this for #10 Tentacles from @ozzgin's Monstertober 2024 prompt list

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

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The next morning you wake to the bright sunlight streaming through the open window of your bedroom. Blinking open groggy eyes, you stretch your sore muscles with a groan. You smile to yourself at the memories from last night as you admire the bright red circular marks that cover your skin. You realize then that the tentacle monster is no longer holding your hand.

Leaning over the side of your bed, you peer under it but there’s nothing there. You sigh in disappointment and get up to grab some clothes from your closet. Just as you finish pulling them on, a soft rustling sound comes from behind you and you turn in excitement.

To your delight, you see a few tentacles peeking out from under your bed, gently feeling around on the sheets as if looking for you.

“You came back!” You exclaim as you rush over to it.

“Of course, my sweet. I will never leave you,” its deep, cosmic voice echoes in your head. Before you have a chance to wonder at its statement, it continues, “Did you rest well?”

“Yeah.” A small smile pulls at the corners of your mouth, “Thank you.” Biting your lip, you tentatively ask, “Will…will you come out so I can see you?”

The monster is quiet for a beat before saying, “I do not want to scare you.”

How bad could it really be? 

“I won’t be afraid, I promise.”

“I am not like your kind or anything that lives in this dimension.”

This dimension? Now you’re really curious, but you decide to table those questions for later in favor of coaxing this monster out from under your bed.

“I know,” you say as you take a step forward. You’ve already jumped way past the line of sanity by letting it fuck you with its tentacles so you might as well dive into the deep end at this point. “But you’ve seen all of me and I want to see all of you in return.”

It doesn't say anything for several moments and you wait patiently. “Very well,” it finally replies.

You watch with bated breath as the tentacles begin to slide forward. Soon there are dozens spilling from beneath your bed, squirming and writhing as a massive shape begins to form. Within moments, the monster has fully emerged and is looming over you, nearly blocking out the light from the window.

You gape in awe at the creature before you. Amidst the sea of tentacles that writhe from every side, is an amorphous, dark mass. You can’t quite tell what it’s made of but it looks almost like goo. When you take a step closer to get a better look, you can see that the surface is not actually black, but rather a deep shade of dark purple. The color appears to shimmer in the daylight as it gently undulates under your gaze. You also notice that it’s slightly transparent since you can make out the faint outline of your desk behind it.

As you stare at the creature, trying to drink in all the details, the tentacles begin to shift along its body so that a blank space forms on the side that’s facing you. Without warning, dozens of eyes suddenly blink open in front of you and you yelp in surprise. When a wide slit appears below the eyes, revealing two rows of black, razor sharp teeth, your breath catches in your throat and you take a half step back.

The tentacles droop at your reaction. “See? I told you that you would not like what you saw.”

“No!” You hurry to explain, “I was just startled, that’s all.”

“I will change my form to better suit your liking.”

You watch in fascination as the tentacles begin to melt into the dark mass until they are all gone. The eyes and mouth close and disappear as well. Its body then begins to morph, rippling and shuttering as it reforms into a roughly humanoid shape. Amazingly, the surface also flickers as the color lightens to a soft pink.

Two of its eyes blink open again in the approximate location of where human eyes would be. Except that one of the eyes is a bit too low, looking as if it’s melting off. The mouth also reappears, much smaller this time, but still with the same deadly teeth. When the monster stretches its mouth wide in a gut-churning imitation of a smile, you grimace.

Now this is utterly terrifying.

Swallowing the bile that’s trying to climb up your throat, you manage to choke out, “No—no that’s ok. I like your normal form just fine.”

“Are you sure? Would this not make you more comfortable?”

“I’m sure,” you say with a pained smile. “You can change back.”

“Very well then.”

You sigh in relief when the monster quickly shifts back to its original shape. When it first appeared, you thought it was beautiful in its own way, with its shimmering surface and gorgeous dark purple color. But now, after seeing the monstrosity of its “humanoid” version, you find that you quite like its true form.

“Much better,” you say with a genuine smile this time. Your grin only widens when it wriggles in obvious pleasure at your words.

“Hey, what’s your name, by the way?” You ask, realizing you never actually had a proper introduction.

“I am called *garbled noises*”

Whatever name it just gave you is completely unintelligible to you. “Umm…sorry, what?”

It repeats the same unintelligible noises again and you wince, knowing it will be impossible for you to grasp, let alone repeat. “I uh—I don’t know if I can pronounce that. But the beginning kind of sounds like ‘Karl’. Would it be alright if I called you that?”

“You—you would give me a name?” It asks in a stunned tone.

Worried that you may have offended it, you try to backtrack a little, “I don’t have to! Only if you’re ok with it, I mean. I just—”

“I would be honored to be named you,” it interrupts you, its voice reverent.

Sighing in relief, you grin. “Ok then. It’s nice to meet you, Karl.”

“Kaaarrrlll,” it says, dragging out the sounds as if testing them out. “I shall be Karl from now on. Thank you very much for this gift, I will cherish it for eternity.”

Reaching out a tentacle towards you, Karl curls the end into a ball and holds it there. You stare down at it in confusion, blinking a few times. “What…what are you doing?”

“Is this not what humans do in greeting?” Karl replies, reaching down to grab your opposite arm with a tentacle. It wraps around your hand, manipulating it until your hand is in a fist. Then Karl lightly taps its balled up tentacle against your closed fist and says, “Sup, bro?”

You continue to stare in utter confusion for a moment until it dawns on you that Karl just tried to fist bump you and you burst out laughing.

“What is so amusing?” It asks in a mildly affronted voice. “I have seen many humans greet each other this way. The ones who throw around the big orange ball do this a lot.”

“That’s not…” you try to reply through wheezing gasps but you’re still laughing too hard. After a minute, you finally settle down and catch your breath. “I’m sorry, I’m not laughing at you. It’s just… that’s how friends might greet each other.”

“Are we not friends?”

“Well…” you hesitate. “We could be. But since we…Uh... Since we were intimate… That’s not how lovers would greet each other.” You manage to stumble through your explanation, hoping Karl understands what you’re trying to say.

“Are we…” it pauses, as if mulling over the word, “lovers?”

“I mean, I guess?” You hedge, not quite meaning for it to come out as a question.

“And how do lovers greet each other?”

Laughing awkwardly, you rub the back of your neck. “They…would kiss each other.” You can feel your cheeks flaming at the thought. This monster literally fucked you senseless twice and here you are, blushing like a school girl at the thought of kissing it.

“Kiss?”

Oh gods. Your cheeks manage to grow even hotter. Taking a step closer so that you’re only a few inches from Karl, you take a deep breath.

“Yeah, like this,” you say as you lean in and place a soft kiss on its now closed mouth.

Karl is quiet for a moment before demanding, “Do it again.”

⋆ ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ● ⋅ ☽ ⋆ ☾ ⋅ ⋆

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4]

taglist: @blushycadaver @pearlofrose @gothicsugarslvt

[if-loves]

once upon a dream

// Yandere Capitano

sum: you haunt his existence. now, he wishes to repent.

wc: 1473

warnings: 5.1 story quest spoilers (mostly capitano lore spoilers), probably OOC capitano

a/n: i need capitano in a way that concerns my sanity / sorry for not posting in a hot second lmao have capitano as compensation

likes & reblogs are appreciated :)

Capitano would know you blind, deaf, and devoid of sense. He would know you by the way you breathe, the way you walk, and most of all, your soul.

He first met you five hundred years ago, upon the fall of Khaenri’ah, when he and his platoon fled to Natlan. You, a Master of the Night-Wind, who joined your chief in aiding what most could only assume were the enemies, with nothing but kindness and understanding in all your actions and words. Never once had you treated him or his men as lesser than, as burdens, but instead as one of your own.

He had never been the kind of person that sought for love, for he knew of the foolishness it brought far too often. He prioritised his duty to the kingdom, for its continued survival and prosperity, all until it fell to the hands of Celestia and its gods. Grief and regret often grappled his heart, but even so, he trudged forwards, for if not forwards, where else could he go?

When you touched his wounds for the first time, a gentle smile on your face, reassuring him that all will be alright, he felt as though he had transcended beyond the mortal realm and met an angel. You bandaged his wounds carefully and always offered a warm smile no matter the situation, always chastising him to have a little more regard for his own body, to which he would merely chuckle in reply.

When Ayizu had passed, grief once again racked his being, but he still felt grounded knowing you lived. He had yet to come to terms with his ever-growing feelings let alone your imminent death, and he wasn’t sure what he’d do if you were to die.

He quickly found out that he’d be wracked with grief and sorrow like never before, mourning the loss of you and what could have been, on his knees in the pouring rain cradling your lifeless body. You, who had died long before he even had the sliver of a chance to come to your aid, like you had to him.

Upon watching your tribesmen bury you, Capitano was left to ponder a question. What is the use of his strength, if he cannot even use it to protect those dear to him?

He swears that the first few nights after your passing were the worst he’s ever had in his entire life. He dreams of you, in all of your smiles and gentleness, crying for help as you’re ripped to shreds by abyssal monsters, staring at him with betrayal in your beautiful eyes, as he is unable to do anything except watch, an unwilling witness to your death. He then awakens, breathing heavily yet somehow barely breathing at the same time, drenched in sweat and regret.

He often wonders what your last thoughts were. Were they regretful, or were they full of fear? Or were they hopeful, believing he’d come just in time to save you? He hopes they weren’t. He hopes you didn’t die hopeful, waiting on a hero that could never exist.

Capitano remembers wandering for a long while before being recruited by Pierro, before being given his new identity. He swore many things by the Tsaritsa’s name, but the one he remembers most clearly is the one where he promises to make Natlan, make Teyvat, a safe place for you to exist freely without fear of war or death.

~~

Capitano thinks he’s going insane. He has started seeing, hallucinating, you in his subordinates. The glimpses are brief, and had he been a second too late, he would’ve completely missed you - but he’d know you just by your existence, and he’s certain that even if you were thousands of miles away from him, he’d feel you in the depths of his soul.

He’s desperate to see you again, in front of him. He desires nothing more than to feel the warmth of your skin against his own once more, to hear your heartbeat and confirm to himself that you’re alive again, so that he may right his wrongs and ensure your safety and your happiness in a way he couldn’t before. He is a powerful man now, not like when he first met you; he can give you the world.

His search is to no avail, and it is once again as though you had never existed. He’s almost on the verge of flipping through recruit profiles, until he hears of a group sent away to Liyue, and your name is mentioned. But of course, he is too late. You died, saving your comrades.

He is left to mourn you once again.

~~

The third time he sees you, he wonders if it’s a form of divine punishment. Is it because he’s Khaenrian that he must suffer this cruel fate? The destruction of his homeland, the curse of immortality, the deterioration of the nation that once protected him, the death of those he holds dear… He wonders when will be enough, how much repentance it will take for Celestia to finally cleanse him of his sin. But he has long stopped asking, because he knows the answer better than most.

He sees you many more times, both in reality and in his dreams. Each and every time, he is a second too late, one step away from saving you, from getting you back. And each and every time, he can see you, staring at him with betrayal in the eyes he so dearly adores.

Even so, he doubts he truly wants to see you anymore. His strength is a husk of its former glory, his flesh long rotted. He is perhaps the furthest thing from a human, more akin to an abyssal monster, and he fears that should you meet once more, you’d only stare at him in disgust or, worse yet, fear. He doesn’t think he can handle it.

~~

Capitano had long lost count of how many times he’s encountered you, but for this particular kind, he knows for a fact that it’s the first of its kind.

You stare up at him, confusion in the eyes he so adores, and he wishes for nothing more than to embrace you and listen to the steady beating of your heart. Unfortunately, he is surrounded by his subordinates, and he has a reputation to uphold. Instead, he takes your hand as gently as he can, trying to recall how you treated him before.

“You must come with me.” Is all he offers, before he drags you all the way to Snezhnaya, forsaking his own duties all for you.

He keeps you close to him the entire journey, never allowing you out of his sight for even a second. He wouldn’t allow it, not when that was all it took to lose you. You’re offered no explanation even as you demand for one, violently thrashing in his hold. It pains him to see you like this, and so he forces you to sleep.

At the end of the journey lies an old but sturdy mansion, gifted to him by the Tsaritsa upon his oath to her and the Fatui. It is kept in pristine condition with servants at every corner, busying themselves with tidying the already tidy home. The only sound is the wind beating at the windows harshly.

He brings you to a room, void of any sort of decoration, and chains you to the bed. It is then you realise that the windows have grills, separate from the glass, and the door has a lock on the outside. He, although his actions so cruel, treats you as gently as a monster can afford, and it makes you confused.

“What am I to you?” You question, staring into the darkness of his mask. In the dim room, you can faintly see the glow of blue.

“Everything.” He replies without hesitation, not even a second later than your question. He sounds as though he’s been waiting a very, very long time for this question.

“I do not know you.”

“But I know you.”

He walks closer and closer, until he stands in front of you. Silently, he kneels, head lowered as if in reverence.

“I’d know you blind, deaf, on the verge of death. I’d know you by the way you breathe, walk, smile. I’d know you no matter your appearance, because I know your soul.” He takes one of your chained hands in his gloved ones, bringing the back of it into the abyss of his helmet. You feel a faint kiss by lips chapped and skin rotting.

“It’s okay if you hate me, resent me.” He murmurs, unwilling to let go of your hand. “It’s okay if you wish me dead. As long as you’re alive, I could want for nothing more.”

If only beings like him died so easily.

like my work? consider donating a ko-fi!

[moondirti]

back on my bullshit soapgaz x gn! reader

Kyle has his tongue halfway down Johnny's throat when the petulant knocking previously on the other side of the wall migrates to his front door.

It's not like he didn't hear it before. Just that he didn't care. And really, if it were up to him, he'd continue rutting their leaky cocks together until he were gratified enough to deal with whatever bullshit problem the neighbour's have this time. Being pent up off the end of a bad mission does that to you, you see. Wears you down until you're all instinct, aggression, sybaritic once you taste death on the barrel of an M-16. He doesn't have any propriety left in him. No patience.

But that's exactly what does it. The banging gets too loud to ignore, and Soap, bless his heart, isn't exactly quiet either. His moans meet the cacophony of knuckles rapping on wood. In the clamour, Kyle's remaining sanity wears infinitesimally thin. His nerves spark like frayed electrical wires. His balls ache with a climbing release that only grows steeper. And he's running on frustration that's been impossible to burn off. (It was his fault the op went to shit, no matter how his team insists otherwise.)

His fault. His fault.

God, can they fucking shut up already?

He rips away. A thread of spit still tethers him to Soap, swollen lip to lip. The man in question is flushed, blue eyes more watery than usual. Dazed, briefs shucked halfway down his lap, his shirt creased in all the commotion, exposing the hair-dusted planes of his muscled abdomen. Kyle can tell he isn't as bothered by the disruption. For all his acumen, Soap's always been the first to loosen up. All it takes is a hand down his pants by someone he trusts not to stab him.

He looks up at him now, blinking stupidly, saying nothing when Kyle gets up and steps into the closest pair of sweats. Wider pant leg, shorter inseam. Johnny's. The lining is soft enough not to chafe his balls as he scrambles for the speaker remote, and he thinks he starts to understand the appeal in going commando.

The knocking persists until he pauses the music.

When he swings the door open, he expects to find Agnes, or Gerald, or one of the other ten geriatric tossers living on his floor. They all like him well enough. Sending them away would be as easy as promising a day's worth of labour, dusting the shelves they can't reach, or some other menial task he can drag Soap along to do with him.

What he doesn't expect is you.

You. Pointedly not old, endearingly unkempt, and enraged enough he's surprised there isn't steam whistling from your ears.

If he's in any way moved by the novelty, he doesn't have the energy to show it. In many ways, he feels like an expanded version of the vein throbbing at your temple. Whatever complaint you have, he's sure he can match it with a hundred more, each distinctly worse.

"What?"

"Have you no fucking courtesy?" You snarl, twisting a sore fist in the scratchy fabric of your scrubs. Your knuckles look raw, scratched up. He half wants to kiss 'em better, half wants to huff a serves you right. "You're not the only person in the world! You share walls with three other people, and I'm sure you know how thin they are! That music is way too loud to even defend! You'll go deaf by 50, you bloody lemon! And that's not counting what you're doing to the poor sods who have to share a space with you, since you've clearly demonstrated a lack of care in that regard! Honestly, I should just call the cops to deal with this. Or the landlord, see how you like blasting your shitty playlist on the streets!"

The words don't mean much to him. Perhaps they would, if he properly digested them. But you're way too cute when you're mad for him to take you seriously. Your lips purse in a way that screams put my mouth to better use, and his fingers itch with the urge to pinch your nose shut, shut off your airflow, as your nostrils flare with heat. In the end, the only response he can muster is a lame:

"I've never seen you around before."

"I don't live here!"

"Then..." He trails off, looking back at Johnny on the couch, then the speakers, then you.

"I'm Maureen's caretaker. You know, your next door neighbour? Her Alzheimer's makes her sensitive to the racket, and she hasn't been able to calm down all day! Because of you! I've about had it up to here–" You raise a hand above your head, waving it wildly to emphasise your point. He has to bite his cheeks to stop himself from smiling.

"That's unfortunate." He says, and tries really hard to mean it. It seems you have a keen ear for apathy, though, because you cross your arms and tense your jaw and harden your glare until he's sighing, all dramatically, "Fine. Music down. Got it."

He means it, too. Despite all the awful things he's done — twisting a knife into the throat of a soldier pleading for their mum and using their corpse as a shield through the ensuing crossfire, most recently — he isn't heartless. He knows he isn't the only person in the world. The casualties that fell on his hands in the past month alone will haunt him to a point where he remembers that fact like it's a second skin.

But you turn your nose up, up, all self-satisfied, downright pompous if you ask him, and that brief flame of empathy flickers out like a candle held under rain. It's made worse when you walk away without so much as a thank you, and you really do need to be taught a lesson, don't you?

He never liked Maureen, anyway.

Malicious compliance is an ugly game, but to his credit, he doesn't turn the music back on.

Soap hasn't moved an inch, though his briefs lay over the arm of the couch now. One scarred, rough palm cups the mass between his spread legs, kneading his balls carelessly as he waits for him. Pillow princess. Kyle wonders if he's this laid back with Ghost, or if their brutish lieutenant makes him work for a fuck.

"They're bonnie." He hums, hugging his knees up and apart when Kyle slides a finger between his cheeks.

"And you're loose."

"Aye. Ye didnae think Ah’d turn up without gettin’ maself ready for ye, did ye?" Soap smiles crookedly, cocking his head to the side in that way he does. It narrows the gap between human and dog to an uncanny degree, and he's struck with the realisation that yeah, Ghost probably gives him whatever he wants with enough whimpering.

"Slut." Kyle says, without malice.

"Yet ye're pumpin' me."

He's got him there.

His hole is slippery, hot around his finger. He could probably get away with fucking him like this, no extra prep needed, and the Scot would enjoy whatever burn comes as consequence. But he uncaps the lube anyway, squirting it between the iron-firm canyons of Soap's ass and a little over the head of his own cock before lining them up.

And as he pushes in, he swoops low to whisper in his ear.

"Be loud."

Johnny loves a good challenge.

It's part of the reason they get along so well. Kyle seeks stimulating experiences like Icarus to the sun, and no one rises to the occasion better than his twin sergeant. He'll be the first to place bets over a deck of cards, or contribute to trivia nights at their frequented bar, or hop on the game with him when neither can sleep. He's even down to test all those sick fantasies that frighten birds off. Including, it seems, exhibitionism.

And Lord is he good at it.

Kyle is almost embarrassed, despite being the one to start it. Soap, on the other hand, has left shame with his shoes at the door. The air hangs heavy with sex and noise, the lewd slaps of skin on skin, his balls swinging to hit the cleft of his ass, just as his cock hits the same spot within him. Over and over.

The Scot moans with abandon, head thrown and back arched. He really doesn't need to slam his fist into the wall repeatedly, the mangled sounds tearing from his throat (an arbitrary pattern of Gaz, fuck, ye're huge, jist there, dinnae stop) more than enough, but it's a nice touch. By now, it's practice that assures him he's hitting the right spot (the dramatics are appreciated, not reliable). He knows just how to angle himself, where exactly Soap likes it, to make this worth both their time.

Though, with the way his cock is twitching untouched, he looks to be getting off on this too.

His mind is split between the delicious sight underneath him and an imagined picture of you. Are you more furious or turned on? Is your charge giving you a tough time for their transgressions? Did you sneak off to the bathroom to relieve your frustration in a productive way? Fuck. He wonders what you look like when you cum, drawing a picture with the very limited references he's been given.

Your brows scrunched, lips twisted, eyes screwed up. Still in your uniform, undershirt rolled up to your elbows as you slip a hand down the waistband of your pants. Unable to let yourself go completely. Shamefully indulgent. Fingers tensed over the lip of the sink, goading yourself along, pulling out and washing up the second you cum. Refusing to ride out the waves of your orgasm, but going home with a sticky mess between your legs.

Equal parts furious and turned on, he decides.

Soap grabs his hand to force it around his dick.

"You gonna cum so soon?" He asks — more shouts, really — even though it's a stupid question. Whatever helps you paint the scene...

"Uhuh! Uhuh!" Soap catches on, huffs trailing into whines as Kyle tightens the grip over his tip.

They're both one corny porn line away from bursting into laughter (which, the more he thinks about, the more he's sure Johnny is parroting the last film they watched together). He has to bite his tongue to keep the amusement from making itself known, jacking the length in his hands to the same tempo of his thrusts.

"Then cum, you needy whore. Make a fuckin' mess of yourself."

And it's terrifying how well they execute it. As though previously rehearsed, Johnny shoots ropes all over his chest, ending his act with a loud, punchy "fuck!"

Kyle follows not too long after, pulling out to coat the back of his thighs. Cum gets everywhere. That's fine. His couch is overdue for a wash, anyway.

"Good work," He chuckles. Quiet this time, the praise genuine.

Soap grins. "Steamin Jesus, ye'r th' best shag A've ever had!"

"Alright, enough." He taps his cheek in a mock slap, smearing their combined fluids all over the stubble he'd begun to grow. The man is undeterred, sticking a tongue out to polish his palm. "That's overkill."

"That's gonnae git ye leid. Jus' watch."

"Us laid." Kyle corrects, because who would he be if he didn't grant his best mate a portion of the prize?

In the afterglow, he forgets all about his anger.

It's late when you come by again.

Well. Not late for anyone with a healthy circadian rhythm, but he's been living at his Nan's old place long enough to know that light's out is 1800 hours. Maureen is definitely asleep by now. And even then, the timing is odd. They've both bathed, stripped the couch of its cushions, ordered takeout, played a round of Mario Kart, finished the last of their reports, and emptied an old vape cartridge (after running out of cigs).

It's been hours since the last time they made any significant amount of noise. Your appearance is unfounded.

The knocking is subdued this time. One, two. Pause. The shadow beneath the door retreating, then waddling back again. He watches it occur over a minute or two, fond of making you wait, before rising from his place on the floor.

The door swings. Hinges squeak. You look worse for wear.

Kyle pouts, mustering every condescending bone in his body to suppress the true pang of sympathy he feels. "Awe. What is it this time, baby? Turned down the music, didn't I? And we've been so good all night."

"Y-You're... A foul, despicable human being. You know– i-it didn't mean– I didn't need to–" Your eyes squeeze shut, but that doesn't stop a hot tear from leaking down your cheek. "If you get off to making people miserable, then congratu-fucking-lations, you're one of 7 billion."

He listens. Takes you in, properly this time.

Blotchy face. Stained scrubs. Plain hands. Messy hair. Heavy backpack. Beat up sneakers. And a darling little face that really shouldn't be so affected.

Unless it's in pleasure, his brain supplies.

"Rough day at work, huh?" He pushes his shoulder off the doorframe, opening his stance up to something more sincere. Maybe it feels wrong to rub it in your face any further. Maybe it's because he recognises the signs a little all too well.

And it must be bad too, seeing as you don't resist. Nodding weakly, you keep your eyes shut and take deep breaths. He's worked his frustrations out already, patience back in stock, so he waits as you wrangle back the waterworks.

"No thanks to you." You whisper hoarsely, crossing your arms and looking down at his shoes.

"I'm sorry." He says, and actually means it this time. Johnny comes up behind him, body heat a flame to the fuel coursing within him. It's all the confidence he needs to ask: "Allow us to make it up to you."

And the way you look up — a little too quick, hopeful, pretty — he knows you know what he means.

You really were there, then. Listening.

"Really?"

"Yeah." Kyle smiles, sharp-toothed, careful not to appear too eager. "I know just the thing to help."

[sarahghetti]

blood on your lies; m.s.

pairing: marc spector x reader centric, steven grant x reader, jake lockley x reader

summary: after an argument with marc, you go missing. he tears himself apart trying to find you.

warnings: a dive into the mind of marc spector, angst, hurt with some comfort (i.e. jake and steven), kidnapping, vague descriptions of violence.

word count: 3.0k

notes: kind of a continuation of all the echoes in my mind, but can be read as a standalone. written as part of the @moonknight-events bingo! prompt: "insecure", I promise that not all my entries will be this sad lol

MOON KNIGHT MASTERLIST | ALL MASTERLISTS

You’re not home yet.

It’s nearly been three hours. Marc paces the apartment like a caged animal, likely wearing the hardwood underneath his feet. Steven and Jake have run their course about how stupid he is, how he shouldn’t have said what he said, how he should’ve run after you the second you stepped out the door—

But jokes on them. There can be no harsher critic of Marc than Marc himself.

He checks his phone again in case you’ve responded to his many texts and calls, but there’s nothing. As far as he knows, you haven’t even seen any of it.

His temper still lingers under their skin, and he holds it tight with both hands; anger is easy. It’s easier than admitting that the peaks in his heartrate and the sweat on his brow is from anything other than his own self-flagellation.

Anger is familiar.

This, however? The waiting for you to walk through the door, or to give them any sign of life—so much of his sanity rests in the comfort of you being safe. Marc didn’t realize how lucky he was to not know what this was like. Now, he doesn’t know if he can ever forget it.

Jake’s voice is clipped. “Check again.”

They’re all on edge, and it’s terrible. Most of the time, at least one of them manages to keep a level head during stressful situations—usually Marc. Jake is prone to anger, Steven to anxiousness.

“Marc!” Steven yanks him out of his head, and his phone is in his hand without any memory of having taken it out of his pocket. He does a dutiful look through his notifications—nothing.

Three sets of disappointment and concern pile on top of one another and drags them all down so much further.

“Do…” Steven’s voice is quiet. Unsure. “Do you think something might’ve happened to her?”

There is no dissenting opinion, no devil’s advocate. Marc doesn’t try to calm his alters down, and only clenches his jaw.

You’ve never gone quiet on them like this. They’ve never let you leave the flat at night like this. They always opted to be the one to go take a walk because even in the middle of an argument, they wouldn’t risk your safety.

The lingering silence is Steven’s answer.

When the suit wraps itself around his body, the accompanying burst of power in his veins is suffocating. His wounds begin to numb over, but Marc barely notices. He hasn’t spared them a thought since you left.

The cool air does nothing to assuage him. Clouds blot out the sky, leaving nothing but a murky backdrop as he scales up the nearest building for a vantage point. A quick scan over the horizon—nothing. Not a hint of your silhouette under the streetlights, and a lump forms in his throat.

“Khonshu!”

A gust of wind signals the god’s arrival, who, even with a bird’s skull for a head, looks remarkably bored as Marc is clinging to any semblance of sanity. He must already know what’s going on but frustratingly just spreads out his hands, a silent question—what?

Marc grits his teeth. “Where is she?”

“Who?”

“Khonshu.” The name is a snarl on his lips.

He simply scoffs. “You have the gall to make demands? As if I need to be involved with your lover’s spat?”

“She’s not answering her phone.”

A lingering pause.

“She might be in danger,” Marc snaps, trying to get the god to understand even a fraction of the severity of the situation. They might bloody their hands night after night, staining London’s streets each time they go out on patrol, but it’s never enough. There are always more monsters to take their place, and the thought that you might have run into one of them—

Khonshu cocks his head. “Maybe she’s just finally had enough of you.”

Marc hates how that’s a possibility. Still, desperation crawls out of his throat. “Can you find her?”

Khonshu turns to look over the city, the silence stretching out between them. Whatever divinity he’s channeling, Marc isn’t privy to; all he can do is stand there like a useless dumbass and wait for some hint of you to show up on the god’s radar. Even if you had had enough and never want to see him again—he’ll swallow down that fate in stride as long as he knows that you’re safe.

When Khonshu finally breaks from searching, his head cocks slightly to the side. “Interesting.”

This is hardly the time for theatrics. “Do not—”

“I cannot find her,” the god admits. Not apologetic or ashamed, but—awed. “Where she is right now, her footsteps through the city—there is nothing, Marc Spector. There’s not even a trace of her in your own home.”

The blood rushes in his ears. His chest constricts until he can barely breathe at all. Marc barely manages to wrap his head around the information before Jake and Steven come roaring back again, shocked and confused.

“Stupid fucking bird—”

“She was right here!

“Let me out, pendejo, I swear—”

“What the bloody hell does he mean—”

“How?” Is all Marc manages to get out, every one of his senses on overload.

“Something is hiding her from me; whatever took your lover is very powerful indeed.”

Took. Not a single doubt about it now: something took you. Kidnapped you because Marc couldn’t keep it together for ten-fucking-minutes. Jake and Steven can prattle all they want in the background—his mission is clear.

“Where do we start?”

-

The flat seems even bleaker when they return, your absence all the more chilling. Steven clamours to take the reins with the obvious assumption that research is the first step they need to take, but that’s quickly dashed away when Khonshu returns with a name.

“Apep.” God of darkness and disorder, Steven supplies from their head. “He’s been cast away for eons, but there have always been those trying to get him to return.”

“It’s another cult?”

Jake swears under his breath. “Figures.”

Ignoring them, Marc presses on. “Who are we dealing with now?”

“If it were easy to find them, I would’ve done it already,” Khonshu bristles. “Apep is helping them—hiding them as they work. I will continue to do what I can.”

“Fine.”

The god disappears in a whirlwind of loose papers, and Marc switches gears. Steven might have the advantage in research, but tracking? The skills he’s honed as a Marine and as a mercenary wait for him like an old pair of shoes; the others can’t help but let him work in peace.

He finds some old tourist map that spans over the city and unfolds it across the dining table. There are only so many places you would’ve gone, so many routes you could’ve taken. London doesn’t become deserted at night and barring any divine intervention, kidnapping someone would cause a scene—you would have caused a scene, he thinks, imagining you fighting tooth and nail against your assailants, screaming for someone to help—

Marc closes his eyes, clenches his jaw. A wave of pain washes over him, and he languishes in it for a minute, not a moment more.

His eyes reopen, spots dancing across his vision as he analyzes the map again. The feeling has been sealed shut into a box, shoved into a corner of his mind. Steve would throw a fit about his mental state if it were any other time, lecturing him on coping mechanisms and compartmentalization, but there’s no time for him to feel sorry for himself.

He grits his teeth and refocuses his train of thought. If they’re up against a cult, then they probably would’ve sent multiple people to grab you. Would’ve had to lure you somewhere quiet if it was by force, or they could have convinced you to go with them somehow. Or threatened you. Or…

The more he gets into it, the more he feels himself detaching from the situation, piece-by-piece. The memory of you is like a minefield; it’s a testament to his will that he can recall anything about you without breaking down. What you were wearing—and not the look on your face—when you left. Your favourite park—and not how your hand fits perfectly into his as you walked down the paths—that you might have passed through.

He reduces you to intel, just another folder on his desk. It’s not unfamiliar to him. He wouldn’t have made it this far if he couldn’t take an objective approach to his work. But it’s different because it’s you, because the stakes include you, and when he looks up to try to ground himself again, he spots your favourite mug on the coffee table. Half-empty.

-

If Layla were here.

The words bounce around his head as Marc stares up at the ceiling. He didn’t mean it. Steven and Jake are both better with words than Marc, but he’s never loved you any less—he’s never wanted you to be anyone but yourself.

It’s been almost two days since you left, and it’s only now that he’s allowed himself to be corralled into bed. His grip of the hot seat is ironclad, however, which means that the body isn’t getting any sleep tonight. The sun will rise soon, and he’ll pick up his work right where he left off.

Quietly, from the back of his head: “Marc?”

“Could’ve taken the victim anywhere,” Marc murmurs, mind still whirring in the dark.

“’Victim’?” Steven’s voice shifts to be full of indignance. “How could you possibly call her that?”

“Ay, easy on him,” Jake pipes up. For Jake to immediately to jump to his defence means that Marc must be worse off than he thought, but he can’t bring himself to care. “How’s it going, hombre?”

“No sightings on any security cameras. Nothing reported to the cops.” Hours of his time—your time—summarized in a breath. His face remains blank. “I’m going to sweep the remaining areas tomorrow. Find some people who might’ve seen something.”

He’s been doing nothing but cross possibilities off his list. It’s barely any progress and his remaining leads are weak, but his resolve is as strong as ever.

“Nothing from Khonshu?”

“No.” Marc has no idea what the god is doing.

They lay in silence for a bit, listening to the maddening tick-tick-tick of the clock on the wall. Anger is unsustainable, but Marc wishes that they’d return to yelling at him again. At least he knows what to do with that.

Instead, all he gets is Steven’s restrained tone: “Something has to change, you know.”

“Are you really telling me to go to therapy right now?”

“Can’t do much else.” For a moment, Steven’s bitterness resonates. There’s another conversation to be had here—one about their individual capabilities and protective natures—but Marc lets it rest for the night. He knows he’d be driven up the wall if their situation was reversed, if you were in danger and he had to rely on someone else to save you.

He still deflects. “Not the time for this.”

“Maybe not,” Steven concedes, “but you need help, Marc.”

Distantly, Marc recognizes that he’s always needed help. Even after reconciling with Steven and Jake, even after meeting you—the wounds are still there, despite how hard he’s tried to ignore them. He’s stubborn and self-destructive, not stupid.

“We’re with you, always,” Jake adds. Discomfort crawls under Marc’s skin from the supportive words, and he knows that his alters are well aware of it. It’s never stopped them, of course.

“We can talk about this after—after we save her.”

A general murmur of consensus. Marc quickly regains his footing, eager to move on from this line of conversation.

“I’ll find something. Or Khonshu will.” Steady and reassured—trying to convince them and himself. “We’ll get her back.”

Steven’s voice is small, even in the confines of their head. “But why would they take her in the first place?”

-

“He needs an avatar?” The body hasn’t slept in days. That void of feeling pulses with anger, desperation, fear—it simmers low in their gut, a torch passed along between them.

“Apep will need a vessel once they release him.”

“Here I thought one of his cultists would volunteer.”

Khonshu taps his staff against the ground thoughtfully. “They knew we would come after them, and we’re not the only ones.”

For the briefest of moments, Marc feels hopeful, like the odds aren’t as stacked against them as they thought. It disappears just as fast—Khonshu doesn’t deliver hope. The blood drains out of his face as he actually starts to consider the god’s words.

“If Apep possesses your precious lover, would you really be able to stop her? To take up arms against her?”

Khonshu leans in close then, hollowed eyes burrowing into him.

“Would you let others do the same?”

-

Over the next week, things begin to look up.

Someone’s girlfriend’s cousin says that they saw someone who looked like you walking down The Mall. There’s a fuzzy image of a car with no license plates. Khonshu catches the briefest hint of you on Westminster Bridge and follows you far, far east—it’s a mere grain of information that’s slipped through Apep’s power, but it’s enough for Marc.

They find the car abandoned in Dover, near the water. It rules out France—driving through the Eurochannel would’ve been the fastest route there, after all. Trying to take a public ferry would’ve been stupid with a captive, which means that they probably chartered or owned a boat.

The remaining pieces fall into place, and he can feel the anticipation from the others build in the background. Marc has led the charge so far with very few breaks to let Steven and Jake breathe a little. Steven misses you so much, he cries whenever he fronts. Jake has gone eerily quiet, and Marc knows what’s simmering underneath the surface; when the fighting starts, Jake will be called to action. His excitement is brutal.

It's all coming to an end soon. Laying on some dirt in the Norwegian countryside, shrouded in darkness, Marc’s never seen more stars in his life. If he’s right—and he is right—they’ll be bringing you to a nearby compound for the final step of their ritual. He couldn’t care less about the how or why. Come the morning, you’ll be here. Marc will get them inside. Jake will get to you. And then…

Marc will probably never be the partner that you deserve, and you never should’ve been subjected to his life. To sleepless nights and patching up his injuries and comforting him after nightmares that has him thrashing in the sheets—

But he can’t survive without you. It’s a simple little fact that gives him the power to move mountains; there are none bigger than the mess of his own head.

Exhaustion creeps up on him, and he can’t help but struggle against it. Fighting to keep his eyes open, his thoughts spill into the air. “Need to take care of her first.”

“Taking care of yourself is taking care of her,” Steven says gently. Have they had this conversation already? Marc’s been so singled in on this mission that everything else has fallen by the wayside. He can’t remember the last thing he ate, or what he’s wearing under the suit. The ground is the softest thing he’s ever felt.

If there’s any comparison to be made between you and Layla, it’s that he’s failed both of you. Maybe he could be different this time. Even if you decide that you want nothing to do with him after all this, he could still get help. He’ll have Steven and Jake. He’ll have himself and his scrappy resolve and the memories of this heart-aching pain, and maybe he’ll finally get better.

Marc lets his eyes close; the body needs rest for what’s to come. You don’t deserve any less than their best.

Just a few more hours.

-

Marc watches the fight from their headspace. Jake doesn’t miss a single shot and never so much as falters when one of them manages to land a hit. This is the longest break Marc’s gotten from fronting in a while, but he can’t bring himself to look away.

Jake loops their arm around the neck of cultist unlucky enough to be nearby, gripping his hair so hard Marc can nearly feel the strands through his fingers, feel it when Jake jerks their arm to the side and twists—

-

Your handlers left you alone in another room with nothing but a hard cot to curl into as you waited for them to retrieve you again. Locked inside but unbound—Marc hates how you startle when he breaks through the door.

Eyes wide, your mouth opens and closes multiple times without success. “You—you came.”

Marc wishes there weren’t so much surprise in your tone. Of course he came for you, it was never a choice for him—for any of them.

But clearly there was a part of you that thought he wouldn’t, wasn’t there? That he might just leave you in the clutches of some power-hungry cult because—because what, you’re not his ex-wife? Because you think he doesn’t love you?

The need to rectify that pierces his heart. He pulls you close, knuckles white in your shirt. “I love you.”

You shake in his arms. “Marc—”

“I love you.”

The words don’t stop; they fall from his lips like a prayer. Even as you weep, soaking the suit with your tears, he says it. I love you. I love you. I love you. In every variation, in every way—he’ll never let you believe otherwise again. He’ll say it over and over, work tirelessly to become the man you both deserve. For the rest of your lives. For the rest of time.

However long you’ll give him.

[mydearlybeloathed]

── 𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐆𝐀𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐆𝐈𝐙𝐌𝐎𝐒 𝐀-𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: being a mermaid, it's part of you nature to bring the object of your affection gifts in the hopes of swaying their gaze. how do these pirates handle your onslaught of treasures?

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nami, luffy, and sanji x mermaid!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1.7k (.6k luffy, .4k nami, .6k sanji)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: mermaid!reader, continuation of this fic, requested

LUFFY

When you first began to court Luffy via your pod’s traditions, you quickly realized you’d have to improvise; Luffy had no clue what any of your actions meant, no matter how obvious you made it.

You brought your captain countless gifts, ranging from perfect pearls to slightly chipped sand dollars, and each time all he did was smile, thank you, and skip away to add your gift to his growing collection.

This time, however, you would make sure he understood, lest your sanity slip away. 

He sat criss crossed on his special seat, the mast of the ship, and you stood on the deck with a pretty pink and blue conch shell in hand. Hopeful eyes set on the man you admired, you failed to notice Robin coming up beside you. She hummed softly, startling you. “Oh, hi.”

“He’ll like that one.” Robin smiled cheekily. “But you want my advice?”

“Please.”

A chuckle left her as she looked on at her captain. “Be as straightforward as you can. Ask him what his feelings are.”

Blinking widely, you gazed back at Luffy. That surely seemed easy enough. Steeling yourself with a sigh, you nodded once and trudged forward, up the stairs to the foredeck and all the way up to where the masthead met the deck. Words rose to your lips and fell short, breath caught by the way the wind and sun sat around him like good friends. Luffy sat leaned back on his hands, eyes gently shut, easy smile on his face. You couldn’t dare to break such a moment, not till you nearly dropped the shell and let slip a little yelp. 

Luffy reacted instantly, tilting back his head to see what was the matter. He grinned upon seeing you, sending jitters through your belly. “Hey!” His eyes lowered to the conchshell tight in your grasp, jabbing a finger at it. “What’s that?”

He already knew it was for him; Luffy grew to look forward to your random gifts, treasuring them in his quarters and spending a little time each morning just admiring them. 

You glanced down at your gift, mustering up your courage and hoping beyond hoping that he’ll finally understand. “It’s for you. I found it this morning.”

Found was an understatement. You’d scoured the seafloor all morning to find something worthy of bestowing upon your love. Luffy beamed even brighter, if possible. “Really?” He slid off the mast and landed right in front of you. 

Luffy’s eyes shown like stars, his lips slightly parted as he ghosted his hands over the silky surface of the shell. You passed it on to his caloused hands, skin sparking as his fingers slid against yours. You stood transfixed upon him and how gently he handled the gift, turning it this way and that to see every nook and cranny, leaving no part of it unknown. A sharp ba-dump ba-dump echoed in your chest.

“It’s great,” he breathed, raising his eyes to peer into yours. Soft wasn’t a word one would use to describe Luffy. Brash and loud, yes. But not soft. Yet, there was this secret shadow of him that was softer beyond compare, only revealed in moments of deep distress… or right now, when you hand him a piece of your heart.

You felt a soft prod at your back, hand lunging back to catch a phantom wrist. You quickly released Robin’s hand, whipping around to spy her, but she was nowhere in sight. Puffing your cheeks, you swiveled back just to find Luffy leaning close over your shoulder, eyes squinted. “What’re we looking for?”

“N-Nothing.” Gazing into his face, you coiled your fists. “Luffy, I have a question.” 

Instantly, all his attention was on you, pleasantly awaiting. “Mhmm?”

“I… I was wondering… do—do you—do you like… tangerines?”

Luffy blinked a little blankly, before shrugging a shoulder. “Yeah, I like ‘em. What an odd question.” He ruffled up your hair and hurried off. “I’m gonna add this to my collection. Thanks a bunch!”

“Yeah… no problem.” Cupping yoru face in your hands, you groaned disparingly. Cracking open an eye, you found a single arm sprouting from the deck rail sporting a thumb’s up of comfort. 

NAMI

The gifts had been a constant before you and Nami made it official, but after? Nami was running out of room to keep all the nick-nacks you showered her with. She’d never tell you that though, the smile on your face each time you offered up a gift a treasure in itself.

So Nami settled for becoming the ship’s interior decorator, making it a project to find the best places to present your increasingly beautiful finds. 

Hanging from the wall in the galley was a giant piece of seaglass wrapped in fishing net. On the kitchen table an array of shells sat in a decorative bowl. Each of the boys had a whole sand dollar they were not allowed to touch on the their bed table.

It took you a few weeks to notice it, with the decorations growing over time, but when you did a surprised yet excited beam took you face. You noticed the solid pink clam shell you’d found a month ago among the table decorations, immediately whirling on Nami with a bright smile. “I found that, didn’t I?”

She was worried you’d be upset with her decorating, but now you coudln’t have looked happier. Nami’s cheeks reddened as she laughed, nodding. “You did. I thought I’d put some of your treasures around so we can all admire them.”

You shot up from the table and bounded off. “How many more are there? Did you hide them?”

Nami watched misty eyed, heart warm as the sound of your voice echoed back to the galley. Robin chuckled behind her hand, winking when Nami caught her eye. Nami blushed deeper and, flustered, got up to chase after you.

After that, she really set out to hide the gifts you brought her, tucking them between books and pans. Your search grew to be a calm sort of game. You would be lying in a hammock by Nami’s side, her reading a book aloud, when you lazily pointed to the bookshelf and murmured, “There’s the blue one I got last week.”

The whole crew even joined in after a while, and a board was set up in the galley to tally the scores. Even after four months of the treasure hide-and-seek, you came out on top with the most finds, and if someone dared to come close to taking your title? Well, you reminded them that you have two rows of razor-sharp teeth, and suddenly you were champion once again.

SANJI Sanji treasures each and every gift you bring him, to the point where his nose starts to bleed every other trinket. He doesn’t love the gifts a normal amount, okay. He will set them up all over the kitchen and randomly point them out to anyone nearby.

“Look at that one! She had to have dove down so many depths to get it. Ah~”

“Mosshead, get your slimy, bottom-feeder hands away from my seashells.”

Everyone knew to treat your gifts to Sanji with immense care, and that fact sent a wave of pride through your heart. You sat at the kitchen counter watching him cook, lining up the shells just to admire them, every once in a while making them into the shape of a heart and sending him into cardiac arrest. 

Oh, but the gift he’s most proud of? It’s the one he wears round his neck every single day.

The first pearl you brought him was a small thing, around the size of a pinky, and you handed it to him shyly while saying you couldn’t find a bigger one to display. Sanji barely breathed, rolling it in his palm and just thinking of how lucky he is to have you, that you would dive down into the sea just to find him the most beautiful treasures. 

Yes, it was part of your culture, so part of this was customary to you, but after each of his lovely reactions your gift-giving grew into more of a habit of the heart, eyes always peeled for any trinket Sanji might enjoy. So when you noticed how he held the pearl with such care, the milky white of it looking so nice against his palm, you got an idea.

Every single morning for the next two months you gathered pearl after pearl, keeping them in a little box under your bed. Sneakily, you even managed to take the original pearl from the ring box Sanji kept it in. The scare it gave him when he awoke, turned to his bed table, and his prized gift from his lovely mermaid was missing?? He was inconsolable, so much so that you rushed to give him his gift a day earlier, giggling as you cut off his apologies.

“It’s okay,” you beamed, handing him a small paper wrapped object. “I think this will fix it.”

You bounced on your heels as Sanji sat down at the counter and delicately handled the paper, revealing the pearl necklace within. For the longest moment, he said nothing at all, only staring down at it blankly. You ducked to catch more of his expression, worrying your lip between your teeth. “Do you like it?”

Sanji’s lips ticked upward, eyes holding so much affection you could feel it hit you as he raised his gaze. “I love it. Thank you, my love.”

You couldn’t hold back the magnitude of your smile, reached to help him put it on. As soon as the cool pearls hit his skin, he felt a sense of wholeness only you could explain. He ran a finger over the necklace, wiping away a trail of blood with his wrist, and turned to take you in his arms. 

From that day forth, he never took the necklace off. 

Sanji never wasted a moment he could show it off, unbuttoning the tops of his shirts so it was more visible. You were more than pleased by this, hanging off his arm as you swept through markets, casting every admiring woman a lethal glare before reaching to toy with the pearls around his neck.

Let’s just say the gift satisfied a more possessive part of your nature you did your best to hide from your lover.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭:

@100520s

[jacesbeloved]

for the kingdom: part v

summary: being the youngest daughter of alicent, you hadn’t known what it was like to feel restraint until you had been betrothed to the eldest son of queen rhaenyra for a pact. for who? for the kingdom.

pairing: jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

warnings: explicit content, cunnilingus, dirty thoughts in a church, porn with (little) plot, dirty talk, slightly public sex, overstimulation | if you liked this, pls do leave a heart or comment, it’d be greatly appreciated ^w^

part: I, II, III, IV, V

ftk taglist: @kentarosbaby @lady-ashfade @simrah1012 @mfrnchsk @sexualityisajoke @elsyyie @instabul l @ephemeralninon @chrisevansgirlfriendsposts @mainstreambitchlife @alexandra-001 @writer-lee5 @nightly-polaris @m4nd0l0r @roroswitherose @how2besalty @eds-gryff f @icantpickausername @solacestyles @blue1006 @highexpectationsgurl @doe-inluv @kitkat-writes-stuff @alex4040 @cl-0-vr @frogoerson @neo-weareone @theamuz @illainebedeakin @littletargaryens-blog @ietss @ttae-yong @daevinvan333

Alyrie Florent.

Alerie Hightower.

Viserys Targaryen.

"Mother," Alicent jumps at the sudden call. Her eyebrows confusedly joining together as she stares at you, rugged and breathless.

Clearly, you had not remembered of your commitment to come with your mother to the Sept at early morrow.

She stares at you from top to bottom before you invite yourself to the place beside her, kneeling and clasping your hands together as she had always told you to do once you arrive at the Sept.

"My goodness, daughter, it is only early morrow... why do you look like that?"

You run a hand through your hair, your chest heaving up and down as you close your eyes. "Look like what?" You ask although you could not really care for an answer.

"Nothing. Pray for your father." Thank the gods you thought.

The run from the inn inside the Streets of Silk was far from the Sept. Not to mention, the hundreds of steps that you had to walk up both in the Red Keep to get dressed and to the Sept itself.

As you finally feel the silence around you, visions of last night cannot be stopped as it runs through your mind again.

"I expected more from you, princess," the teasing tone of Jacaerys' voice hits just the right buttons. His hips hitting your pelvis in slow, hard strokes that has you seeing stars by the minute. The moment his cock entered your cunt, you knew it was over for you.

"Just fuck me, Jace," you say in between moans. Your hands going up your head and into your hair as you desperately pull at it. You hear a deep chuckle come from him as his hands hook your legs around his waist, snaking his arm across your chest and to the back of your neck before his pace quickens.

You scream his name, the sound entering his ears like one of the greatest songs ever sung by poets. That pushes him further. His lips latching onto one of your perked nipples before his warm tongue lovingly laps circles around it. You put one hand on his head, messing up his hair as your sanity decreases by the⎯

"Daughter, did you hear what I said?" The images in your head disappear and you are faced with a furious look from Alicent. Sighing discreetly, you look back at her, giving back the same look. "I didn't catch you clearly."

She shakes her head disapprovingly, "Your uncle, Uncle Gwayne, might return. However, I do not know when exactly he'll come back."

For such a meaningless sentence, you hum and simply throw her a question as you exhale loudly. Feeling your body slowly heat up again. "Really? Why is he bothering to come back?"

Once you heard your mother's continuous flow of words in answer to your question, you peacefully close your eyes again. Hoping to all of the gods that it would keep your mother at bay. You gulp nothing but saliva down your dry throat, feeling all of the tingles and touches you felt last night.

"That's it... Keep your eyes on me, princess. You're doing so good," Jace's eyes lazily look up at you, a grin etched on his lips as you bounce up and down his length. This new position hitting places you never thought one could reach.

Your thighs were burning. You feel the pain in your hips going stronger but the pleasure overpowers it by a league. You wished the two of you could have stayed like earlier where he was the only one moving but after he makes you release in that position, he kisses you messily then pulls you off of the cushion.

His big hands hold the sides of your hips, helping you bounce, even thrusting up on his own every now and then to catch you off-guard. Your eyes close for your own sake as you feel another release close by. Jace watches you with amusement in his eyes as your hips begin grinding on his length, no longer bouncing like you used to, chasing after your release.

So close. Your eyes close shut even firmer. You can taste it⎯

A hand breaks your thoughts again. On the brink of sanity now as the hand belonged to your sister, Helaena, who shows you a caterpillar that she sets on the concrete ground before kneeling beside you.

Gods, you are cruel. You say in your mind. Letting your face do the talking while Helaena opens up about her insects.

"It looks nice." Alicent smiles. You have to physically stop yourself from rolling your eyes as both your mother and your sister converse with each other while you kneel there in the middle. When you close your eyes, Alicent speaks again. "You two must bear the Hightower name."

What is this woman talking about? The thoughts in your head are all over the place. Helaena being too pre-occupied in watching her caterpillar to even bother reply to your mother.

"You married me off to a Targaryen, remember?" You say in a low voice. Clasping your hands together.

Alicent puts a hand on your shoulder and bicep, "It was for the better. Besides, it would have been Jacaerys, Queen Rhaenyra's eldest, or Lucerys. Would've you rather rule over the seas than the seven kingdoms?"

"I agree with you wholeheartedly, mother, now please let me pray in peace."

You peek at her by opening just a small portion of your eye, your mother shaking her head once more before she closes her own eyes. Pressing her hand to her forehead as she too, probably, prayed.

Jace's arms instinctively pull you closer. Wrapping his arm around your waist as he pounded inside of you from over edge of the bed. He's only came once while you couldn't even count how many times your legs shook at his expense.

"How does that feel?" Jace asks in your ear, feeling his hand snake through your stomach and down the apex of your thighs where his fingers skillfully rub against your cunt. The contact making you dive further into the mattress if not for the his arm holding you up by your waist. "Does it feel good? Are you pleased, princess?"

No words leave your mouth, only moans and whimpers as his thrusts got deeper. Each thrust into your delicious cunt making him feel delirious. After delaying his own release numerous times, his release was approaching him now just like a wave.

"Don't stop, Jace, fuck," you grit, gripping the sheets as another orgasm awaits.

Continuous groans and grunts leave his mouth. The veins in his neck just as angry as the ones that line his cock. His hands rush to pull your upper body up, placing his hand flat against your neck as your back is now flush against his chest. His other hand stimulating your clit. Every part of your body was on fire and he knows it.

His hand around your neck tightens ever so slightly and you feel your vision turn white. Everything becoming too much. "I'm close. Fuck, I'm coming again, Jace," you cry out.

"It's okay, princess," he grunts, feeling his own release come about as your legs shake, cunt tightening around his cock with a scream escaping your lips. His lips ghosting all across your ear and the side of your neck as rubs soothing circles on your belly. "I got you."

"Y/N, are you okay?" The question from Helaena makes you jolt. Sweat beading on your forehead as you rush to stand up. Both Alicent and Helaena looking at you with great concern. Your face was pale and your clothes had numerous wet spots because of the sweat.

You laugh uncomfortably, "I am. Are we going now?"

"You're the only one we're waiting on." Alicent tells you with a nod, turning around and walking away.

Brushing the feeling of last night off, you hurriedly follow your mother and sister out of the Sept and into a carriage back to the Red Keep.

Before the council meeting later in the day, you have a good amount of time to rest in your own shared chambers with your husband.

He hasn't arrived yet so you use the time to take back some strength after tiring yourself out last night. It may be the low-end cushion that you laid yourself on last night but your bed now has never been comfier. You were tossing and turning all around it while hugging your pillows.

Your handmaidens had their own affairs to deal with, thankfully, it meant no random hair braiding and no anything that would disrupt your peace in your haven.

That is if your brother only bothered to take the locked door as an answer.

"Does my door being locked mean nothing?" You ask at Aemond, having to walk back to your bed after opening your door for him. His return meant the others have just came back as well, it was only a matter of time now before Jace comes to both of your rooms and your peace is disrupted.

Aemond takes a seat near the fireplace. "You sneaked out last night, didn't you?"

Your brother knowing wasn't too surprising for you. He knew of all things, even things he shouldn't know in the first place. So when he asks, you answer with honesty.

"Are you telling Mother?"

Your brother hums, shrugging subtly as he inspects the things you had on the table. Random stacks of books and golden chalices filled with water. Jewelries of various design scattered all over.

"Alicent scolding you does give me some pleasure," Aemond says but you know he's just being an asshole. "It does not give me any use though."

You sigh. Dramatically falling on the soft cushion of your bed as you speak again. "Then tell me what I have done to warrant this astonishing visit from you, Aemond."

A thought hits and you jolt, "You're betrothed?" The scowl on his face says otherwise. "Found a girl?" "Aegon's dead?" You exclaim in a theatrical manner.

Aemond snickers, "Have you seen Otto?" The sudden question goes past your mind as you ask him about the mission last night.

"It was just me and Cole working. Our brother and Jace were as useful as a dragon without wings," Aemond shakes his head, standing up from his chair and exploring the room. The constant walking around bugged your senses.

You glare at your brother's remark. "Honestly, brother, shouldn't you be reporting to the Queen about what happened to the mission?"

"Shouldn't you be welcoming your husband with open arms outside?" Aemond retorts before he holds up a finger, "Oh, apologies, you already welcomed him with open legs last night."

"You should visit a brothel, brother. Or talk to Cole if you are truly irritated with the world," you throw him over an old mirror compact that you had on your nightstand, your brother catching it perfectly before settling it down on a random surface.

Your door opens and just in time, Jace enters. He looks surprised seeing Aemond first thing inside of your room.

Gazing at him, he had his usual clothes back on and not the cream-colored shirts and pants. His hair was in a different way disheveled, there were some strands that look naturally curled compared to how his hair used to look like the first night when you two married.

Aemond glances at him before he turns to you. With a nod, he leaves your room in silence.

"What's your brother doing here?" Jace asks as the door closes. Opening his closet and placing his clothes inside.

"I don't know either," you shrug indifferently. Lying back down on your bed as you watch him move around. The curls on his head bringing back a certain person that you met only once or twice before.

Jace notices you staring at his hair and so he speaks, "It is better not to comment unless you want to be deemed treasonous, my dear wife." The grin on your lips telling him everything he needs to know about what was in your head.

A meeting was called into the council room. Something about an update regarding the recent mission that finished last night⎯or so you thought.

"Where were you?" Your curious eyes go over Otto's figure. He definitely looks surprised when you stop him before he enters the council room. Your grandfather's presence giving you an unsettling feeling as he comes from one of the farther connecting hallways within the keep.

He raises an eyebrow at you, "If it pleases you, I came from Maegor's Holdfast." The way he says it has a condescending tone that you would rather not point out.

You nod quietly, going inside the small council that was now full of people.

Rhaenyra's way of ruling always boggled you. She is Queen of the Seven Kingdoms and yet her small council is crowded. Not only are the seven mandatory positions already here but, Rhaenyra's children were there, Baela and Rhaena Targaryen were there, you and Aemond were even there despite not having any official position in it.

"I want everyone to feel included," as Rhaenyra said on the week that she was able to compose her own small council.

As you walk through the room, your eyes immediately lock with Jace's. It was clear that he had just finished bathing, as evidenced by the wetness of his hair, curls bouncier and more evident than before. It would be a crime for you to say it was not refreshing seeing a new hairstyle on him.

"Dearest wife," Jace nods at you with a small smile.

Contrary to his greeting, you sneer lowly, "Husband."

You take a stone ball from the middle, occupying the vacant seat beside your husband as the council chamber quiets down. The queen nodding at her other council members before she starts.

The meeting at the council went smoothly. Majority of Rhaenyra's council members did their job exceptionally well. Food was not scarce, problems were given solutions, and houses were given adequate attention in terms of their worries.

Whilst the Queen went on about the operations within the city, an occasional share of ideas from you and your mother, you could feel your husband's stare boring into you every time you look away to stare at Her Grace.

He figured that was not enough. His fingers brushing past your hand like a sin. So discreet, so subtle underneath the table as if you two did not consummate your marriage the night before.

You feel his hand creeping on yours again, this time you feel the warmth of it stay a little long before he withdraws it fast. "Jace? Aemond? How did the task go?"

Jace clears his throat, gesturing at Aemond who seemed to already have an answer to the Queen's question.

Aemond starts, "The task cannot be said as a success, your grace. It is clear from last night that more men must be employed in the field, not just Prince Jacaerys...nor Prince Aegon," he raises an eyebrow at your direction. Giving him back the same look before he clicks his tongue and turns back to Rhaenyra.

"I believe the perpetrator has someone inside of the Red Keep, as well as outside, where they hide their other men. They cannot hide this long if not for said allies." Aemond pulls off of the stone table and rests on the chair.

"What do you propose we do?"

This time, it's Aemond that gestures at Jace. "We need to set out more guards on patrol. Not just guards wearing their uniform but guards that are civilians. If these perpetrators do have men inside of King's Landing, we can only know if we live within King's Landing and see its every day operations without raising any suspicions."

People around the table nod, some even proposing additional ideas to it but Rhaenyra seemed to be well pleased with what her son and your brother suggested earlier.

"Your Grace, I fear this has not reached you yet but the mercenary that Prince Jacaerys and my granddaughter bought here is allegedly from the North."

Your head turns, "He's not."

All of the attention zones on you at the sudden interjection. "The man is from Essos. He has burns on his wrist to his arm. There's a group of people within Essos that have those."

"And how would you know that? You have not travelled to Essos nor have you seen this prisoner face-to-face," Otto says with another rather condescending tone. It was clear from the look on his face that he was undermining the information you're giving.

Your jaw clenches. Scoffing in disbelief at your grandfather's statement. "I would know that because I was the one attacked, as you should have known," you put your elbow on the table. "You do know that, right? Jacaerys was not the only one attacked—Hells, it was me that was attacked not him. I killed him."

"That is not something to be proud of," Alicent whispers from beside you.

"Let her be," says Aemond with a bored tone.

Otto does not say any more as an uncomfortable silence settles around the small council. Rhaenyra, sensing this unsettling atmosphere, clarifies the situation before her orders are officially given out.

Jace glances at you as a check up after the cross between you and your grandfather. He was nibbling on his lips as you two lock eyes once more.

"Am I the one speaking?" You question him rhetorically, rolling your eyes at him as you lean on your chair and listen to the politics between them one more.

The thought that you would soon be in a higher place than you are now—clearly not in Rhaenyra's place as the ruler of the iron throne—but still in a high position as the queen consort, having to listen through all of this talk and plans and politics, then plan treaties and feasts together with the other houses, it suffocated you.

Your husband knows that too but, he says no more.

Years of your life was spent within the four wall of your own room. Now, you stand outside of it as numerous servants usher in and out of it while holding different furniture.

You did not want to dwell on the thought of your own space being changed now that your mother's going to occupy your previous room before the marriage but, it stood right across the door from the library—a reason on why you loved your room as well—you cannot just ignore it.

With a deep sigh, you turn around, going inside of the library only to find it empty.

The gods may have hated you enough to take you away from the room you call home, but they do have some conscience to let you have the library all on your own.

Studying was never your forte, reading was. Folklores, history, stories of the maesters, you loved reading about them all.

"I figured you would be here," a voice speaks from the reading area. You were in between the bookshelves, looking for another book to read along with the five that you already have stacked on your hand. "No one loves the library as you do."

"I'm occupied, fortunately, you can go back to our chambers, my beloved husband," you huff, pulling out another book from the shelves before you head out to the open area for reading only to see Jace holding a stack of books himself.

You fake a gasp as you point at him, "I didn't know you can read."

He ignores your attempt to ridicule him and instead places his stacks of books beside yours. You raise an eyebrow at him and he already feels another joke coming up. "I knew you couldn't read! Do you want me to read them then summarize 'em for you, my dear husband?"

"I had this delivered from the Citadel's Library. I figured my beloved wife could use more books to read to...broaden her horizons." Jace crosses his arms, hip leaning on your table.

"I din't take bribery, Jace. What do you need?"

The prince's forehead creases in disbelief, "Are we not allowed to give gifts now?"

"You're awfully suspicious," you reply back fast, standing up from your seat and going back to the stacks of bookshelves.

Jace doesn't reply, instead, he watches you look for books again. He swears he could feel his life span decreasing each time you act like that—like how? He doesn't know as well. The poor man massages his temples as he grabs the book at the uppermost stack from those he bought before walking over to you.

"Your servants have told me that you have almost finished all of the books in the library so I sent a raven to ask for more books. You are free to read them as they are yours and I will make sure the books in our chambers are sorted out as well, if that's okay."

You tap your fingers over the spines of the books, Jace slipping the one he held in his hands at the end so you go past it as well.

"And why would you do all that, husband?" You ask, staring into his eyes as you stand in front of him.

Jace keeps his cool, clasping his hands together, "You said it yourself. I am your husband. It is my duty to keep you entertained."

"Oh but there's a lot of different ways to keep me entertained," you say with a sly smile, the rising ends of your lips making his breath hitch. His mouth falls open but no words leave it, his eyes, however, darken.

The prince replies back, "I'm sure I know a way or two to keep you entertained."

You grin, thinking he's not getting the signal and so you run a hand through his curly hair. "That hair suits you... but I think I know how your hair could look better."

"And how's that?"

"In between my thighs."

Jace scoffs, looking through the cracks behind the bookshelves go check if anyone sneaked in. When he sees no one, he does the first contact as he backs you slowly into the other side of the wall.

The two of you no farther than an inch away from each other as he places his hands on your sides with much care. Pressing his lips on yours before you feel the sides of your dress be bunched up by him.

You willfully open your mouth to him, letting him explore it with his tongue as you did his. Sucking on the wet muscle while you tangle your arms around his neck like a second nature. You could feel his lips stretching into a smile when he starts to pull away.

The dashing smile on his lips seemed to have put you under a spell as you nod eagerly when he nods first. Jace keeping his eyes on yours as he went on his knees in a hurry. He bunches up your skirt, your urgent hands grabbing a hold of said skirt so his hands would be free to—

"Jace!" You hiss, getting caught off-guard when he pushes himself in between your legs. Gripping your thighs tightly as you start to feel his hot breath right where you need him the most. Praise all of the gods for letting you wear a kirtle because it made everything all the more easier. Your legs nearly give out when you feel him lick a stripe up your slit. Mouth falling open in pure ecstasy. It's only been a day since he last touched you but it felt like a year. His mouth laps at you like a starved man. Nose poking at your bud which made everything much more pleasureful. Your hands naturally find solace in his hair, pulling and tugging on it until groans vibrate through your core. He nips at your cunt, the contact of his teeth to the sensitive bud making you yelp.  It doesn't take long for him to have you screaming quivering in his grasp. His name spilling out of your mouth like a prayer. You tasted so good, the prince feeling addicted to your taste as he can't even stop himself from fucking his tongue in and out of your hole.  "Seven hells, it feels so fucking good, Jacaerys," you mewl, shamelessly grinding your hips on his mouth. His curls scattered all over your hands as you slowly feel that release coming up.  He abruptly inserts two fingers inside as he pulls away, chin glistening with your release. You nearly come at the erotic look on his face. His lips crashes with yours again, silencing your moans while you taste yourself on his tongue. His fingers thrusting in and out of you in a quick motion.  "I'll make you feel so much better later, I just need to fuck you now," his voice is strained. Desperately untying his trousers. You were so caught up in your own pleasure that you didn't notice his shaft poking against his trousers so when he finally undoes them, you pull it down in one swift motion. The sight of his erect cock making your mouth water. Jace puts one of your legs up to his hips, whispering, "Jump," as you do so enthusiastically. Your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as both of your legs hook around his waist. You pull him into another hungry kiss, Jace navigating the two of you until he finds a counter. He pushes everything off of it and places you gently on it, the sounds of books and metal hardware falling onto the carpeted floor. He didn't care, nor did you.  "I need it so bad, Jace," you whimper, pulling away to look down your middle. The sight of your husband holding his cock as he runs it up and down your slit making you roll your eyes way back as your head falls back. You were biting your lips to try and stop more of your sounds from coming out.  He thrusts in one swift motion, the blunt head of his cock hitting the sweet spot of yours that he seems to have memorized already. The two of you moaning loudly in unison.  Jace wastes no time in fucking you. His pelvis snapping aggressively into yours as your legs desperately try to pull him closer. "I'm so close, Y/N," he grunts, putting more force into his thrusts as he chases after his own orgasm.  Your cunt clenches greedily on his cock. The sensation making Jace bite his lips to stop himself from spilling before you do. He drops a hand to your clit, instantly getting a reaction from you. Your back arching off of the table as you scream about the pleasure. One, two⎯a few more strokes to your spot and you almost⎯ "Can I have a word with my sister once you two are done?" You thought it was only your mind making up scenarios but it wasn't. Another knock sounding, "Oh, and keep it down. Halaena is trying to put Jaehaerys to sleep." 

[cosycafune]

LEMME BREED YOU, PRINCESS!

0.6k words. your boyfriend is a shit one, but that really doesn’t matter when you’re bouncing on Toji’s cock — ruining your sanity. sure, sneaking around is risky, but toji’s divine cock is enough for you to almost ruin your future.

acts: unprotected sex, creampies, infidelity, degradation, doubt, breeding kink, size difference, slight age gap and slight sadistic tendencies.

SEATED, guilt and enthralment adorn you. Nothing prepared you for this sacred moment, tinted with the art of intimacy, infidelity and lust. Tendrils of confusion smother you, but you can’t bring yourself to release Toji right now. 

Grinding against an older Toji, you momentarily forget about your shortcomings – shedding every thought of your estranged boyfriend.

Unrestrained, you continue to rut your hips against Toji’s erection – stomaching the closest feeling to love you’ve ever carried. Liberation almost tints you, but it’s tainted, distorted – settling you in a morally grey area.

Naturally, you felt like you had to succumb to your boyfriend’s shortcomings – enduring the colourful, negative emotions he painted on you. Engaging with Toji, taking every inch of his cock, being talked through it, coddled and eerily cared for, rewired you. Leaving, you know you should do that, but your boyfriend suffocated you – strangling you with his status and power imbalance.

Yet, Toji carries status, emotional stability, money and a huge dick. A huge dick you could never resist, sneaking away to meet with him – coming back home with hickeys, bite marks and symbols of satisfaction. To you, it was thrilling – a diligent way of getting back at your cheating boyfriend. Everything within you wanted to leave him, but he would suppress you – mentioning his cherishable reputation with your family.

All you wanted was for Toji to mould into your charming prince, sculpting an atmosphere that would permanently provide peace. However, you’re pitifully bound here – stealing away pleasurable moments that pale in the long run. Even as you grind against his cock, nude, filled with Toji’s cum, you can’t help but ask for more. As a princess, is this truly what your life has come to? Sleeping with your father’s favourite millionaire?

“You’re thinking, darlin’,” Breaking your internal silence, Toji gruffly speaks – relishing your soppy, cum-filled folds kissing his cock head.

“I mean, we only have half an hour,” Chuckling, you respond to Toji – frantically kissing his lips. Looking down at him, you smoothly deflect – unbounded. 

“Stop deflecting,” Lightening up, Toji murmurs through his grunt –  harshly sinking you onto his cock.

“It’s… just, why won’t you beat him up or do some dramatic gesture to convince my family?” Avoiding Toji’s intimidating gaze, you speak, “You know that he… treats me like shit.” Blabbering, you look away — only for Toji to grip your chin.

“Because it’s not him that has your pretty self sinking his cock,” Grinning, Toji breathily grunts — captured by your warm cunt squeezing him.

“Hmm, don’t tell your boyfriend,” Taunting you, Toji frantically bucks his hips into you — pushing you into moaning extremely loudly.

“Shit! I won’t! Ahh!” Pounded into, revoking your willpower to think, you shakily grip onto Toji — bellowing.

“He’s never fucked you this good, has he?” Observing you, Toji gently moans — his question almost hazy.

“Ngh! Never!” Barely clutching onto your self-esteem, you prettily feed into Toji’s inquiries — demolishing his fat, enormous cock.

“Shit! If I…put a baby in you, he’ll leave,” Threatening your future, Toji thrusts deeper within you — grinning at you cock-stricken.

“Hmm! Baby!” Mewling, you tremble vigorously — practically agreeing for Toji to expand you with as many babies he wants.

“A pretty… princess like you, pregnant?” Enthralled, Toji snaps his toned hips harder — barely able to voice his thoughts through pleasure.

“I’d do…anything for you to be swollen with my baby,” So close to cumming, Toji hums with satisfaction — burying himself so, so deeply within you.

“T-Toji,” Moaning his name, you accidentally cum before him — embarrassed at how quickly he could dismantle you.

“I’ll fill you up and give you a baby,” Determined to impregnate you, Toji snaps his hips intensely — his pulsating cock finally twitching before filling a foolish you up.

“Mhmm, I’ll have… your baby,” Whining, you desperately proclaim — almost collapsing as Toji kisses your lips.

“Hmm, but don’t tell your boyfriend,” Teasing you, Toji gifts you a gentle kiss — before smacking your ass.

Don’t tell your boyfriend.

--

do not copy, modify or claim any of my works as your own. all rights reserved; cosycafune. 2024. small banners credit: cafekitsune <3

[heian-era-housewife]

Synopsis | Sukuna gives you a lesson in Heian Period courtship. Will you find these strange customs to your liking?

Content | reader x sukuna, mostly fluff, some chasing/mention of fear, nicknames "dove", "little one".

"Ryo?" You began softly, still clutching the small poem he had left for you earlier that day. "Was dating -err- I mean courtship a lot different in the Heian Period?"

"Substantially so," he replied as he laid out your shared futon over the tatami floor.

"Was it...romantic?" You asked, climbing beneath the cotton sheets.

"For the time, yes. Though you would not have enjoyed it."

"How do you know? Did you enjoy it?"

Sliding in beside you, he took the poem from your hands and set it gently to the side, brushing stray hairs from your face as he answered. "I never engaged in such pursuits. Romance was unthinkable," he placed a tender kiss on your forehead, "before you."

"But you wrote poetry, didn't you?"

He could tell you weren't going to let this go. Heaving a sigh, he continued. "Poetry was used for many things. Heian seduction involved elements of fear, pity, and token rejection. In romance, the poetry typically came later."

You blinked. Fear? Pity? Surely he had misunderstood your question. Reading the confusion on your face, he offered a different approach.

"It may be easier...to demonstrate," he hesitated. "But as I already mentioned, you might not enjoy it."

"Try me."

Sukuna's eyes darkened. A predatory sneer crept across his features. It was as though a thousand-year craving were finally being satiated. With two little words a sleeping beast within him had come unleashed. He was free to prowl, and you were his prey.

He lunged at you with explosive force. As if on instinct, you dodged his advance, rolling from the futon and scrambling to your feet. Heart pounding in your ears, you ran from the room, steps falling fast and heavy as he took chase.

You weren't sure why you were running. It was only a demonstration, right? Besides, Sukuna would never hurt you. But you couldn't shake that look. The way he shifted from gentle lover to carnal predator. An irrational fear was taking hold.

Fear! You thought. That was the first part he had mentioned of Heian Period courtship. With gripping realization, you allowed your fright to overwhelm you, finding it both alarming and exhilarating.

Easily catching up to you, Sukuna rounded the corner quickly pinning you to the nearest wall, hot breath panting down on you as he eyed you hungrily.

"I've got you now, little one!" He growled. "Next I'm going to-"

"hnnh..." A pathetic whine escaped your lips. With his face mere inches from yours, Sukuna stopped. His eyes softening as he recognized the terror he had caused.

"My dove," he cooed, gently caressing your face in stark contrast to his actions mere moments before. "I never meant to startle you."

The whiplash was astounding. You questioned his sanity.

Dropping to one knee, Sukuna held your hands in his, sincere apologies spilling from his lips. Looking up, his eyes met yours in a gaze of pure pity.

Pity! You nearly shouted. Sukuna was taking pity on your weak and fearful state!

"Oh my gosh..." you said slowly, the point of his lesson having landed a direct bullseye. "Heian Period seduction was insane."

He broke into a wry smile, glad you were finally connecting the dots.

"Does this mean..." he gasped dramatically, "that you're rejecting my love??"

Token rejection. The final courtship component.

"But alas!" You played along. "How could I take such a cruel lover?"

"Let me show you!" He urged.

"Be gone!" You ordered.

"I insist!" He demanded.

"If you must," you cried, falling theatrically into his arms, laughing.

~~~

Back under the sheets of your futon, Sukuna eyed you thoughtfully, a soft twinkle in his eyes.

"What?" You asked.

"You enjoyed that more than I imagined," he conceited.

"I suppose I can see the appeal," you admitted, reaching for the small parchment beside you. "But, if it's all the same to you, I think I prefer the poetry."

"Me too," he whispered, kissing you goodnight. "Me too.

Please feel free to check out the video that inspired this little story. ⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ While the video is relatively lighthearted and informative, there is mention of nonconsentual actions and use of the "r" word in a factual context.